#there is in fact a crow in the right tree watching him

[hestiashand]

a stained district.

sasuke week day five — pain & trauma

[ ID: a digital drawing of sasukes silhouette as a kid standing in front of the uchiha district in a red and purple colour palette. the ground, doors, drapes and sasukes hands are covered in bright red blood. there is a red boarder framing the image. END ID. ]

[rememberwren]

A Girl (Not Mine) || 1

Ghost is a little obsessed with Soap and a lot obsessed with Soap's girlfriend--you.

About this: ghoap/fem!reader, suspension of disbelief regarding anything military related is actually necessary for enjoyment, canon-typical trauma for Simon, intrusive thoughts, slut shaming, voyeurism, fingering, accidentally seeing nudes not meant for you, poor writing unless you squint, try squinting. 4k

-

“I’m so glad I got a girl to think of, 

Even though she isn’t mine.”

-

The first time Johnny mentions you, the 141 is fresh from a month-long leave.

Ghost has a love-hate relationship with time spent off duty. He’d like to enjoy it—to do fuck all, to hike through Clayton Vale twice in a day if it suits him, to drink tea for every meal. But all leave does is remind him of the glaring emptiness in his life, the one he usually fills with violence. So he spent the month climbing up the walls and crawling out of his skin, waiting to be called back like a dog brought to heel. 

Here was his comeuppance for craving something to fucking do instead of relaxing the way Price had told him to do. Now they were on their way to San Lorenzo in Ecuador dealing with Ghost’s least favorite flavor of criminal: drug cartels. 

It’s too close to Mexico. Too close to that which he would forget gladly if it didn’t come with the loss of so many valuable skill sets. He’s crawling out of his skin for a whole new reason, watching the water fly by beneath them, deep in memories. 

Ghost takes all those feelings, fears, remembrances and swallows them whole. Lets them sink to a sour, dark place in his belly. He sits tense on the helo, still except for the rise and fall of his chest, his rifle a familiar weight across his knees. Sometimes he has to shut his eyes, swallowing against the rising nausea. 

He only has half an ear on Garrick and Johnny’s conversation beside him, but it is all he needs to follow along. 

“—lass of my own now,” Johnny is saying around a laugh, his accent thick enough to chafe at Ghost’s skin in a way he doesn’t want to examine, one that leaves him feeling raw but not necessarily hurt. “So no more picking up the barflies back in Hereford.”

“She making an honest man out of you, Tav?” 

“Aye, you could say that.” Johnny sounds proud of the fact. It all is so far from anything Simon has experienced in his life that he feels no distant stirring of empathy, not even a muted sense of familiarity in the words. Honest men do not exist. 

Not to mention, Simon’s never had a woman (willingly) and he never will. 

“You love her?” Garrick asks, earnestly interested to hear the answer. Ghost couldn’t care less.

“Aye. There’s something special about her.” 

“What, she’s cool with anal?”

Johnny crows with laughter, and now Ghost does feel something: annoyance, cloying, creeping up his spine like a spider in a web headed for the wiggling maggot of his brain. 

“Will you two ever shut up?” he snaps. “Not a moment’s fucking peace since we boarded.”

“Sorry LT,” Johnny says, sounding genuinely apologetic. Ghost cuts his eyes toward the other man, assessing for honesty. Johnny’s face is too expressive: brows lifted, eyes wide and earnest, mouth tipped into a tiny grimace, like the thought of irritating Ghost gives him real pain. Between the two of them, Ghost can’t help but think that it’s Johnny who needs a mask if he wants to survive in the world. 

Ghost doesn’t have the energy for this. He goes back to watching the scenery pass by. They are over trees now: thick lush jungle, the scent of which he associates with pain—plenty of which was his own. Plenty of which he caused to others. 

“What about you, LT?” Johnny asks, calling out over the sound of the helicopter blades. “Do you have a woman back home?”

Ghost lets his head turn, slow and dangerous. Johnny’s audacity never fails to surprise him. “What do you think, Johnny?”

“Honestly?” 

“Go on, then.”

“You look like if yeh’ve got a woman, she’s probably locked in yer basement.” 

(right where she’d belong.)

Garrick slaps Johnny’s thigh, his face mottled with panic. He hisses under his breath, something like, There are faster ways to die, Tav! Less painful ways, too, Ghost thinks. He fixes Johnny with a dead stare. The silence stretches, growing long and thin and dangerous, like the blade of a knife, until Johnny looks away. 

“Think less about my private life, Sergeant,” he warns him. 

“Not often you tell me to think less, LT.” 

Ghost just grunts, finished with the conversation, returning his unseeing eyes to the trees and slipping back into his own memories. 

-

That should be—well, not the end of it. He expects Johnny to become insufferable about it; that’s just the other man’s way. Still, Ghost had never expected to see you. 

He’s doing paperwork in the rec room, too stifled by the tiny, enclosed space of his office to remain there. Paperwork and debriefing are always his least favorite parts of an op. Give him a gun with which to kill and he will gladly kill; give him a pen with which to write and he spends half the time thinking about burying it in his own eye. Garrick and Johnny are there nearby fucking around on their phones having finished with their easy portion of the work ages ago. 

A phone is what Johnny thrusts beneath Ghost’s nose. It takes all of his mental fortitude not to flinch away from the unexpected action (or, more likely, not to rip Johnny’s arm off and beat him half to death with it). His eyes flicker down to the screen on instinct and—there you are. 

You have one eye squinted shut, your hand up to create a visor against the overbearing sun. The picture shows you from the bust upwards, and Simon sees it for approximately one full second before he grips Johnny’s wrist in a brutal hold and forces the hand and the phone away. 

It’s already too late. He’s committed you to memory. The way your hair sits, its color in the blistering sun. The curve of your lips (fuckable, he thinks against his will) as you give Johnny behind the camera an exasperated smile. The arch of your nose (images now—fingers pinching noses shut, forcing mouths further down his cock just to watch them choke and struggle)—

“Get that out of my face,” he grits out through his teeth. His thoughts won’t stop, not now that the floodgates have been opened, and it makes him feel like a dog backed into a corner, frightened-violence rising up in the back of his throat like bile. 

—the smooth line of your throat (and his hands around it, choking the light from your eyes just to fuck you when you’re soft and pliable and he doesn’t have to listen to you crying and begging)—shut UP!—

“It’s just my girl, sir,” Johnny laughs, his own eyes flickering back down to your image on the phone, like they are drawn to you. Like it is hard to look away. Ghost doesn’t have that problem—he has some  discipline left. “And it’s not as if she’s naked.” 

Ghost grips the pen in his hand so tightly that the plastic shell cracks. He’s barely keeping it together, sick and afraid and horrified and angry that Johnny has done this to him—has done this to his own girl—

His voice is rough when he croaks out: “What makes you think I care to see her, Sergeant?” 

“‘S it wrong to share the most important person in my life with the other most important people in my life?” Johnny says, eyes too guileless to be taken seriously. 

“Share less,” he snaps. 

“Been saying that to me an awful lot lately, sir.” 

“A good Sergeant would take my words to heart.” 

“A good lieutenant would know a futile lesson when it’s biting him in the arse.”

Ghost’s eyes narrow. “Careful, Johnny. As much as I hate paperwork, I’d write you up—gladly.” 

Johnny gapes. “What for?”

Ghost grins without mirth, mask stretching around his features. Even grinning cruelly like this, his face feels unused to any expression that is adjacent to happiness. He swears darkly: “I’ll find a reason.”

It would send anyone else running. Even Garrick looks fearful, though fascinated: the same look a man wears when he’s watching a car crash in progress. But if sense were dynamite, Johnny wouldn’t have enough to blow his nose. Instead, he just flops down on the couch close enough to flutter the pages in Ghost’s lap. Close enough for their knees to brush. 

“Jesus, you’re a tadger today,” Johnny says quietly, boot knocking against Ghost’s, a touch he feels all the way up his leg. “Shove off some of that paperwork on us. What’s the use of being a lieutenant if you can’t lord it over your sergeants?”

“I’m sorry, us?” Garrick asks. 

“I don’t shirk my responsibilities, Johnny,” Ghost says coldly, gathering his papers. His elbow brushes against Johnny’s ribs, the firm, burning warmth of the other man’s body. He jerks away. He’ll take the stifling seclusion of his office, that makeshift coffin, before he subjects himself to any more of this. “You’d do well to follow my example.”

-

Ghost resolutely does not think of you. Not during quiet lazy moments on base, not during the frustration of training recruits, especially not during the eerie calm of missions. You do not cross his mind. 

His dreams are another thing altogether. 

There are the dreams where he hurts and the dreams where he is hurting, and he doesn’t know which are worse. He only knows that they are made worse by your strange presence: your body bent and being broken in by others; you, bent and being broken in by him. He wakes in cold sweats, jaw aching from gritting his teeth in his sleep. 

He hates himself for this last place where he cannot execute control: his subconscious. 

-

“Mail?” Johnny asks cheerfully at the sight of Garrick seated on the bench outside the DFAC, a stack of papers and letters laying on his lap. 

Johnny is sweaty, gray t-shirt clinging to his toned body as he (for once) keeps a companionable silence at Ghost’s side. They have been training recruits all day—work which Ghost considers far beneath his pay grade, but which he can’t refuse when ops are so slow to arrive and when he is so eager (desperate) to keep busy. Ghost lets himself sit heavily on the bench a safe distance away from Garrick, sweat cooling on his own body. 

He’s not ready to be alone yet. 

He’s allowed to do that. To want company. Of all the people on base, Garrick and Johnny (and Price) might be the most tolerable of the lot of them. During the rare moments when the pitiful piece of humanity left inside him craves companionship, this is the least painful method to mainline it. 

He ignores the lack of letters for him. There is no mail for Ghost—there never is. 

Garrick passes Johnny no less than four envelopes. Johnny’s soft smile as he flips through them speaks volumes. Ghost can guess who they’re from: his mother likely, who writes as often as she can. One of his various sisters, surely. Take your pick.  Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Johnny flip through the letters and settle on one in particular, thicker than the others, tearing it open and tugging the letter out. 

The pictures slip from the folded piece of paper and fall to the ground. 

Johnny dives to grab them, but all it does is bring Garrick’s attention to them more. Even Ghost’s interest is piqued, his dark eyes giving up pretending to watch the recruits limp back to their barracks to shower before dinner and following Johnny’s hasty movements instead, watching the hot flush that crawls up the back of his Sergeant’s neck. 

“What are those?” Garrick asks. 

“No’ a thing.” 

Garrick lights up. He practically tosses his letter to the side. “She sent you pictures?” 

“Possibly,” Johnny says smuggly, the images—old fashioned Polaroids, a nice touch—pressed to his chest. His eyes narrow at the expression on Garrick’s face. “Don’t even think about it, Gaz—!”

Garrick pounces. The two begin grappling, both of their faces split into wide grins. Johnny can only defend himself with one arm, his other protectively clutching the photographs to his bosom. They take each other to the ground and Ghost watches, half interested and half irritated, wondering who will win. 

The pictures go flying—and fate’s invisible bitch of a hand causes them to land at Ghost’s feet. Garrick and Johnny freeze.

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t, the same way he knows that he’s going to. Ignoring their renewed struggles on the ground as they fight to untangle themselves and stand, he leans down and reaches for the photographs.

The white of the Polaroid’s edges contrast nicely with his dark gloves as he gathers the pictures together like a deck of scattered cards. 

“LT—“

They’re relatively tame. Perhaps you knew the high risk of sending them. In one you are kneeling on a bed amongst a sea of mussed, white sheets, wearing nothing but a t-shirt that you have tugged down between your parted thighs to offer yourself some modesty. It is painful to flip to the next one, but pain calls to Ghost, lures him in. In another you’re wearing some strappy lingerie but still covered artfully by the sheets, both hands covering your eyes, a grin on your face like you are mid laugh. Did Johnny take these photos of you himself? Did a stranger? A friend? Another shows your side profile, back arched, topless, every inch of you curved and poised. 

You’re (a filthy little slut) so fucking pretty. 

“Give ‘em back, LT, please,” Johnny asks gently, like he expects Ghost to tear them to shreds. Or confiscate them. 

Ghost drops the photographs to the bench, wishing he could scrub the images of you from his mind. He shouldn’t have picked them up in the first place. It’s adding fuel to the fire of his broken brain, and he knows that he will pay for it dearly. 

Johnny is talking. “—shy, she’d just die to know you saw.”

“She’ll only know if you tell her, Johnny,” Ghost reminds him. His mouth feels numb, his brain the quiet granted by white noise, a conglomerate of screams. 

Johnny frowns. “Suppose so. You alright?” 

“Since Ghost saw—“ 

“No, Gaz.” 

Ghost watches the two of them enter the building. 

His hand burns, where he has palmed the picture of you topless. He stands and slips the Polaroid into his back pocket. It’s on the tip of his tongue to call out for Johnny and give him the picture back—he could find some excuse, and Johnny would believe him, he knows it—but he doesn’t. He makes for his room, feeling sick with himself. He isn’t hungry. Not for food. 

-

Ghost is compromised. 

The thought replays in his mind over and over again as he drives to Price’s house in Solihull. You and Johnny have crawled beneath his skin and infected him, dug your way into his DNA and are affecting everything from his decision making capabilities to his dreams. He knows that going anywhere where you both will be is a mistake, but it’s one he can’t seem to help hurdling himself toward at high speed. 

Nothing will happen, he tells himself, knuckles white against the steering wheel. He only does what he allows himself to do—no more. The others will be there at least, Garrick and Price and Johnny himself. Physical barriers between him and you. Human meat shields, if necessary. Ghost wouldn’t dare to lay a finger on you. (But who would stop him if he tried? Who could?) You are safe, he tells himself. 

He is the last to arrive, dragging his feet up the concrete steps to the two story brick historical home that Price owns. He lets himself in the way that Price told him to and can tell by the eerie silence of the house that everyone is already outside enjoying the well-landscaped yard. Already he sees the evidence of you: a purse (go through it) laid neatly on the dining room table. He sets his keys beside it but does not touch it. 

Ghost doesn’t bother trying to delay the inevitable. Every part of him wants to run, but that’s all he’s ever wanted his whole life. He’s used to it by now, used to being forced to walk toward the thing which terrified him. He squares his shoulders and slides open the patio door, slipping back out into the muggy heat of the afternoon, face mask in place, hood up.  

The landscaping is one of the best features of Price’s house. The privacy fence is tall and appealing to Ghost’s seclusive nature, the lawn neatly clipped. There is a hedgerow running along the southern edge of the fence that is meticulously maintained. Flower beds lined with bricks rest along the house full of geraniums and phlox. The patio is smooth stone with an inlaid fire pit that would be crackling if the weather were any milder. An iron-wrought table sits nearby surrounded by chairs, and seated there are Garrick, Johnny, and Price. 

You are over by the flowers, kneeling in the soft grass, picking phlox just a few shades darker than the sundress you’re wearing, the one that skims your soft thighs. Ghost’s eyes roam over you and away all before your head even turns at the sound of the door opening. 

“LT,” Johnny calls, lighting up. “You made it!” 

“Didn’t think you’d show, Lieutenant,” Garrick says with a smile. 

“As if he’s got something better to be doing than spending time with us,” Johnny crows. 

“Jesus, will you two leave the man alone? Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already regretting coming,” Price says. Ghost inclines his head, grateful for the backup. 

He hears your approach, the soft sound of your flats against the patio stone. You are small (weak) compared to him, craning your head up to look in his eyes. He hates the dark part of his brain that calls you easy prey as he watches you twist the phlox stems between anxious fingers. 

“You must be Simon—” Johnny shakes his head a little, subtle, visible only out of the corner of Ghost’s eye. “—ah—Ghost? I mean—” 

“I don’t care what you call me,” he admits.

“Ghost,” you settle where it is nice and safe. “It’s nice to meet you. John talks about you all the time.”

“Likewise,” Ghost says flatly, hoping you will not mistake it for a compliment. 

Garrick snorts. “Never shuts up about you is more likely.”

There aren’t enough chairs for everyone, so you sit on Johnny’s lap, legs crossed demurely, skirt riding up around your upper thighs. He wonders about the softness of your skin, wonders if his calloused touch would hurt you or if you’re used to Johnny’s by now. He could make it hurt. The thought doesn’t come with any zing of pleasure, just the cold apathy of fact. Has Johnny ever tried that? Has he ever—

Ghost’s gloved hand clenches into a fist, curling around the iron armrest of the chair. He takes a measured breath and holds it until his lungs ache. Those thoughts aren’t his own. They come from the dark part that Roba seeded inside him, that part with creeping vines too deep to root out. That part with thorns. 

He could hurt you, the same way he could hurt anyone, he tells himself. But he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to. 

He does only what he allows himself to do. No more. No less. 

You and Johnny stand, heading into the house to retrieve a round of drinks for everyone. Ghost watches Johnny’s hand dip low on your back to the curve of your ass as he guides you through the open door, shutting it behind you. 

“Are you alright, Simon?” Price asks around a cigar. “I know meeting new people isn’t exactly in your repertoire.”

“Don’t mother me.”

“Don’t have to be your mother to care about you.”

“Garrick—get lost,” Ghost barks. 

The iron chair legs screech against the stone of the patio as Garrick stands hastily. “Had the same thought, sir. Hedges look lovely this time of year.”

When Garrick is properly out of earshot, pretending to find amusement in the neat hedgerows along the fence line, Ghost says: “I shouldn’t have come. I’m… I— can’t be left alone with her.” 

“With—? Soap’s gal?”

Ghost grits his teeth in shame and nods. 

“Do you know her?” 

Ghost shakes his head in the negative, but it’s not necessarily true. He knows a thousand women just like her, soft and unexpecting. The betrayal always cuts deeper than his cock could reach (estoy preso, somos lo mismo, por favor).

He stands, chair legs dragging against the stone. “This was a mistake. I need to leave.” 

“If you say so,” says Price, knowing better than to argue. “Go around the side. You won’t even have to see them.” 

“My keys are inside. I’ll be quick.” 

“Take care of yourself, Simon,” says Price, his eyes dark and lips downturned as he watches Ghost stalk to the patio door and slip inside. 

-

He braces himself to see you and Johnny in the kitchen, but when the door slides open near-silent, neither of you are anywhere to be seen. Like a fool, he considers himself lucky. Quiet as his namesake, Ghost goes to the table and picks up his keys, palming them. 

That’s when he hears it. The unmistakable muted slap of flesh on flesh. 

(Go look.)

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t, but that is his modus operandi these days: failing himself, doing what he isn’t meant to, seeing what is not for his eyes. His feet carry him silently to the door, which is cracked open just wide enough for him to see through into the room. It is a guest bedroom judging by the bland decor, the queen sized bed. Johnny has you sprawled on it, your sundress hitched up around your waist, his fingers buried to the final knuckle inside your cunt. Ghost can hear the way it squelches from all the way outside the door, knows that you must be dripping down Johnny’s wrist. 

“Keep quiet, love,” Johnny pants, one hand over your mouth (he’s not doing it right) to muffle the whines and groans trying to slip past your lips. “Needy little thing, aren’t yeh? Squirming in my lap, making my cock hard right there in front of my Captain, in front of my Lieutenant—“

You whine something back, but it is lost into his palm. 

“Don’t have time to get my cock in you,” Johnny sighs, twisting his fingers inside you, hooking them to press against that tender spot past your pubic bone that has your knees knocking together. He shifts his palm down to grip your neck, your panting breaths filling the room. “But you can bet this dress is coming off as soon as we’re home, do y’hear me?”

“Yessir,” you whisper, and it has Ghost’s cock throbbing. 

This is not for him. He thinks about Johnny’s words from months ago: that you are shy. There’s no chance you would ever want to be seen like this by him. Reaching out, he grips the doorknob and quietly tugs the door closed, til the sound of Johnny’s palm slapping against your clit is muffled behind the wood. 

He takes his keys and is gone before you ever know he was there. 

-

Johnny texts him later that night: 

Why’d you leave early, you numpty? We wanted more time with you. 

Ghost doesn’t respond. He’s too busy spiraling in his own flat, losing control every few minutes and slipping back into that place of pain and blood and dirt. 

An hour later, Johnny ends up adding, My girl wants me to say she was glad she got to meet you. Only Jesus knows why! Ghost definitely doesn’t respond to that. But he doesn’t delete the messages either.

[breadbrobin]

fate

clarisse la rue x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!daughter of apollo reader]

[part 2 to the trees]

summary: clarisse is being weirdly standoffish, and you’re not one to cave to that, no matter how much you like her. and no matter how things go, you still have to get your weapons from the forest.

warnings: swearing, arguing, fighting, monsters, PINING BUT THEYRE IDIOTS, everyone’s so mad at each other rn, kissing (AHHHH), canon typical violence, again probably slightly ooc clarisse but hey i love her anyway

word count: 3.2k

(uhhh so this is probably not what anyone was expecting for part two but this is how i alway a planned it, so here it is!! tag list in reblogs and also thank you for the love on the trees! i love you all so much <3 and i’d die for you just like clarisse and this dumb bitch here would die for each other)

(this is much more enemies to lovers than the first one btw so have fun)

———————————————

the day after capture the flag was always a little tense. of course it was. half the camp had just lost, and not many people at camp were good losers, especially not those who got their butts kicked.

this time, though, there was a new level of tension in the air.

ares kids didn’t often run the flag over the line themselves, and those who did were crowing about it at breakfast, then all morning too.

curiously, clarisse wasn’t. she was eating in silence, picking through her eggs like she was searching for something.

you’d never seen her like that before. no one had. but, it seemed you were the only person to notice. you always were, and you were okay with that.

your brother nudged your arm and shot you a questioning look, but you brushed him off with a smile.

why was clarisse so down? she’d won. what did she have to be upset about? was she mad at you? did you do something to piss her off in the tree? she hadn’t seemed exactly happy when she left.

stuck in your thoughts, you didn’t realise she’d met your eyes until your brother elbowed you.

“ow! what do you want?” you snapped, rubbing your rib cage tenderly.

“clarisse is staring at you,” he said with wide eyes. “dude… what did you do?”

“nothing,” you scoffed and stood up, taking your empty plate to the stack of dirty dishes, trying—and failing—to not look at clarisse as you left.

“y/n, wait up!”

you slowed down for sam as he jogged to catch up to you. there was a newfound bitterness in your mouth when you saw him. you’d never liked him, not like he’d liked you, but you’d never felt like you wanted to be away from him. not like you did in that moment then. but where would you go? to clarisse? yeah, right, she’d laugh in your face, regardless of whatever happened—or might have happened—in that tree.

“what’s up?” you asked. you couldn’t help your voice being drier than usual.

“just wanted to see how those arrows did you? were they good? i can make some more, if you want.” he looked almost eager to do so.

you smiled kindly. he really was sweet. “they were great, thanks, sam. best arrows i’ve ever used, even if i didn’t get too much of a chance to use them.” your steps faltered. “i did leave one in the forest though. i’ll have to get that later.”

your eyes locked on clarisse as she walked towards you down the path. two of her siblings were behind her, laughing, but she wasn’t. in fact, her jaw was set tight and she was glaring. at sam.

“i could come with you?” he suggested. “watch your back. keep you safe, you know?”

clarisse scoffed as she passed. “she doesn’t need you to keep her safe, tool-box.”

that was a little mean. sure, sam carried his tool-box everywhere, but you never know what might need to be fixed! despite yourself, you had to hold in a laugh. your eyes were alight with amusement as you locked gaze with clarisse.

she looked proud of herself, a jaunty grin on her lips. you couldn’t help your gaze dropping to them briefly. she smiled wider. it was infuriating. she now knew what her effect on you was, and she was using it.

“if she needed someone to protect her, she’d come to me, right, angel?” she tilted her head.

your mouth was infuriatingly dry. you nodded. “uh—“

“whatever,” sam snapped. “come on, y/n. let’s go.”

you kind of wanted to stay, but his grip on your arm didn’t leave any room for an argument. you trailed after him as he left, glancing over your shoulder just in time to see clarisse’s face darken with anger.

“angel?” sam scoffed. “who does she think she is?”

“uh…”

“whatever. gods, she’s just so—“ he turned and faced you, almost causing you to bump into his chest. you’d never seen him so intense before. “stay away from her, y/n. seriously. she’s bad news.”

“she’s nice to me,” you protested.

“she’s not nice to anyone. don’t be naive.” he turned on his heel and started to walk away, then turned back, his face softer. “come on. do you want to learn how to weld? you said you did last week.”

did you? you didn’t remember that. but you did vaguely remember a conversation with sam that you spent zoned out and staring at clarisse as she trained, so that was probably it. “oh, no… i have to… train…”

he looked disappointed, but nodded. “okay, that’s cool. maybe another day. or maybe, we can… go for a walk together? or even have lunch on the beach?”

you nodded absently. “maybe.”

“great, it’s a date!”

you frowned. “it’s a what?”

he looked happier than you’d ever seen him. he even kissed your cheek before walking off, a new spring in his step. you stood there for a moment, eyes wide, wondering what the hell just happened. then you heard a scoff from behind you.

when you turned around, clarisse was walking away.

“clarisse,” you said softly, jogging after her. “clarisse, wait!”

“go hang out with your boyfriend, l/n.” she snapped, her arms crossed as she walked. “he’s probably waiting for you so you two can make out in that sweaty little sex dungeon they call a workshop.”

your eyebrows shot up. “okay, first of all, i’m pretty sure it is actually a workshop, and second of all, he’s still not my boyfriend!”

she scoffed again but didn’t answer, stomping up the steps to the ares cabin and stopping at the top, looking down at you.

you felt small under her gaze, but you didn’t back down.

“what are you doing here?” she asked after a moment.

“you said i could come get a new dagger,”you said.

she rolled her eyes and leaned on the porch railing. “and?”

you frowned, looking up at her. “and… i’m here to get one?”

she regarded you for a few seconds in silence, then, just as she was about to speak, a new voice called out.

“clarisse, are you giving out girlfriend privileges already?” one of her brothers, marcus, you thought, stepped into the doorway of the cabin and peered around her to look at you. he looked like a stereotypical son of ares: buff, tall and mean. “that’s cute.” he continued, looking at you like you were an animal in a zoo.

“she’s not my girlfriend,” she scoffed like it was the most ridiculous thing in the world.

well, that hurt.

“yeah, we’re just—“

“we’re not even friends,” she added hurriedly, not even looking at you. “she just thinks she’s special.”

your jaw clenched. that really hurt. “i don’t think i’m special,” you snapped. “i think i want you to honour your word from yesterday or go and get my dagger out of the forest for me.”

“not my fault you forgot your dagger,” she studied her nails nonchalantly.

“but if you hadn’t thrown my dagger out of a tree and tossed my new arrow aside like it was trash then i wouldn’t have forgotten. and maybe if you hadn’t leaned in like you were about to kiss me, maybe i wouldn’t have forgotten either.” your gaze was as sharp as hers was, meeting in the middle with fire and lightning crackling between you.

she stepped forward, face to face with you. for a second, you thought she’d punch you, but you didn’t back down.

then she laughed. it wasn’t at all like her laugh in the tree the day before. this was her cold, cruel laugh that she usually saved for her victims. with a start, you realised that’s what you were: another victim of clarisse la rue. your heart broke for a split second before you pulled yourself together and straightened your back, meeting her eyes.

“kiss you?” she snickered. “get your head out of your ass, angel, you’re not all that because you can shoot a bow and climb a tree.”

you stepped closer to her, so you were right up in her face. “and you’re not all that because you scare away everyone who cares about you, just because your daddy’s a little mean. you don’t need to be a bitch about everything.”

you regretted it instantly. you’d gone too far. you knew that.

her face dropped and a hurt look flashed through her eyes, but it died as soon as it came to life.

you stepped back and turned, marching away.

“where are you going?” she called after you. “we’re not finished here!”

“you have something else to say to me, clarisse, you come find me!” you shot back, your voice hard. you didn’t start arguments often, but goddamn did you finish them.

you stomped into the forest, determined to find your dagger and arrow so you could prove to both clarisse and sam that you were capable of more than just shooting arrows from trees and running away from fights.

it was darker today. the clouds that covered camp half-blood permeated through the forest, leaving a heavy weight suspended among the trees. the air felt thicker, even, and the birdsong seemed quieter than usual. was there something around? something hanging in the air, waiting to attack you? drag your body back to camp and leave it on clarisse’s doorstep like a cat bringing in a dead bird?

or was your fear just because you were alone instead of with the rest of camp.

whatever it was, it put you on edge.

there was a clicking sound behind you, like someone was cracking a joint, but when you turned, no one was there. you weren’t foolish enough to call out.

you could feel a chill going down your spine, and that’s when you knew: the first shoe had dropped.

your eyelids fluttered and you nearly dropped to the ground, but you leaned heavily against a tree to catch yourself. typical. go out on your own, thinking you can take care of yourself and you get hit with a premonition. how’s that for fate?

you let the feeling wash over you; the pure panic of the near future and the warm grip of a hand on your wrist, like someone was pulling you along.

the future was not looking promising.

there was another clicking sound behind you as you finally managed to straighten up, much closer this time.

you turned around.

the bushes were rustling.

you suddenly realised what that clicking sound was.

mandibles.

two ants the size of german shepherds burst through the foliage. myrmeke.

there was the other shoe, dropping real hard.

“shit!” you stumbled backward, reaching for a weapon. you had no weapon. “double shit!”

you turned and ran.

the ants were fucking fast. they could have caught up to you if you weren’t so agile, turning and springing off in different directions every few steps, sending them careening into trees and rocks. that was the only thing keeping you alive.

where even were you? you didn’t recognise this area. hopefully you weren’t running directly for their anthill. that would be a real twist of fate.

then you burst into a new area, this one with a large tree—a large tree that you recognised.

“yes!” you exclaimed, dashing for the trunk. you found your dagger easily, then your discarded arrow too. you didn’t know what good they’d do against the myrmeke, considering that their shells were as hard as armour and, while force was good in some cases, you had to admit that sharpness may have helped you against them.

you couldn’t run anymore. your screaming lungs told you that. you couldn’t climb either. the ants could climb better than you and you’d be a sitting duck up there, no matter how high you went. but maybe, just maybe, you could hold them off until they got bored or someone realised you were missing.

it wasn’t easy, but you managed to deflect and dodge the myrmeke’s attacks. they were fast, but you were faster. you even managed a swipe at one of their legs as you rolled past, but all it did was leave a tiny chink in its armour.

you were beginning to lose hope.

honestly, what you wouldn’t give for a spear right now. your blunt dagger and slim arrow were about as good as a toothpick against these monsters.

just as you were backed against the tree that you’d once found a safe haven, you heard a battle cry. you could have sobbed from relief, but instead, as the spear-wielding figure landed on top of one of the ants, driving her weapon into the gap between its armoured plates, you took your opportunity to stab your arrow with as much force as you could into the other ant’s gaping mouth, slipping it precisely between its mandibles and, hopefully, into its brain.

it jerked back in pain and screeched, the sound making your ears ring, but it didn’t die. instead, it looked rightfully pissed off, and now it had an arrow sticking from its mouth.

as your saviour pulled her spear from the ants back, a warm, brown liquid sprayed on you. it smelled like ants always did after you crushed them, just a million times worse. you wondered if this was revenge for all the ants you’d murdered in your life.

“gross!” you exclaimed, wiping it off your face.

“grow up, bows, we gotta go!” clarisse. your saviour was clarisse. of course.

just as you were about to protest, two more myrmeke crept out of the forest towards you.

she gripped your wrist, right where that warmth was in your premonition, and dragged you away, making you drop your dagger in the rush.

“i dropped my—“

“save it!” she snapped, pulling you along.

the desperation in her voice kicked you into gear and you started running faster, alongside her now.

you didn’t use the same tactics as before. instead of dodging, you just ran as fast as you could and prayed that the myrmeke would be slower. clarisse seemed to know where she was going, at least.

“you’re such an idiot!” clarisse yelled as they ran.

“we’re doing this now?” you panted incredulously.

“you could have died!”

“we’ll both die if you don’t stop yelling at me!”

finally, gloriously, you breached the edge of the forest and stepped into camp. the myrmeke wouldn’t follow you there.

you dropped to you knees, panting and staring into the forest. clarisse was standing in front of you, her spear ready, just in case.

you’d stepped into a quiet part of camp up behind the amphitheatre, so there was no one around to see you, and no one around to help you. you had a feeling that if the myrmeke didn’t kill you, clarisse wouldn’t hesitate.

once it was clear that they weren’t following, she rounded on you.

you were still on your knees, your legs too tired and shaky with adrenaline to stand, but she didn’t seem to care.

“what were you thinking, going in on your own?” she snapped.

“well i wasn’t expecting to get attacked by killer ants within the camp’s borders!” you protested.

“everyone knows they’re there.”

“i forgot, okay? i’m not perfect.”

“oh, i know.” she rolled her eyes.

“gods, would you just fuck off?” you finally stood up, face to face with her. “you’re horrible sometimes, you know that? i can’t believe i’ve defended you.”

“i don’t need your defending.”

“and i don’t need your help!”

“you would have died!” she yelled, emphasising every word.

“but i didn’t!” you shouted back.

she rolled her eyes and stepped closer, anger practically radiating off her. “yeah, thanks to me. you’d be dead if i hadn’t followed you in there—“

“why did you follow me?” you asked suddenly, voice harsh.

“what?”

“why did you follow me?” you asked again, slower. “i didn’t ask you to look after me, clarisse.”

there it was again. that slightly relaxation of her shoulders when you said her name. it drove you nuts. you didn’t know if you wanted to kiss her for hours or throw her to the myrmeke.

she tensed up again and turned to leave. “whatever. i’m done here.”

“i’m not!” you gripped her shoulder and pulled her back around. to your surprise, she didn’t pull a weapon on you. “why did you follow me, clarisse? was it the same reason that you were flirting with me yesterday? and why you’re so protective of me? and why you hate sam?”

“i wasn’t flirting with you,” she grumbled. “and i hate sam for… personal reasons. and i’m not protective of you! why would you even think that?”

“that’s all bullshit and you know it,” you sneered.

“gods, you aggravate me!” she exclaimed.

“you didn’t have to come help me,” you scoffed, stepping back. “i didn’t ask for your help.”

“and i didn’t want to help you!”

“then why did you? huh? you could handle not winning a fight? you wanted to finish the argument on your terms?” your eyebrows were raised and your face was cold. “or were you gonna beat me up but the giant killer ants got to me first?”

she looked like she was about to explode with anger. “because i love you!”

the air escaped from your lungs in one sharp moment, and it looked like hers did the same thing.

“what?” you asked, your voice softer.

it was silent. she looked like she was trying to find something to say, but couldn’t. her mouth opened and closed weakly, and she shook her head, lips pressed together. you wanted to kiss her.

so you did.

she tensed up as your hands came to her waist, pulling her body and lips against yours hard. then, finally, she relaxed. she dropped her spear at your feet and raised her hands to your hair, threading her fingers through the strands. she was a softer kisser than you’d expected, but it was definitely her. it was all her. the tug on your hair, the underlying, undeniable harshness of the kiss, the spear that rested against your foot. it was perfectly clarisse. you could have kissed her until the sun went down and the ants came and carried you both to their anthill, and if you stayed kissing her like this, you wouldn’t even mind.

when, finally, you pulled away, you were both breathing heavily. all of the tension from the fight hid dissipated, leaving only a warm sparkling in the air, like a mirage around her face in the sunlight. maybe that was a sign? or a vision? whatever it was, it was heaven-sent.

she was smiling. she looked softer like this. gods, you loved it. it felt like fate, and you knew a lot about fate. fate was fickle. fate was cruel. fate brought you the arguments, the myrmeke, the terror. but fate also brought you this. this girl who was glowing in the sun like she was made of pure rays of light. the girl with a spear that she laid down at your feet and would save you barehanded if you asked. the girl who had sunk into your arms like she was made to be there.

“do you think i can get that new dagger now?” you asked cheekily, playing with the hem of her camp shirt. “i mean, i have girlfriend privileges now, right, babe?”

clarisse rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. “shut up, devil.”

“ooh, devil. that’s new,” you teased. “i like it. it’s apt.”

“it sure is.” she looked down. “i’m… sorry, by the way.”

“me too,” you nodded. “i didn’t really mean any of that, you know?”

“‘cause you like me,” she said in a teasing voice.

“yeah, ‘cause i like you, or whatever.” you kissed her again, smiling against her lips. “and i know you like me too, because you so did nearly kiss me in that tree yesterday.”

she shrugged. “maybe. maybe not. guess we’ll never know.”

you found out at the next capture the flag game. and the next. and the next. she would go out of her way to find you, defeat you, then kiss you before running off to win the games. and honestly, you didn’t really mind.

fate was a fickle thing, but with clarisse by your side, no one could touch you. sam left you alone, people started treating you better, and you had everything you could ask for. her.

and whenever you two argued, you’d go into the woods together and kill some ants. after all, what says ‘couple’s bonding’ quite like murder?

[azsazz]

Might Bite Back

Vampire!Azriel x Human!Reader

Summary: Anon Reqs: "how do you think vamp az would react it he lost control of his blood thirst and accidentally hurt reader?" and "OMG a fic where Vamp!Az loses control and accidentally hurts reader and then he realises what hes done!! I LIVE for those fics, we need more vamp az!!!!!!!"

Warnings: Biting, blood, vampire things.

Word Count: 2,544

Notes: This belongs on the vampire Azriel timeline.

_________________________________________

Something startles you awake.

It isn’t a noise, it’s the lack thereof that startles you awake. 

There’s an eerie silence to the black consuming the room. You curse yourself for falling asleep when you’ve been so desperately aware of the fact that he lurks at night, watching, waiting.

Your body is rigid, heart stuttering loudly in your chest, and the only part of you that moves is your eyelids as you blink wearily, sleep still clinging to your body, your mind searching through a hundred scenarios, trying to pinpoint what is going on. 

This is different from the silence you’ve slowly become accustomed to, when you were taken in the dead of night by the undead. His fangs had gleamed in the moonlight and you’d screamed so loudly that the trees surrounding the secluded home shook. Crows cawed in warning, flocking from trees and night creatures startled from the woods. Your blood wooshed in your ears like the wind pulling your hair from your nape, carrying your sickly sweet scent to his parted, hungry lips.

Your heart pounds in your chest exactly like that night. When you had felt like nothing more than prey.

Turning your head slowly, as if the slightest movement might make the darkness snap, you look towards the door. The chair you’d stuffed beneath the knob is still in place, and though you know the flimsy construction of wood would not withstand an ounce of his force, it serves as a piece to make noise should it shift, in case you’ve fallen asleep, much like you had tonight.

You force your rampant heart to calm, ears straining over the waves of blood rushing through them as you listen for the silent entity sharing the home with you. You’ve picked up on the noises that you could, trained your ear to hear the signs of the vampire that has locked you in this gothic tower. The whisper of fabric on cold skin, since his silent steps are impossible to pick up. The shifting of the air in the rooms as he moves, growing colder with his menacing presence. The rustle of his wings when he stretches them in frustration. The shivers crawling up your spine whenever he’s near.

But right now, there’s nothing. 

“Azriel?” you ask into the darkness, and you sound nothing more than a terrified child. There are no monsters lying beneath your bed, waiting to snatch you up by your ankles. No, this monster roams the large home freely, sharp teeth on display so that you know exactly what he can do. The only time you’re even a smidge safe is when the sun blinds through curtains you force open daily, but even the sweltering rays are not here to help you now. You are petrified beyond all belief, despite the softer instances you’ve seen of the slightly unhinged vampire who’s trapped you in what you know will be your grave.

There is no answer to your call, but you don’t expect one. He’s a predator first and foremost, and he thrives off of the quickening pace of your heart, the sound of your blood rushing through your body, the shuddering of your bones as you tremble. You catch him sometimes, when you quiver before him, how he licks his lips, fangs pressing into the soft skin of his unfairly luscious lips.

Your mind is screaming at you not to move, not to get up and find out what’s awoken you and has you feeling this unease. Surely, Azriel cannot be in danger. He is the danger. 

No one has tried to breach your room, the chair hooked up against the door, and you wince at the scrape it makes when you pull it away and turn the knob.

The door gives easily, almost swooping in on a phantom wind. It’s not him. Your body is too accustomed to his presence by now. And the lack thereof a darkness that rattles you so deeply it makes your thighs clench, you know he is not near.

The hall is long and dark, freezing cold. So much so that you can see your breath puffing before your face. Azriel doesn’t understand that you need heat to survive in your inferior human body, and you won’t tell him. Maybe it will become so cold at night that you’ll fall into a peaceful slumber, each shallow breath icing over until your heart freezes in your chest. Then, you won’t be trapped anymore.

But there’s a part of you that’s driven down the hall, seeking him out. A part of you that you shove away when you wonder if he’s alright. A part of you that likes knowing that he’s there, watching you when you’re doing the most mundane things to keep yourself from getting bored to death in this hell. When you read in front of the window, or cook yourself something in the kitchen. When you put on a particularly expensive dress for what? For…for him.

Your footsteps are silent against the carpets but to him you know you sound as if you’re stomping around the corridor, making as much noise as possible. It’s normally your tactic during the days, wanting him to know your displeasure for this place. The thought of him being able to hear your soft steps, your hardly there breaths makes you quake in both fear and excitement, knowing how he always knows your location, and can seek you out no matter where you run.

“Azriel?” you call again, softly. It’s hardly a whisper at all, and there is no response.

Your fingers tremble where they’re pressed to the wall, following the darkened corridor. They brush over the frames of artwork curling at the edges, paint dusty and faded with time. You caress the wooden railing, following it down the staircase, ignoring the nagging in your mind that’s telling you to run.

A fire crackles in the hearth and you pause, confused. All this time Azriel has never kept a fire going, not even per your request with chattering teeth and bluish fingers. He doesn’t like them, and you don’t ask why. You don’t care why. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

You don’t know what possesses you to move closer to it when the popping of logs is a clear warning sign.

Pausing on the last step, foot hovering before the floor, the hair at the nape of your neck prickles. It winds down your spine like an icy rope, settling into the very marrow of your bones. It doesn’t feel right. Nothing feels right.

Before you can whirl around, race back up the staircase to your room, a voice sounds softly in your ear. “You smell impeccable, crow.”

You whirl, a scream tearing from your lips as you tumble from the stair. You catch yourself on frozen toes, staring up at Azriel with wide eyes, who is shrouded in shadow. He’s standing with preternatural stillness, spine tall. His wings are tucked tightly behind his back, and the talons stick high above his head like horns. 

“Azriel?” you ask, taking a step back. Two.

He doesn’t answer, he follows. Azriel takes one step forward for every one you move away, towards the sitting room with the fire. Orange light bathes him, and you can feel it roaring hot at your back.

As the firelight washes over his stoic face, your stomach roils in horror. This is not the Azriel who had stolen you away, who had given you dresses and your own space, who tried to make you feel less like you were robbed of your former life and more like this had been a choice.

But none of it has been a choice. And you are reminded just what he is capable of at the sight of red-rimmed eyes, the lack of color, the baring of sharp fangs that call your name. 

Bloodlust.

His pupils have swallowed the stroke of hazel completely. You watch as his fingers curl and his nostrils flare when your heart triples in pace. His unfocused gaze sharpens on the column of your throat where your pulse pushes through your skin. 

“Please,” you beg, but he doesn’t seem to hear you. Azriel is no longer there, instead, the very beast that lurks inside of him has taken control and is thirsty for blood.

Azriel lunges and you scream, pivoting on your heel. If you can make it to the iron poker by the fire you may be able to slow him down, stun him as you claw at the front door to try and get away. It’s no ashwood, which would kill the vampire who is much too fast for you to even take a step, grabbing you and pulling you back into his chest.

You thrash, screaming, but your efforts are futile. No one can hear you in the depths of these woods. Your strength is no match for him.

Azriel must be in there somewhere, as he is not crushing your body into dust. No, he wants you otherwise unharmed except for holes in your neck. That, he doesn’t mind seeing, tasting. It’s exactly what he’s taken you for, isn’t it? Just when you’d begun thinking that he might not be as bad as the stories you were told when you were young, tales of bloodthirsty creatures who would tear your throat out to taste your pretty blood.

Now is your time.

His grip is strong around your wrists. You kick back with your leg but can hardly reach him. He is immune to your weak hits. You can feel him leaning over you, closer and closer until his fangs are a whisper against your skin, a tease pinpricking right over your thrumming pulse.

“Devine,” he whispers, and the sensuality of it rips through your body like a lance. As you part your lips to exhale another beg, he bites. You scream.

You tremble in his iron hold. His fingers feel like icepicks as they dig into your flesh. Your scream melts into something long as heat courses through your body, the adrenaline and sting of his teeth burning you to your core. It feels…good. 

It feels like you’re walking on flames, yet they aren’t burning you. They’re caressing you in the best way, holding you, cradling you like a babe. For the first time since you’ve arrived at this horrible place, you feel warm. Like Azriel is embracing you, and he is, because you’ve stopped fighting. His hands are around your waist, holding you tightly, and yours are buried in his thick hair. Heat courses through your bones, pooling between your thighs. Your mind whirls with pleasure as he suckles, the hot press of his tongue lapping your skin, mirrored in the pulse of your throbbing clit.

You relish in the feeling. His body pressed tightly to yours, the strain of his cock through the thin fabric of your nightgown. You can feel the way his muscles loosen the longer he leeches from your neck. 

And you enjoy it until you become woozy, when the euphoria seeps from your blood back into his mouth. When his grip feels like each individual finger is imprinted on your bones. Your neck throbs painfully, and your vision is blackening with shadows in the corners. Your head lolls a little, unable to keep it up.

“Azriel,” you choke, but it’s hard to get your lips to form the words. It’s difficult to do anything except lean into him, to let him take his fill. But you have to try, because this is not how you want it all to end. “You’re…” you huff a painful exhale, “You’re hurting me.”

He goes still, bones popping with the effort. His hold on your falters and you sway, and as badly as he wants to pull away, to run and hide in a whisper of darkness, he catches you, because he’s harmed you and the bloodlust has been wiped away by your words alone. Words he swore he’d never pull from you. Words that will haunt him for centuries.

You’re hurting me.

His vision clears, goes sharp, staring right at the two holes in your neck, thick, red blood still dribbling from the punctures. The beast in him rages to lean down and lick you, keep sucking at the marks until your already slowing heart stops completely. He wants to feel the last beat of your heart beneath his hands, his lips, but he forces himself to do the one thing he hadn’t been able to do tonight: focus.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers in horror, when his mind catches up to what he’s looking at. You, looking so broken and fragile in his arms, pale. Your head rests against his chest, eyes fluttering with the strain to keep them open. Your mouth parts but no words come out. 

Azriel wants so badly to drop you, to get away from you, because he’s so stupidly allowed his bloodlust to consume him. He selfishly thought that he would be okay for a few more days, that he wouldn’t have to hunt in the aftermath of a brutal storm because all of the animals would be hidden away. He’s been stupid to think that, and the worst has happened.

He shoves the couch closer to the fire with a shove of his boot. The logs pop and he winces, hating the sound. He’d started the fire as a way to lure you down, the warmth calling to you. It was as much of a present for you as it was a distraction for him. A warning he was giving himself, not to enter the room with the fire roaring in the hearth. He hates the way the flames taunt him. You hadn’t made it to the room before your scent had stuck in his throat and his beast caught a whiff. 

Your body looks frail when he sits you down. Your eyes have closed and your lips have lost color. Azriel knows that if his heart was capable of pulsing, it would be a pounding drum in his chest, beating with worry. He races to your rooms, ripping your blankets from your mattress and is back by your side in a matter of seconds. He tucks you in tight, worrying over you as if you are a sick babe. But you’re not, you’re a pretty little thing that he’d taken in the dead of night for his own selfish reasons. For company, for your heart. But never for your blood. 

This is not how any of this was supposed to go.

Azriel’s mind races with thought. The wounds on your neck have stopped leaking, and they’ll close up quicker if he just licks over it one more time but he can’t force himself, not when he’d violated you like this, hurt you. He needs to leave. He needs to get as far away from you as he can. 

The lethargic beating of your heart tells him that you’re going to be okay. You will be wobbly for a few days, throat in pain, but you’ll live. He didn’t go too far tonight. He didn’t drink you dry.

So Azriel does the only thing that he can. The only thing that he’s ever been good at. 

He leaves.

[gay-dorito-dust]

requesting for a friend, fluffy sfw Liu Kang head canons with gn s/o reader, or reader has a crush on Liu Kang!

Being loved by Liu Kang can only be described as warm, soft and secure.

He’s so attentive when it comes to you.

Every single thing you’ve ever entrusted to him is stored and memorised within his head for safe keeping. Liu Kang remembered all the fact about you for the soul reason that he firmly believed that you were so worth knowing, right down to your very being even. You brought a sense of intrigue out of him that urged him into getting to know you so intimately that he might as well be half of your literal soul.

Liu Kang even knows of the smaller, almost missable details about you that no one else knows, something of which never fails to make you smile and always ask;

‘You remembered?’

Only for Liu Kang to forever and always reply with;

‘Of course I remember, for everything about you is worth remembering, even the ones that you deem embarrassing or silly for they’re just as important if one is to understand you.’

Liu Kang is the kind of man who’d hold your hands as though they’re made out of porcelain, easily susceptible to fractures and breakages under immense pressure, his thumb would stroke the back of your hand comfortingly, reassuringly, as though to remind you that he was there with and for you no matter what; all the while keeping you warm and protected from the harsh cold.

He gives the most unquestionably comforting cuddles out of anyone and for you, his arms were open no matter what.

So whenever he saw that you were in any sort of distress, sadness or just having a less then pleasant time, he would let you get yourself get comfortable within his arms and rest your head upon his chest, before then holding you against him as his warmth softly blanketed you; Easing your body into a relaxed state and allow for all your daily stresses to slip away while Liu Kang occasionally kisses the top of your head as he waited patiently for you speak upon your struggles.

He encourages you to appreciate the smaller, slower things in life as they’re the moments that many people come to regret not appreciating more later on in life. So you’ll have moments where you’re either doing things such as going on walks together, stoping to rest beneath a tree and be fully immersed in each other. Or maybe attempt at cooking together with him offering his assistance by standing behind you with those gentle glowing eyes of his observing your movements.

Either way no matter what it is that you do, you’ll always have something to look back on fondly and with a sense of accomplishment of having something so pure, so beautiful and to have it be a reminder of your love for you to treasure well into old age.

Tell him about your hyper fixations or just things you’re extremely well versed in please! Liu Kang wants to hear all of it and be able to watch as the love and the passion bleed out through your words, your facial expressions and your body language.

And if you were to apologise or go silent afterwards because you felt as though you were annoying or boring him to death. He would immediately reassure you that wasn’t the case and would never be the case before asking you questions about your special interest/favourite subject; and therefore continue to show his need towards wanting to know every detail about you. So much so to the point he could remember your favourite piece of information that you’ve found on your deep dive about your interest.

If you have problems articulating your thoughts and feelings into words, Liu Kang would be there to help give you the space you needed to express yourself and all without a spec of judgment on his behalf. He understands more so than others that it takes a lot to talk about one’s feelings without being dismissed by others as either too sensitive, too emotional or otherwise.

Values your comfortability over everything else.

You don’t like loud and or crowed social spaces because they make you get genuinely upset, or even uncomfortable to the point where in then makes everything your currently experiencing even worse, as though it was becoming all much for you to handle? (Cuz same)

Liu Kang would have no qualms taking you someplace else that would be more convenient for you or just go straight back home and get you whatever you needed to regain a sense of self somewhat. He’s just so accommodating to you and never makes you feel like a burden or anything less than his lover.

He loves you with his entire heart and soul and nothing you could do would ever change that reality for him. You’re his everything and he’s entrusting you with the safety of his heart, much like you have entrusted yours to him, so please don’t break it.

Liu Kang practically melts into your touch whenever your hands were pressed into his skin, against his face, where he would then lift his hands to cover your own before then closing his eyes to soak in your presence with a soft, gentle smile gracing his perfect face. He might even even rest his forehead against your own just so he feels that little bit closer to you during a tender moment. He doesn’t want to forget how you felt against him, so he takes great pride in remembering how your body fit against him. as though you were the one thing he was missing this entire time.

Liu Kang’s kisses are soft, tender and passionate. His lips were pillowy and sweet when weaving between your own in a slow and timely manner, like he had unlimited time to engrave a story into your lips, a sweet and beautiful story regarding your relationship and the emotions he felt throughout. His hand placements would either be at the small of your back and keeping you pressed against him, chest to chest, or one hand is at your lower back whilst the other is resting on your upper back/ back of your neck.

Bonus short hdc;

Never dares to raise his voice towards you.

In fact he doesn’t tolerate that sort of behaviour towards significant others.

He has patience in abundance.

Effective communicator.

His love languages are words of affirmation and acts of service.

[crusty-chronicles]

BONUS AIRHEADED S/O HEADCANNONS: Zoro (One Piece)

An: I wanna face plant in his tits. 👉👈

---------

Zoro knows you're stupid

He knows

But he'll still take your advice like you actually know what you're talking about

Resulting in it back firing at him 90% of the time

"Hey! Which snakes are poisonous again?" He asked after getting bit by one.

"Red and yellow will kill a fellow. Red and black are friends of Jack." You recite proudly, remembering what Robin thought you.

"Okay, so what does this count as."

He holds up a bright yellow snake.

"Um.... Probably not venomous."

It was indeed venomous and poor Chopper had a heart attack trying to come up with an antidote.

Especially after Zoro kept insisting 'he was fine' and 'he'd tough it out.'

Honesty, he doesn't care if you're stupid most of the time.

Luffy's just as dumb and look at him.

Well, maybe don't. But it doesn't change the fact that he's already following one idiot around.

What's one more?

You leave out food? For the ants??? So they don't get hungry?????

"You're gonna cause an infestation in the kitchen...Wait, never mind. You're doing a good job."

He'll help you put the blame on Ussop just so Sanji can continue to suffer.

"What do you mean you broke the fish tank!?!? Franky's gonna be pissed!"

"That stingray was looking at me funny."

You gesture towards a fish that was not a stingray.

Honestly you give him a headache most days.

But he's too lazy to worry about what you do

As long as you don't rope him in.

He also won't baby you.

Rather, he helps cover up whatever trouble you caused or just laughs off your antics.

Partner in crime, at least until Nami finds out

Then you're officially on your own.

He still loves you tho

Just from a distance 👉👈

You probably came along a little after Thriller Bark.

Joining from the island they were currently resting at because according to Luffy, 'They're really cool.'

Which is never enough reason to join the crew.

But it's not hard to see what he meant when he asked you to 'do the thing' and you tore a tree up from its roots.

Yeah, you can stay

Just don't cause trouble.

He warms up to you after a while.

Namely seeing you interacting with Nami and her actually smiling.

If Nami likes you, then either she was gonna hurt you or you must've been genuinely a good person.

(It's because she'll tell you to do something and unlike their captain, you don't complain.)

You also get on Sanji's nerves, which immediately puts you in his good graces.

There isn't an isolated moment or anything leading up to him falling for you.

He was just watching you mess around with Luffy and Chopper when he realized he liked your laugh.

Then your smile

And when you caught him starting, you waved with an overly excited expression.

Like a puppy

And it makes heat flood to his cheeks, forcing him to turn away.

Zoro is about as romantic as a rock.

There's no way he's going to court you

If you're expecting a date, then I've got some bad news.

However ☝️

Zoro's way of flirting is inviting you to train with him

You're the only one allowed in the Crow's Nest when he's in there.

He's a man who admires strength, what can I say.

Toss him over your shoulder, punch him, hell lift some weights and he's 💗💗💗

It's also a way for him to show off

Slightly flexing to see your reaction. But of course, you're stupid so you don't really notice when he does it.

Tell him he's strong and he'll carry that with him the rest of the day.

If your weapon of choice is also a sword, he's smitten

In the stupid way tho. Like trying to teach you his techniques or critiquing yours.

"You're not doing it right." Is an excuse to correct your form and touch you

If he really loves you, he'll invite you to nap with him.

Sit on his lap or he'll sit on yours. He doesn't give two shits.

Either way, he's tired and wants to cuddle.

Let's you smoosh your face between his boobs if you ask nicely.

Only you 🫵

He'll glare if someone's watching and laughing.

"Yeah? Jealous it's not you?"

Zoro loves fighting with you

He won't hold you back if you want to fight

Not only can you keep up, but you move a little faster than him.

Seeing you sink marines gives him a feeling of pride.

Like, look at you!

That's his S/O!

He'll be excited to see your bounty go up along with his.

NEVER go exploring on an island alone

You two will not be found for days

Somebody who isn't an idiot and has a good sense of direction has to go with you.

It's probably Sanji tbh

Does Zoro get jealous?

He doesn't have the attention span to get jealous

Someone's flirting with you?

Eh, you don't notice it anyway. That person can try but they'll never get anywhere.

You haven't been spending a lot of time with him?

He'll just sleep with the full confidence you'll be back when he wakes up.

He just isn't worried about you losing interest

BUT he'll be damned if that cook comes anywhere near you.

Again, about as romantic as a rock.

He's not gonna be calling you lovey dovey names.

He also finds it embarrassing.

You won't catch him pulling that 'Nami-Swan!' crap.

He'd rather die

But on a very rare occasion where it's just the two of you, he'll call you baby or babe.

Nothing other than that

And he'll deny he ever said it

No confession to be found

He likes you and you seem to like him, so you're his.

Unless you say otherwise, you're dating.

MASTERLIST

[iamthecomet]

𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘺 𝘋𝘢𝘺 𝘛𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘺: 𝘎𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨

Rating: G Pairing: Swiss/Mountain Words: 741 Mushy May by @forlorn-crows Banner by @ghuleh-recs

Mountain sets an armload of pots down in the soft grass of the greenhouse. He straightens, stretching his spine until it pops loudly. He sags, wiping sweat from his brow with his dirt covered forearm, smearing it through auburn eyebrows and over freckled skin. 

Swiss huffs out a laugh as he watches, setting more pots down, looking over at Mountain’s dirt streaked face. 

“It’s too hot for this and you know it.” 

Mountain frowns. It is hot. It’s a balmy 95 outside, so he knows the greenhouse is much warmer. The air thick and damp. Beyond the glass walls he can see the others at the lake. Cumulus stretched out on a blanket with a book. Rain, Dew and Aeon trying to drown each other, Cirrus, floating a good distance away from them on a giant floaty shaped like a piece of pizza. 

“It has to be done, Swiss.” 

Mountain sighs, dragging his eyes away from his pack. He’ll finish up here and be out there with them in no time–but he can’t wait any longer. It’s too hot in here for the vegetables he started in the spring, and besides that they’re starting to take over. 

“Today?” 

Mountain nods. “It’s going to rain tomorrow. If we get them in today they’ll get a good strong start and–”

“And we’ll be overrun with tomatoes and cucumbers and squash like always,” Swiss teases. “I think there’s still shredded zucchini in the freezer from last year.” 

“Leave it to you to scoff at abundance.” Mountain rolls his eyes. “It’s only a couple more trips. I can do it, you don’t have to help.” 

Mountain turns to gather more plants. Loading his arms with plastic and terracotta pots alike, balencing them precariously in an attempt to make it take less trips back and forth from the vegetable garden. Swiss catches a poorly balanced pepper plant just before it falls to its death. 

“Shut up,” Swiss chides. Taking more of the plants from Mountain. “I don’t mind.” 

“You were just complaining.” 

Swiss waves him away. “So? I can complain and still like helping. I just wish you’d talk to them less while you’re planting them, it would go faster.” 

“You have to talk to them, Swiss.” Mountain says, matter-of-fact as they push through the greenhouse doors and out onto the lawn. “They get nervous otherwise.” 

Swiss doesn’t dignify that with a response, instead he just leads the way to the vegetable garden. A wide swath of freshly tilled land surrounded by a low stone wall, bracketed by fruit trees in full bloom. Swiss takes his stack of plants to one side of the garden, and Mountain goes to the other. 

They work silently. Planting seedlings in neat organized rows. Hands tamping down fresh dirt around delicate roots. Mountain whispering praises, and reassurance to each tiny plant. 

There’s a whoop of laughter from the lake, and a shriek that could only belong to Cirrus. 

“Someone flipped her,” Swiss says without looking up. 

“They’ll be dead before dinner.” 

“It’s really a shame that we’re missing the show.” 

Mountain laughs to himself, he shakes his head as he plants his last cucumber plant. “We can take a break, if you want.” 

Swiss stands up, wiping dirt off the knees of his jeans even though it’s a lost cause. He shakes his head. 

“It’s like one more batch. We might as well finish. The lake will be there when we’re done.” 

Mountain’s back screams in protest when he stands, but he knows Swiss is right. He knows if they go to the lake now–even if it is just to watch Cirrus attempt murder–they’ll never come back and the last batch of Sunshine’s favorite tomatoes will never make it into the ground. 

“You’re right.” 

“Usually am,” Swiss says with a smile. He slings his sweaty arm around Mountain’s shoulders, leans his head into Mountain’s. Horns knocking together as Mountain angles toward him. Swiss smells like sweat, and dirt and weed. Earthy in a way that makes Mountain want to crawl inside of that smell and live there.  

“Just, less talking to the plants this time, yeah? I do want to make it to the lake before winter.” 

Mountain sighs, tries to swallow a laugh. “Fine. But it’s your fault when we don’t have enough tomatoes.” 

Swiss rolls his eyes, breaking away from Mountain to pull open the greenhouse door and step into the oppressive heat. “I’m willing to risk it.”

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Please Fix the Story pt 28- The Higher Realm

New part is up! More with Liam and Bel!

Masterpost linked here

_________________________

A few days passed, and although it couldn’t be said that I grew stronger in this realm, at least I wasn’t any weaker. Every morning Liam would bring me a cup of his blood, and I would drink it silently, pretending not to notice the strange color and taste.

Despite the need for blood to keep me alive, the days were surprisingly fun. Liam and I would go out each morning and explore the forest. We would find more rocks for his collection, and the rare patches of fruits or edible plants that had survived in this life-stealing realm. We spent the time talking, learning about each other.

“You know I actually like this forest quite a bit.” He said one day as we walked, his hands idly picking dying leaves from the branches as we passed by.

The confession caught me off guard. “I thought you called this place your cage.” A cage for a monster, in fact, which Liam is the furthest thing from.

“Well that’s not the forest’s fault! It might seem a bit lifeless and dull at first, but the close you watch it, the more things you can discover!” He grinned, the expression bringing a warmth in my heart. “There’s the stubborn trees and flowers that survive, the occasional crow and insect! Sometimes when I’m fly… when I’m running through the forest, I see so many different types of life I can’t even count them! There’s something new to find every day!”

Soo.…Liam can fly, right? He definitely said fly.

I didn’t say anything to him about it, though. He clearly was hiding something about himself. He was just as clearly extremely bad at keeping secrets. But I never pressed him. I just hoped that when he felt comfortable enough, he would tell me. Watching him laugh and talk about exploring his realm… his cage... and finding the beauty in it made me want to laugh and cry at the same time. What a wonderful person…or whatever it is that he is.

I watched him continue to explore with an excited look, unable to hold back a smile myself.

No matter what Liam really is, nothing could be worse than the company I was keeping in the higher realm. I forcibly turned my thoughts away as they drifted towards Adonis and his betrayal. No use wasting any time or energy on him.

Looking ahead, my eyes widened in shocked delight as a I spotted a familiar object.

“Are those apples?!”

Liam rushed ahead, still much stronger than I was even with his blood, and examined the fruit closely. Finally, he picked one with a broad smile. “It is! I didn’t even know there were any apples in this world! See I told you! Something new every day! Let’s take a break!”

He cleaned off a tree stump and helped me sit down, before leaning on a tree nearby. I pointed at the fruit in his hand, unable to contain my excitement. “Can I have one too?” I had eaten nothing but meat for the past few days, and although Liam’s cooking had improved by leaps and bounds, I was still craving something else.

“Of course, no need to ask!  This one is for you!” Liam pulled a knife from his belt and began peeling the apple. His actions were neat and efficient, with the ease of familiarity. It took only a few moments, and then the freshly peeled fruit was passed over to me.

I held it in my hands, confused. “Liam… How did you know I like peeled apples?”

Liam grabbed another fruit, preparing to peel that one as well. “You told me.” He seemed unconcerned.

“No… I didn’t.” I thought back to our conversations over the past few days. Apples had never come up.

Or had it?

_________________________

“Why the hatred for the apple peel?” The young man seemed genuinely curious from his tone of voice as he handed me a freshly peeled fruit.

_________________________

A brief memory, flashed before my eyes.  

“No… you did… I think.” Liam’s hands paused and his brow furrowed, something deep within his eyes seemed to flicker and grow.

Silence stretched between us.

Unnerved, I tried to stand up. At the quick movement, I felt lightheaded, almost falling to ground. Liam rushed forward, the apple in his hands dropping to the ground, and caught me, hugging me tightly in his arms. His eyes stared into mine, with only a short space between them.

His eyes were so familiar. I could feel it, even if the memory was just out of reach.

My hand brushed his face, tracing his eyes.

“Who are you, Liam?” I whispered. “How did I know you before I met you? How do you remember things about me I’ve never said?”

Liam turned bright red, but his hands tightened around me, refusing to let me fall. “I’m sorry Bel. I don’t know the answers to your questions.” He gently set me back down on the stump.

“I don’t really even know who I am, other than what others have told me. I’m a villain. I’m a monster.”

He picked up the fallen apple from the ground, cleaning it on his shirt.

 “But even if I don’t know much…  I know what you are, Bel.”

I watched his actions, curious. “What am I?”

He smiled, then turned and walked back to the tree to pick more apples to take home.

“You are a treasure.”

I didn’t know what he meant or how to respond to that, so I sat in silence until he came back to help me up. Together we went back to the cave. Back home.

*** Soul transfer 37% complete. ***

_________________________

After the apple incident more days passed. Without Liam’s blood I knew I would be close to death. But together, we had found our own little peace in this barren world. I was happy, happier than I had ever been in the months in the higher realms traveling with Adonis. Our forced, stifling partnership had been my only social interaction for so long, that I had become resigned to it, considered it normal. Now, I was slowly getting used to being around someone who actually listened to me… cared about me. It was frighteningly addictive, this caring. I wouldn’t, I couldn’t go back to the higher realm, even beyond the desire to spite Adonis and his stupid fate.

But as happy as I was, there were lingering concerns:

First, was the knowledge that Adonis would come back. As much as I hoped never to see him again, I knew it was the inevitable outcome. He had sent me here, yes, but not to die. I wasn’t sure yet what his plan was, but I knew it was going to involve his eventual return.

Not being willing to sit around moping about, I quickly began planning about how to “welcome him” when he did. A few mornings I left into the forest on my own to set up the surprise. Liam was a little concerned when he saw me sneaking around, but I persuaded him it would be worth the wait. I let out an evil laugh as I did so, and strangely enough, the sound seem to reassure him.

The laugh also prompted another change in the glowing blue counter that followed me.

*** Soul transfer 49% complete. ***

The counter was the second concern. It had gone up steadily over the time I had been in this realm, with no clear indicator for the source of its growth. I did think that Liam’s presence might be a catalyst given how slowly it had grown over the time I had been in the higher realm, but I couldn’t quite figure out what about him or my interactions with him was driving it upwards.

Even more infuriating, since the counter had hit 49 percent, it once again was stuck and hadn’t moved. I had grown used to it slowly ticking upwards throughout the day, but now 2 days had passed and it didn’t budge. Any experiments to recreate moments that had led to prior growth ended in failure. I found this incredibly frustrating, wishing I could find whoever was responsible for putting this counter in my head and beat them to a pulp. As that didn’t appear to be a viable option, however, I finally decided to ignore it again.

There was one last thing that kept my time in this realm from being truly happy:

Every night, Liam was forced into a lower realm.

It took me a while to realize it was happening so regularly. I had seen him fall out of the portal when I first arrived, but had heard no similar sounds since. He would say goodnight to me with a bright smile, close the door to my room, and when I woke up in the morning, he had breakfast ready with the same happy demeanor. He never gave any indication that something was wrong, or that he had suffered in any way, and so I continued forward in blissful ignorance.

Until last night.

I had gone to bed, and Liam and wished me goodnight and closed the door like usual. A few minutes later, however, I had a strange feeling that something was wrong. Unable to shake my uneasiness, I stood back up and opened the door. From a different room I could hear the clinking of metal and a muffled grunt of pain. Following the noise, I opened a different door, to a room I hadn’t explored before, not since he had expanded his cave during one of my solo wanderings. As the door swung open, I felt my heart drop.

Liam was in chains.

A glowing portal, similar to the one I had seen him fall from before, hovered before him. Metal chains had extended out from the edges of the portal, wrapping themselves around Liam’s arms and legs. He looked defeated but not surprised by his binding, fighting it uselessly. Slowly the chains started to retract, pulling him into the portal.

“Liam!” I tried to run forward but struggled to move as quickly as I wanted. Liam looked up at my shout, his face shocked for a moment before giving me a sad smile.

“Don’t worry, Bel. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“No!” I cried out, reaching out just as the portal closed around him. My fist slammed on the bare wall that was left behind.

BAM!

I felt uncontrolled rage. The sight of him in chains… his sad resignation… I couldn’t bear it. I thought about Liam calling himself a monster.

BAM! The skin of my hand broke under the force as I slammed it again. Red blood stained my fingers, dripping down onto the ground, the bright red color quickly dulling and turning greyish as the world absorbed the energy from it. For a moment in my mind, I saw the bright gold blood Liam gave me each day, his insistence that it was “normal, human blood.”

There’s still so much I don’t know about him.

I sat on the floor, staring at my bloody hands. I prayed silently, desperately, that his words were correct, and that he would be back in the morning. Until then, I could do nothing but wait.  

It was a long night.

_________________________

After what felt like countless hours, the portal opened up again. Liam dropped down onto the ground onto his back, his hands holding his head, his whole body shaking with pain.  It was too similar to the incident that happened the night I arrived.  

“Liam!” I hugged him tightly, ignoring his shocked yelp as he was yanked into my arms.

“Bel?” He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and then sat next to me on the floor. “Have you been waiting here to whole night?”

“…” I hugged him tighter. Liam hesitated, then slowly wrapped his arms around my shoulders.

“Bel… are you okay?”

I buried my face against his chest. “I was scared.”

“Scared?”

“Scared you weren’t coming back.”

“…” I could feel him freeze in shock at my words, and then a happy chuckle echoed in his chest. “Of course I came back, Bel! You’re here waiting for me. Nothing could stop me from returning to you.”

“What if you found a way to escape this cage? Wouldn’t you take it?”

“Only if I’m bringing you out with me.” One hand slowly rubbed my back as he spoke, a soft, comforting motion. “It’s not really freedom if I’m leaving you behind.”

Finally, after a long while, I backed out of his embrace, ignoring his sad puppy eyes as we moved apart. “What happened tonight? Did you get pulled into a lower realm?”

Liam nodded silently.

“I’ve seen this twice already, on both nights that I left my room. Does this happen to you every night? Have I just been completely clueless and left you to suffer alone?” I felt my eyes fill with tears but held them back.

He panicked, “No it’s not that bad, it’s not every night!” He paused, seeing my silent stare, and slowly admitted. “Okay, so it’s most nights, but still, there’s nothing wrong with you sleeping while I’m in the lower realm. You’re weak from this place sapping your energy, it’s better that you rest so you can do what you want at other times.”

“What about you? How could you be getting enough sleep?”

“Don’t worry, I’m fine!” He waved a hand. “I hibernate every few months for a day or so… I mean…" He blanched. "... I sleep a normal human amount…”

“Right... Liam, I want to go with you next time.” I interrupted his ramblings on normal human sleep. “Don’t do this alone.”

“…” Liam fell silent, looking uncomfortable.

“Don’t worry, I’m used to traveling the lower realms, I can watch your back!”

“No I know. You are extremely capable.”

I met his gaze. “So why do you look so concerned?”

“… I don’t get assigned very good roles to play in these worlds.” His hands wrung together his eyes not meeting my own. “Sometimes weak, sometimes powerful, rarely beautiful, often grotesque.” He hesitated again. “Always evil.”

“Just because you’re assigned the villain role doesn’t make you evil.” I laughed bitterly. “You’ve already seen what the so called ‘hero’ is capable of. I don’t care what character they force you to be. I’ll be there to protect YOU.”

At my words, a smile slowly spread across his face. “Okay then. Let’s go together next time.”

_________________________

The next night, we waited for the portal, hand in hand.

“We’ll have to move quickly once it arrives.”

I nodded in agreement, and then had a thought. “What about the chains?”

“Those only come out if I try to avoid entering the portal.” His voice was calm, but I winced at the memory of him being dragged into the lower realm. It’s okay. I’ll protect him this time.

Before I could say anything further, the portal appeared, hovering in the center of the room.

“Let’s go!” Liam grabbed my hand and rushed forward. I closed my eyes, leapt through the portal, and then in the darkness between worlds immediately lost the sensation of his hand within mine.

“Liam!” I reached out, but I could feel nothing, see nothing, hear only the sound of my own ragged breaths.

And then the darkness cleared.

_________________________

Splash!

Someone threw wine in my face. The smell of alcohol overwhelmed my senses, and I felt the room temperature liquid run down my neck and soak my dress.

What a great way to start off. The sarcastic thought quickly came and went as I sighed,wiping my hand across my face. I could now see that I was in a crowded room of well-dressed strangers. The woman who was the likely wine-throwing culprit, stood in front me with a gloating smirk. She was clutching an empty glass in one hand and a man’s arm in the other. The man with her was watching me with disdain, his expression ruining otherwise classically handsome looks.

“Oops, my mistake.” The woman shrugged and gave a fake laugh. “My hand slipped.”

The man beside her smiled with approval at her action, chuckling at the site of me. “Looks like red is your color.”

Hmm… No idea what kind of story this is, but one thing IS for sure…

I grinned, and punched the woman in her face.

I’m gonna make sure they regret trying to humiliate this lady. I could still feel my character’s deep sadness and sense of betrayal. Whoever these two were, they weren’t good people.

The woman fell backwards from the blow, clutching her face. I watched her fall with a smile, all while speaking in a monotone voice. “Oops, my hand slipped, my bad, teehee.”

Stating the word “teehee” out loud particularly seemed to enrage her, which only encouraged me further.

“El, don’t be childish!” The man snapped, only to break off with a shriek as I kicked out his knee, knocking him to the ground on his back besides the woman.

“Oh no. Look what totally happened by accident.” I continued blandly, while stepping carefully on his crotch. “I’m just so clumsy you see, and it gets so much worse whenever I’m confronted by stupid.”

“You Bit…AHHHH!” The man broke out in another cry as my stiletto came down again.

“Bitahh?” I shrugged. “Haven’t heard that one before. Perhaps you meant, ‘awesome’? I would have also accepted ‘terrifying’.”

He gasped for air, his eyes filled with rage. “Pretend all you like, I’ll never love you!”

I felt a stab of pain in my chest, a holdover from the character I had become, but all they saw from me was a broad grin. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

I walked away, leaving a stunned, silent crowd behind me. As I hurried away, a phone in my pocket went off. I grabbed it, pulling up the familiar text.

**** NEW WORLD: Love is Torture ****

This is a dramatic romance story featuring the bright and innocent young Ella and her husband, the rich, handsome, dark and broody Cameron.

“Oh, you got to be kidding me!” I nearly threw my phone. “I’m married?!”

This dark tale of lies and misunderstandings focuses on the forced marriage between the two leads. Cameron, under the false impression that his younger sister was murdered by a rival in business, dedicates his life to revenge. Forcing the man’s daughter, Ella, to marry him to save her father, he spends his energy trying to break her spirit, hoping her pain would hurt the one who killed his family. He insulted her, humiliating her both publicly and privately. He brought his mistresses to public events, encouraging them to bully her as well.

“So Cameron is the villain, right?” I groaned. “Why did you say he was the lead?”

Little did he know that his sister was not dead, but had in fact suffered amnesia and was living quietly in a small town nearby. In fact, Ella was the kind stranger who saved her life. His deep misunderstanding of her, however, causes a large amount of drama as he fights his growing attraction to her.

“Gross.”

The first book was met with mixed reviews, as most of the readers struggled to support such an abusive male lead. As the story continued, and more and more controversy circled around it, the author abandoned the whole series in disgust, leaving the world unstable.

The Author’s regret was not being able to bring a happy ending to the heroine of the story, leaving her trapped in an abusive relationship and facing a dark future. Your mission is to give the heroine a happy ending.

**** DO YOU ACCEPT THIS MISSION? ****

YES?                                           NO?

“…Does the ending have to involve a relationship with Cameron?”

NO.

“Great!” I tapped the "Yes" button with a grin and found a corner to sit down in as I slowly accepted the memories of this poor character.

“Oh dear, this was worse than I thought.” I muttered.

Ella, the poor girl, had been so very innocent. She had no thought but to save her father, whose business had been crushed by the mis-aimed revenge of a madman. After the marriage, she resolved to make the best of the situation, trying to get to know the handsome man who had become her husband.

Her efforts only brought her pain.

Fortunately, he avoided touching her at all costs, which limited any physical abuse. But the constant insults, tearing down her appearance, her talent for art, her speech. Any perceived flaw was trotted out and exposed for all to see, breaking her heart each time. He flaunted his affairs in front of her, shattering her dream of any loving, committed relationship, frequently and vulgarly comparing his conquests to her which only further spiraled her self-confidence.

I frowned as the memories moved forward in my mind. I hate drama romance leads the most.

This party actually marked a turning point in their relationship. After having wine dumped on her by Cameron’s mistress, she had cried and gone upstairs to change. There, a triumphant and intoxicated Cameron had forced her mid-change against a wall, kissing her. He had soon left, disgusted himself for succumbing to his attraction to her, This was the first time they had had physical contact, and from then on Cameron had found himself more and more drawn to Ella, and she felt trapped, unable to refuse his advances, hoping to protect her father.

I leaned over, puking into a trashcan.

Ella’s memories all too clear about her suffering.  After emptying my stomach, I stood back up, wiping my mouth with a shaking hand. I should have crushed his genitals harder. I was so relieved at having derailed the plot.

Now to go derail it further....And then I need to find Liam.

Following Ella’s memories, I went straight to the home she shared with Cameron, only changing my clothes once I was back in my own room with a locked door. Grimly, I put on loose, comfortable clothing, and packed a bag with Ella’s original belongings in it. I ignored the expensive, shiny jewelry on the dresser, leaving behind anything that could be traced to Cameron’s money.

I also made a phone call to one of Ella’s father’s old lawyers, who agreed quickly to bring the requested paperwork to the house within the hour.  

And then, packed, dressed and papers ready to go, I sat on the couch with a hot cup of coffee, and I waited for my hero to arrive.

SLAM!

Cameron rushed into the house, his face red with rage. Seeing me sitting calmly he paused, as if confused, but then stepped closer with his fist raised threateningly.

“I’ll make you regret what you did tonight!”

I smiled. “Actually, unless you want my knee in your crotch and my hot coffee in your face, I suggest you sit down and talk to me like a big boy sociopath.”

“…” He didn’t seem able to process my words, but in his shock he sat down on the chair across from me so I counted it as a win.

“Good job!” I applauded briefly. “Now, onto the important stuff.” I tossed the partially signed paperwork onto the table. “Divorce.”

“No.” His voice was an unrecognizable growl. “You’re mine! You are stuck with me. You have to pay for your father’s sins.”

I sighed. “Okay, Mr. Broody McPsychopath, as much as I’ve NOT enjoyed playing house with you, listening to your abuse, and watching your affairs, I’ve got more important things to do.”

“I AM the most important thing to you! You OWE me!”

I tossed another paper onto the table, this one with a photo and an info sheet. “ I heavily disagree with that statement, however, I also would prefer you not stalking me in a pitiful attempt at misguided revenge. So take a look:”

He picked up the paper. “What is…” His eyes widened in shock as he recognized his sister.

“She’s not dead. I saw a picture of her on your desk today, and recognized her as a person I helped out of a car accident several years ago." I made a reason for my sudden knowledge of the plot with ease. "She had amnesia, and settled in a nearby town. The info is written there.”

“You’re lying.”

“No, I know this is foreign, but what I’m doing is called COMMUNICATION. It’s where we talk clearly about things to avoid stupid and painful misunderstandings.” I pointed at him. “First: you forced this marriage to punish my father, under the foolish impression that he arranged for your sister’s death. Two: Your sister is alive and well, and even a cursory investigation into the car accident will help you find the actual people responsible for the accident. And finally…” I pointed my finger at myself. “I only married you to protect my father, and thus with this misunderstanding resolved would like to be free of you.”

“…” He seemed overwhelmed by the concept of not having misunderstandings. I nodded sympathetically and sipped my coffee, giving him time.

“You won’t leave.”

“Pardon?” I asked, confused.

“You can’t resist me. I’ve felt your eyes following me,” He smirked. “Even if I divorce you, you’ll be back and begging for more within a week.”

“Hmmm… Okay. Let’s totally go with that delusion, and have you sign the divorce papers to prove me wrong.”

He reached out, now overly confident, his pen hovering over the paper. “Are you sure, Princess? This is your last chance to have a claim. After this you’re just like any other woman to me.”

I struggled to keep a straight face. “You mean less to me than the house plant that I killed, and that was made of plastic. I think I’ll take my chances.”

He signed the paper, shaking his head with a smug look and a light chuckle. “Here.” He passed it off, trying to brush my fingers with his but I took the papers with kitchen tongs I had brought instead. No accidental physical contact for gross jerks! ”I’ll see you in a few weeks when you come to beg me to take you back.”

“Sounds good, buddy.” I stood up and waved, taking my signed divorce papers happily. “And don’t forget to leave cookies and milk out for Santa while you’re at it. He’s about as likely to visit you as I am!”

I walked out, with a hearty, evil laugh, the sound familiar and comfortable.

And now… I have a villain to find.

_________________________

I found Ella’s car and drove out of the long private drive from Cameron’s mansion. As I traveled, my phone rang. I quickly answered, whistling cheerfully.

“Ella!” My character’s father’s voice rang out, clearly worried. “What happened? I’ve heard all kind of rumors…”

“Oh hi Dad!” I called out cheerfully. “Great timing! I just lost some weight! A whole load of abusive, nasty annoying dead weight.”

“What?”

“I divorced the dirtbag! Aren’t you proud of me?!”

“YOU DIVORCED CAMERON?! It can’t be official, right?!”

“Already uploaded the signed paperwork to our lawyer! Should be submitted any minute now and I’m a free woman.” I thanked my lucky stars for the unrealistic insta-divorce setting in this world, which was great for generating quick drama that a years-long court heavy process wouldn’t.

“GO BACK AND QUICKLY TELL HIM YOU ARE SORRY!” Ella’s father yelled, panicked. “Hurry, he might still take you back!”

“Oh, dad, I’m so sorry…”

“You should be…”

“I didn’t realize you were in the throes of dementia.” I sighed dramatically. “I guess age catches up with us all! Don’t worry Pops, I know a few great nursing homes where the staff are nice, the colors bright and the food soft and easily consumed without teeth.”

“ELLA!”

“It’s okay!” I interrupted, speaking slowly and loudly. “I’ll take good care of you!”

“Stop being ridiculous!”

“I’m not the one talking nonsense, old man." My tone was now serious. "Cameron is a psychopath, abusive, piece of trash. If you had any mental capacity left, you would be absolutely cheering at the news that your daughter was free of him.”

“What about my business?”

“If you can’t run your business without your daughter’s marriage to protect you, then you are better off leaving the business world and moving to the nursing home. And I’m happy to help you do that.” I paused and then added with emphasis. “Anytime. Just try me.”

I then hung up, betting internally on whether or not he would come to his senses.

_________________________

I headed over to a club on the fringe of the city, called “Fortress.” From my character’s memories, I knew I would find the villain there.

A mysterious club owner who rarely showed his face, the club was a front for his secret criminal organization. His group has clashed several times with Cameron’s, leading to a growing feud between the two men. At the end of the first book, close to the end of Ella’s memories, the villain had kidnapped Ella to try to force Cameron into giving up on a business, only to be shot and killed by Cameron in the rescue attempt.

Most likely, Liam had become the club owner/crime boss villain of the story.

I parked in front of the non-de script club, and knocked on the front door.

A very large muscular man opened the door, a deep scowl on his face. “We’re closed.”

“I’m a friend of the owner.”

“Sure you are, lady.” He tried to close the door, and I shoved my shoe in the way, glad I wore boots.

“Trust me, if you call him, he will definitely want to see me. Just tell him Bel is looking for him.”

With much more convincing, I finally managed to enter the club. TO my dismay, Liam wasn’t there. I sat awkwardly on the couch in the VIP lounge, snacking on peanuts, waiting patiently.

I could here the men in the background arguing.

“How could you bring her here?”

“She says she knows the Boss!”

“I thought the Boss hated women.”

“The Boss hates everyone.”

“True… should I get rid of her? I already called him!”

“I think…”

The door slammed open, and a panting disheveled man in a suit came tumbling in. In one hand he held a large baseball bat, the other clutching a cell phone. I studied the man carefully, taking note of his dark hair, a face covered in scars, including a long diagonal slice across one eye. His eyes however, were a familiar blue.

I jumped up, and threw myself into the man’s arms. “Liam!”

_________________________

After Liam calmed down, we found a quiet place to talk.

“Are you okay?” Liam asked, quietly clutching my hands in his.

“I’m fine.”

He let out a sigh of relief. “I was so worried! When I got here, I saw the story… saw what was going to happen to you at the party… and I rushed over.”

I thought of the baseball bat he was carrying. “What were you planning to do when you got there?”

“Education.” Was his firm answer.

I couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“But when I got there, it was just a bunch of crowds of gossiping people, and a really loud woman who kept screaming about how she was going to kill someone. That’s when I got the call you were here.” His hands squeezed my own. “I’m so relieved you are okay!”

I explained to him my actions so far, which caused him to laugh and congratulate me on my quick divorce.

I added, “Fortunately, I didn’t feel Adonis’s presence in this world.”

“Yeah, he’s been less frequent about coming into the lower realms since pushing you into my realm.”

I thought about that. “Wait, so are you in every lower realm I’ve visited?”

“I don’t know for sure." Liam shrugged. "I get set to a different realm every night.  Sometime Adonis is there, sometimes both of you, plenty of times it’s just been me.”

I had a strange realization as I thought back to the last world I had gone to, the two kingdoms realm. Remembering the familiar feeling I had gotten from the kingdom-destroying beast... “Liam… you wouldn’t happened to have been a large monster before, would you?”

“WHAT?! I have no idea what you are talking about!” He turned pale and panicked at the question, avoiding eye contact.

“Really? In the lower realm where I was the princess? Didn’t you help me take over the world?”

Liam grabbed his chest and let out a sigh of relief, “Oh THAT’s what you meant!” He nodded. “Yes that was me.”

“…” I once again knew I was missing something, but felt too awkward to keep pushing. Instead, I explained to him the mission given to me, to have a happy ending.

Liam offered to hand over all of his underground criminal organization resources to my disposal. “What do you want to do?”

The question caught me off guard. I'm still not used to having someone ask me what I wanted to do, instead of trying to force me to follow a plan or some predetermined fate.

I smiled at him. “I think the best revenge for a woman who was humiliated by her ex-husband to get revenge on her father, and who was sacrificed by said father to save his own business… is to become more rich and powerful than both of them.”

"Sounds good." Liam nodded. "Let's go to work!"

And so, we got to work.

_________________________

I had lived in more than enough lower realms that centered around business, and was fairly comfortable with how to build a company up, (especially in the cheat worlds of romance novels where rich, handsome men who somehow spend zero time on their company abound). With Liam donating some starting capital, I was able to grow a business over the next year that became the talk of the town. Soon I pushed my father’s business into a corner, and began a forced acquisition. His horrified and bewildered expression once he realized it was me in charge of the mysterious rival company, gave me a nice warm feeling inside and prompted another villainous laugh.  

As for Cameron…

He had reunited with his sister, and through the magical medical treatment available in the novel, gotten her memories back. He had tried to contact me twice that I knew of. Once after finding her, and another a week later. I blocked his number and ignored all other attempts. Taking advantage of his distraction, I snatched up a large portion of the big deals from his company, using the memories of Ella and the previous story of this world to be able to pinpoint which ones to target.

I was quickly becoming the richest person in the world, and my mission progress bar was slowly up-trending.

In between becoming a rival CEO to destroy my father and the male lead, I spent the rest of my free time with Liam. It became the norm for us to spend time together every day. We always found time for something, whether it was eating a meal, going for a walk, watching a movie, or just sitting next to each other while we dealt with the paperwork of our respective business empires. We told jokes and laughed, plotted and schemed against the male lead and my insufferably self-righteous father, and overall continued the comfortable existence that we had lived in the woods of Liam’s realm.

One night, we both fell asleep on the couch at “Fortress,” me holding a laptop, him clutching a remote and a bowl of popcorn. The next morning, I woke up and looked over to see his scarred, strange but still familiar face. I had a sudden urge to reach out and touch him. If I had woken up in this world, and the man I had been married to was Liam instead of Cameron… I would have been happy to just stay married.

The realization of that thought hit me hard, and I stood up, confused.

Do I have feelings for Liam?

He was a strange person, much like me. A mysterious existence with too many secrets. One I knew very little about. But he was also kind, gentle and caring person. Someone who I wanted to protect with everything I have, and who I trusted to protect my back no matter what.

Liam woke up, seeing my staring. “What are you looking at. Do I have something on my face?”

“…” I hesitated unsure of what to say, but after taking a deep breath, blurted out:  “Liam… let’s get married!” I looked away, filled with horror once I realized what I had just said, but at the same time, felt no desire to take it back. Why not? What better happy ending for Ella on top of being rich and powerful than being in a nice healthy relationship with someone wonderful?

“…” The silence stretched on. I finally worked up the nerve to look over to Liam only to see wide eyes filled with shock, and a bright red face.

“Bel…” He finally said with an embarrassed look. “Before I give you an answer, I need to tell you something: We talked about your mission in this world, to save and stabilize it… but you never asked about  what MY mission was.”

“You have a mission too?” I asked, distracted and mildly confused as to why this was relevant to my sudden marriage proposal. “What is it?”

“It’s…”

Before he could answer, a man burst into the room. Behind him in the club, the sounds of fighting and shouting could be heard. The man stood before us with a vicious grin, holding out an outstretched arm.

He was holding a gun.

“Cameron what on earth do you think you are doing?!” I shouted, standing up. Liam got up next to me, his hand grabbing mine.

The look in Cameron’s eyes was feral. “I’m saving my wife from this villain!” He snarled, pointing the gun at Liam.

I stepped in front of Liam. “First of all, that’s ex wife to you! Second of all, why would I need saving from Liam?”

“He kidnapped you! I know everything, Ella! He built up a rival corporation to compete with me and your father…”

“No that was me…”

“He even forcibly acquired your father’s company!”

“Still me…”

Cameron kept talking, as if he hadn’t heard me. “And I know that he’s been preventing you from contacting me, or answering my phone calls.”

“No… I blocked you. And I didn’t want to see you.”

“It’s okay!” He smiled at me, but the expression sent chills up my spine. “I’m going to make things right, by getting rid of this snake first.”

I held my arms out. “You’ll have to go through me.”

“Bel.” Liam whispered.

“What is it Liam? I’m kind of busy.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“For what…?” I broke off into a horrified gasp as he stepped around me, distancing himself and moving into a clear line of site from Cameron.

BANG!

Liam fell to the floor.

I saw red.

Grabbing the baseball bat, I swung it as hard as I could at the man’s offending hand.

CRACK!

I felt his wrist break from the blow. He let out a scream of pain, looking up at me with a confused expression. “Why are you doing this, Ella? I’m saving you! I love you!”

I glared at him,  kicked his gun away, and swung the bat again, hitting his chest. He fell to the floor with a grunt.

“Love? You call your madness and selfishness love?”

Crack! I broke his other arm.

“No, you’re just a petulant child, whose mad because he thinks that other kids might play with his toy.” I smiled coldly. “Well guess what?”

I kicked his chest, knocking him onto his back. “I’m not your toy. And just like you don’t really love me, I don’t love you.” I put my foot in “crotch stomping” position.

“And I’ll make you pay for killing the man I lo…”

“Bel!” Liam’s weak voice called out, interrupting my rant. I dropped my bat, causing it to hit Cameron’s face as he let out another groan of pain and rushed to Liam’s side.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

He nodded, showing the clear wound on the muscle of his shoulder. Just a few inches to the left and the bullet would have… I shook my head, and hugged him, trying to avoid the injured arm.

“Why would you step out like that?”

“I tried to tell you... my mission.” He held up a cell phone, and to my surprise, I saw an interface very similar to mine.

100% complete.

**** You have finished the mission! ****

I stared at the words. “Your mission was to get shot?”

His smile was faint and bitter. “That’s the villain’s job. To create conflict and then to get defeated. My ending was liked by the readers. They didn’t want it to change.”

“Is every world like this?” I was horrified.

“Pretty much.” His expression became happier. “But on the bright side, since I’ve been shot, but didn’t die, I can answer your question!” He blushed, but pushed forward with a whisper. “Yes.”

“Yes?” I was confused, and then realized what he was saying, and coughed, trying to cover up my embarrassment. “Well then, I guess we have a wedding to plan.”

“Bel?”

A strange voice called out. I looked over to the bruised and beaten Cameron, who was staring at me with an incredulous look… and with contained rage.

I knew that look.

“Adonis.” I said quietly, positioning myself in front of Liam to protect him. "Welcome to the party."

“Why are you here? Did you get dragged through the villain’s portal?” He shook his head. “Even if you try to escape, you can’t. I’m your only salvation. Only the hero can save the princess from the monster.”

“I think you and I have very different definitions of the word ‘monster’.” My phone chirped and I looked down to see a notification that the latest deal had gone through, officially making me the richest and most powerful person in this small world. Between that, and an upcoming happy wedding… I waited a moment, and sure enough:

100% complete.

**** You have finished the mission! ****

My mission was complete as well.

Adonis try to scramble to his feet. “Wait, Bel, what have you done?”

“Fixed the world again. Without you. The usual.” I tilted my head, staring at him with a cold smile. “Don’t try to come after me again, Adonis. You won’t like what will happen to you.”

“Bel!”

The portal opened, swallowing Liam and I both.

“BEL! I AM COMING FOR YOU!”

I waved cheerfully, and Liam flipped him off as we disappeared.

“YOU HEAR ME?! I AM COMING FOR YOU!”

We were back in the villain’s realm. Immediately I felt tired, as the drain of the world set back in. I leaned against Liam shoulder, which was fortunately no longer injured and gave him a grin.

“So… when’s the wedding?

*** Soul transfer 59% complete. ***

Liam stared at me, shocked. But before he could answer, he stopped in his tracks, and seemed to sense something. “As much as I would love nothing more than to talk about this, Bel, we’ll have to save it for another time.”

“What’s going on?”

His serious gaze met my own. “Adonis is here.”

[goodqueenaly]

I’ve never come up with an entirely perfect working theory on Coldhands, but the one I lean toward most is that Coldhands is - somehow - an “ordinary” wight (to the extent the word can be used) whom Bloodraven has skinchanged into, effectively taking over from the Others' control of him, and is using as his agent, so to speak, outside the cave of the children of the forest. Whether or not this sort of skinchanging is even possible, I have no idea - but I gravitate toward this idea because I could see Bloodraven using, and justifying the use of, such a being to achieve his ends. As a wight, Coldhands would presumably raise no suspicions among other wights, and perhaps not the Others either - a useful cover for one who had to travel across many hostile miles between the Wall and the cave (and indeed, when Coldhands shows up to save Sam and Gilly, there doesn't seem to be any indication that the wights are going to attack him). Supernatural agents serving as his spies or as part of his spy network is of course nothing new for Bloodraven, given his actions in his political life: even if the stories Dunk remembers that Bloodraven “could change his face, put on the likeness of a one-eyed dog, even turn into a mist” and command “gaunt gray wolves [to hunt] down his foes” and “carrion crows [to spy] for him and [whisper] secrets in his ear” were not all completely true (though some, I think, undoubtedly were), Bloodraven was certainly willing to use a glamour to disguise himself as a hedge knight at the tourney at Whitewalls. From fabricating an identity, and face, to garb himself as another person, Bloodraven has, perhaps, progressed to taking over another person (or at least, their body) entirely, projecting himself into the world as he no longer physically can. 

More to the point, I like the way that Coldhands as a skinchanged wight controlled by Bloodraven might in a way represent Bloodraven himself (beyond merely serving as his agent). Like Bloodraven, Coldhands is a Night’s Watch ranger, both complete with tattered old blacks that once reflected their Night's Watch membership, seemingly dead “long ago” but in fact alive (or as much as either can be deemed alive, anyway). Coldhands is, like Bloodraven, a figure both sustained and bound by supernatural power. As Bloodraven has “lived beyond his mortal span” thanks to the weirwoods’ magic, so Coldhands, though killed long before his encounters with Sam and Bran, walks and talks like a living being; however, just as Brynden is fated sooner rather than later to “[go] into the trees” completely, to remain permanently in the cave and join that lineage of greenseers on their weirwood seats, so Coldhands is restricted to the wilds beyond the Wall, permitted neither to cross the Wall’s boundaries nor to enter the children’s warded cave. Coldhands no more hesitates to serve Bran, the Reeds, and Hodor the physical flesh of Night’s Watch deserters, despite the horror of cannibalism, than Bloodraven hesitated to serve Daeron II and Aegon V, metaphorically, the flesh of Daemon Blackfyre and his sons and Aenys Blackfyre, respectively, despite the proscriptions against kinslaying and violating guest right (albeit perhaps with some personal qualms for Bloodraven to the former). In the sort of amusing twist Bloodraven himself might appreciate, the man who once spoke with the king’s voice as Hand now perhaps almost literally has another speak with his voice while he himself sits on a mystical throne. Too, as Bloodraven had once appeared to Dunk looking like “a living corpse” as the former rode through King’s Landing, so now a real living corpse, just as pale, would represent Bloodraven as he rode across the lands beyond the Wall. 

What I like about this idea as well is the way in which it adds to the nuance and ethical questions surrounding Bloodraven and the magic he uses. To be clear, I think Bloodraven does care about saving the world: the literally superhuman effort put in to shepherding Bran to becoming his greenseer successor is I believe indicative of this aim. Nevertheless, by skinchanging into a raised wight, Bloodraven may be approaching something close to the rather more nefarious magic employed by the Others; if the very evil of the Others is in their enslaving the reanimated dead for the purposes of destruction, how moral or immoral is Bloodraven’s similar use of a wight, albeit for ultimately positive (or intended to be positive) ends? This potential willingness to take over a human body through magical means, with all the accompanying implications for and discussions on the morality of the actor in question, echoes not only in Varamyr’s disturbing Prologue (with his attempts to seize Thistle) but even in the otherwise very sympathetic Bran and his forcible takeover of Hodor, especially in non-survival or unintentional situations. Obviously, I do not think Bran is malicious or evil, much less on the level of monstrous Varamyr, but I do think the author wants readers to recognize the horror implicit here - through the Others, through these circumstances with Bran, and through, perhaps, Bloodraven’s control of Coldhands (hence the chilling self-identification of Coldhands as “your monster, Brandon Stark). 

[sp0o0kylights]

[gasps] number 10 you had me at steddissy!!

Fun Facts about Patchworks, it and Chokechain where the two fics I was like "I'm not gonna post these until theyre complete theyre so close!!" and then posted parts of anyway lmao. Patchworks ended up needing a bit more than Chokechain did to finish it out but she's close.

This one also hasn't gotten The Red Pen of death Editing yet.

Snippet:

"I can't fucking belive this." Robin hisses, and Steve just sighs. 

"How are you still mad?"

"How!? How could I be mad that after struggling with my sexuality; fighting it with tears and--and constant doubt for years, you just threw up once and that was it!"

She drops her voice as deep as it'll go, mocking Steve's own. "Guess I'm queer now, let me get my coffee." 

"That's a horrible impression of me."

"Accurate you mean." Robin mutters darkly. "For the record I don't think you're fine by the way, I think you're repressing it." 

"I'm not repressing anything Robin, I told you I'm comfortable liking both." 

"Not the queerness, dingus, the reaction to the queerness!" 

"I think you're just mad I'm better at being gay than you." 

Robin gapes, mouth swimming through the movements without a sound. 

Oh, he's really pissed her off, and Steve delights in that too, in a way only siblings and soulmates can. 

"Better than me!?" She finally sputters, and Steve settles his hip against the counter, hands crossing smugly over his chest.

"Yes." 

"You--you!" Robin's shaking a finger at him, and if steam could have come from her ears they would have. 

Steve doesn't fight his grin.

"Talking," she says finally, slamming a stack of VHS's on the counter opposite him, and God is he thankful that Family Video is dead for this conversation, "is one thing. Let's see you actually back it up, hotshot.” 

"By what? Hanging out with Munson?" Steve challenges back.

"Yes." Robin spits immediately. "We've all seen how you flirt. I want to see you put all those terrible flirting skills that we know don't work outside of high-school to the test!" 

"I told you Robin, I was bombing on purpose at Scoops." He warns, as he warms up to the challenge.

Hanging out with Eddie will be easy. 

Sprinkling a little light flirting on top?

A total cakewalk. 

"I don't believe you." Robin says with narrowed eyes. 

"Just watch." Steve tells her smugly.

The nice thing about it all? 

Steve barely has to wait a few hours before he can prove himself right.

Eddie trots in as if the universe had given him his cue, coming up to the counter with one of his wilder grins.

"Minion!" He crows, and Steve rolls his eyes in response. 

"Munson." He greets back, but makes sure to lean across the counter, curling his body towards Eddie. 

Predictably, Eddie gets right up in his face. 

"How goes the droll and drab life of retail?" 

"Not terrible." Steve catches Robin's eye, and has to suppress any hint of smugness. 

'Celebrate after you make the play!' Steve thinks in his coach's voice, and he settle himself in for the game. 

"Say Eds," he says, and watches the way the nickname grabs the older teens attention, "you still selling weed?" 

"Not to your freshman, I do keep my promises." A palm goes over Eddie's heart, face full of roughish charm.

Hook.

"Nah I was thinking for myself. My parents are home for the month and they're driving me up a tree."

A truth, though given they were close to their next departure their attention was off Steve and onto more important things. 

Like getting into the right hair salon, or making sure they rubbed shoulders with this or that person. 

"Think we could smoke at your place?" Steve dips even closer into Eddie's space, delights at how wide those doe eyes of his can grow. "I'm happy to pay." 

Line.

"Sure, absolutely, uh, man." Eddie says, and Steve doesn't hold back the grin as he watches him fumble. 

"Thanks." He beams, before reaching out to pretend to brush something off of Eddie's jacket. "You're a lifesaver." 

"Sure am!" Eddie outright squeaks, and over his shoulder Steve can see Robin gawk at the two of them.

"Certified life guard Eddie, that's me!" 

"Oh," Steve grins. "Certified. You'll have to show me how to do CPR sometime." 

"Yeah, Eddie says, before abruptly wrenching himself out of Steve's space, face fire engine red. "I can show you when we uh, hang out. To smoke. What uh, day do you...?" 

His voice goes higher in question, and Steve gives him his best slow 'I'm charmed' smile. 

"Tonight? After work?”

"Tonight!" Eddie says, before he starts dancing back, waving finger guns at Steve. "My place! Be there or be square!" 

"Well I'd hate to be square." Steve replies, giving a lazy wave as Eddie crashes backwards into the door, spins around with a curse and half falls, half tumbles his way out. 

Sinker.

Steve turns a victorious look on Robin.

"He didn't even rent a movie." He preens, while Robin tracks the absolute disaster that is Eddie trying to drive his van away. 

"Oh my God." She says, wide eyes meeting his too smug ones. "I'd say that was smooth but that was the farthest thing from it." 

"Hey, I was smooth. We're only judging me, not my dance partners." He counters. 

"Oh? Certified?" Robin mocks him once again, clenching her hands under his chin before dropping them in disgust. "I can't believe that worked, everyone knows you were a lifeguard for years!" 

"I'm just that charming." 

"More like Eddie's that far gone." She says with a dismissive snort. "He has it bad for you.” 

"I dunno," Steve drawls, resting his chin on the back of his hand. "You're just as bad the second you think a girls flirting with you." 

The offended gasp Robin lets out has Steve cackling immediately. 

"You take that back!" She howls, winging a wet rag at him. 

Steve jumps back, still laughing. 

"Steven Harrington you take that back!" 

"I promised not to tell lies Rob," He gasps, as she whips the towel at him again. 

He reaches out a hand, catching the towel easily. “I can’t take it back!” 

Robin shrieks, and soon enough they're both laughing and wrestling over the towel, all thoughts of the weird dance Steve, Eddie and Chrissy were doing, forgotten.

[nefariousghoul]

Mushy May Day 4- Wound Tending/First Aid

pairings: raindrop

word count: 1456

summary: rain is still fairly new to the ministry and feels constantly criticized by dew. after another mess up in rehearsals, dew gets upset. rain runs off to the lake, where dew unexpectedly approaches him.

content warnings: fluff w some angst. brief mentions of injuries/bleeding, brief mention of yelling, rain cries a little bit

thanks to @forlorn-crows for the prompts and @ghuleh-recs for the dividers!!

It’s a brisk autumn night at the ministry. The skies were full of stars and a few stray clouds. A gentle breeze drifts through, the water moving softly with it.

Rain had just been summoned a few months prior. He was still settling into life at the ministry. His room was still bare. Aside from the basic furniture it came with, all he had in there was his bass and a few rocks he’d collected from the lake. Rehearsals started becoming more frequent with the tour coming up, and they began to run longer.

Rain always blamed himself for rehearsals running much later than usual. He just couldn’t get the songs down. He wasn’t as confident as Swiss or Dew on stage. He’d fumble the notes during the same part of Miasma every time, and he would lose tempo, causing the whole band to stop playing.

Dew had become fed up with Rain’s mistakes, causing him to act out briefly. Yelling at Rain, asking him why he couldn’t get the rhythm down and if he was dumb, until he stormed off, leaving the rest of the ghouls on stage in a stunned silence. Rain's eyes began to burn as he quickly and quietly put his bass back in its case before leaving the room.

He didn’t understand why Dew was so upset with him all the time. Rain had only ever been kind. The rest of the pack had taken a liking to rain, all except dewdrop. No matter what Rain did Dew always seemed to be mad at him for it. He couldn’t figure out what he’d done wrong, and it frustrated him beyond belief.

That’s where he found himself now. He ran and ran through the forest behind the ministry, falling a few times as he tripped on a few stray branches, until he reached the lake. He approached slowly, his chest heaving. He walked until he reached the edge of the dock, sitting down and letting his feet rest in the water.

He kept his gaze down, watching the water ripple as his feet swayed beneath it. He took in a deep breath as he focused on the water. Being in his element helped him calm down and made him feel whole. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, staring, before the tears started to fall. He brought a hand up to wipe them away when a voice startled him from behind, causing him to jump slightly before turning to see who it was.

“Are you okay?” Dew said. his hands fidgeting with the loose threads of his shirt as he tried to meet Rain’s gaze, failing miserably.

Rain quickly wiped the tears from his face, his brows furrowing as he realized it was dewdrop that had approached him. His heartbeat quickened as he felt anxiety begin to course through him. Why was dew here? Was he going to just get mad at me again? He thought to himself. He searched Dew's face and only found concern and maybe guilt..?

He cleared his throat slightly. “Uh, yeah, I’m fine,” Rain said, giving Dew a small grin.

It was now Dew’s turn to look confused as he gave Rain a once-over, seeing that his knees were bleeding. It appeared that they had been scraped at some point.

Dew sighed. “Rain. You’re literally bleeding. You are not okay.” he said, pointing to the water ghoul’s knees.

Rain quickly followed his finger to see what he’d been pointing at, and he saw that he had in fact been bleeding. His jaw dropped slightly as he realized it must’ve happened when he was running through the trees. He looked back up at Dew.

“Oh, yeah, I guess I am.” he let out a nervous chuckle.

“I’m okay though, Dew. You don’t have to worry about me.” He gave Dew a (what he thought was) convincing smile, but Dew saw right through it.

Dew rolled his eyes before reaching his hand out to rain; his face stayed unchanged from the slightly annoyed look he always wore. Rain looked up at him with furrowed brows. His palms began to grow sweaty as he tried to figure out why Dew had come to check on him. He hadn’t shown Rain an ounce of kindness since he was summoned.

“What?” Rain stuttered out, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes searched Dew’s looking for some kind of hate behind them, only to find a soft hint of genuine concern.

“C’mon. Gotta get ya back to the den.” Dew muttered. His tone was the same ornery one as always. “It’s getting late. i-“ he stuttered. “They’re worried about you, waterlily.” Dew’s cheeks flushed softly as he realized his little slip-up. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, missing the gentle tug at Rain's lips.

Rain's gaze fell to his lap once more as his cheeks flushed a light purple color. He met Dew’s gaze once more, moving his hand to grab Dew's own.

Dew's eyes shot open when Rain’s hand grabbed his. the cool temperature of the water ghoul’s hand against his own making his stomach flutter. He gently tugged on Rain's arm, helping him stand before letting go, already missing his cool touch. Dew’s gaze fell to the floor as Rain slightly towered over him due to his height.

They both began making the short walk back to the ministry in an awkward but comfortable silence. The pair both stole shy glances at each other while the other looked away.

As they approached the door leading to the ghoul den, Dewdrop opened the door, bowing dramatically as Rain let out a giggle at the gesture. Dew quietly shut the door leading rain into the room. His cheeks still had a slight blush to them since his slip-up.

Dew opened the door to his room, letting rain enter first. Rain paused as he entered, taking in the contents of Dew’s room. It was cleaner than he expected and very organized. There were a few band posters here and there, a mess of music sheets piled along the desk, and his bed was made.

Dew paused, turning to face rain.

“You alright, rainy?” His blush deepened as he saw rain looking around his room.

Rain met his gaze, blushing slightly. “Oh, yeah sorry. I like your room.” he said sheepishly, walking towards him. Dew gave him a curt nod as a shy grin made its way onto his face before continuing to walk towards the attached bathroom.

“Thanks, Rain.”

They entered the small but spacious bathroom. To the left, there was a large shower. Next to it was the toilet, along with some rugs littered across the floor. To the right was a small vanity, which Dew was hastily tidying up. Rain smiled to himself as dew seemed to be becoming flustered.

After Dew had cleaned the vanity off, which had been pretty clean before, besides a few hair products left out, he turned to face rain tapping the countertop.

“hop up here. gotta clean up those scrapes.”

Rain blushed, ducking his head slightly as he hopped up on the counter. He let his feet dangle as he glanced over to Dew, who had placed a first aid kit on the counter.

Dew crouched down and faintly grabbed Rain’s leg, inspecting the wound. Rain flinched slightly as dew got a little too close to it.

“Sorry,” Dew muttered.

“It’s okay.” Rain whispered back, not meeting his eyes.

Dew grabbed the first aid kit, opening it to grab a few bandages and some alcohol pads. He looked up Rain.

“Alright, it doesn’t look like you’re gonna need stitches, so that’s good.” He patted rain’s calf softly.

“I do need to clean these up though. It might sting, just don’t bite me, alright?” He said it with a slight smile.

Rain let out a chuckle before nodding. Dew began cleaning the scrapes along Rain’s knees. Rain let out a quiet hiss as the alcohol burned against his skin.

“Almost done.”

He placed bandages over them before standing up. Rain had a shy smile on his face as he kept his gaze on the floor.

“All done, Rainy,” he said, putting the first aid kit back in the cabinet below.

“Thank you, Dew,” Rain said, glancing down at him.

“For what?” Dew said, standing up.

“For helping me and for coming to check on me.”

Dew’s blush returned as he avoided Rain’s gaze. He let out a nervous laugh, toying with the edge of his shirt.

“No problem, just don’t tell anyone, or I’ll have to kill you,” he said jokingly, as his expression fell flat.

Rain let out another chuckle as his smile widened and his eyes twinkled.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Dewy.”

[nethhiri]

Siren Charms: Chapter 20

Zoro x Siren!Reader

Warnings: sexual situations

Premature

Nami and Robin were both reading in the shade. Nami had a fashion magazine, while Robin had some kind of dusty, crusty, old text. Nami's eyes wandered up to see the swordsman walking across the deck, stretching and yawning. A sinister plot hatched in her mind. 

"Hey, Zoro. Go wash up. You stink."

Zoro frowned at the ginger, but huffed some words of agreement and plodded off towards the shared washroom. 

Robin raised a brow at Nami, knowing that you were still in there. 

Nami had a smug grin on her face. "What? I just want to see what happens. As a woman of science, you should understand."

"While I don't condone it, I am interested in your results." A smirk graced Robin's lips. 

"I'm tired of watching them pine after each other and cover it up, poorly I might add, with bickering."

Robin 'tsked'. "You're disrupting the natural order." 

Everyone on the ship, especially Nami and Robin, had noticed the subtle changes occurring between the two of you. Where at first you tried to be on opposite ends of the ship, and made no effort to be social with each other, it evolved into Zoro's napping spots progressively moving closer to yours, until he rested in the shade of the tree's you preferred to sleep in. The crew noticed that you tended to head to the crow's nest to work out at the tail end of Zoro's workouts. Your seats at the table somehow ended up right across from each other and on more than one occasion, Nami had caught one of you staring at the other. Whenever the two of you caught the gaze of the other, out of embarrassment, you started a fight to deflect from the fact. There were many such other instances where you were both hopelessly terrible at hiding. When Nami confronted Zoro about it, his excuse was that he was simply keeping an eye on you in case you tried anything. Upon Robin's questioning, you claimed that he smelled tasty, which wasn't a lie. 

"I'm only speeding up the process." Nami shrugged. "Either there will be a lot of shouting or they won't be out for a while."

Robin hummed. "It could also be both or neither."

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

Zoro's hands were big enough to grab most of your ass as you sat in his lap. His palms kneaded at the supple, soft flesh, greedily pulling you against him until your stomach was flush with his twitching erection. You grabbed the sides of his head and pulled him down for a kiss, sliding one of your hands to grip the back of his neck while the other dropped to feel the sinewy muscle under the tanned skin of his chest. He froze under you, unsure what to do. With slow, deliberate motions, you alternated between kissing his top and bottom lip until he understood and reciprocated, moving his mouth against yours. Very lightly, you bit his lip, careful not to break the skin with your teeth. He groaned into your mouth. Taking your lead, his hands started to wander, drifting from your ass to your hips, gripping them in place to grind his erection against you. 

"That's it," you murmured against his lips. "Does it feel good?" 

Zoro made a grunt of affirmation as he continued, moving faster. Even through the water, there was a slight stickiness that clung to your skin where his cock slid. You bit your lip thinking about how much pre-cum was leaking out of his tip. Zoro's hand was on your breast, kneading it in the same way he was grabbing your ass earlier. His eyes flicked from it to you before bending to take it in his mouth. He gave your nipple some experimental licks, sucking against the skin and grazing it with his teeth, managing to pull a squeak from you. The small indication that he was making you feel good, too, gave him some confidence. He continued to kiss and suck and nip at your breasts, though it was making him moan more than you. That was ok by you. It was endearing to watch him explore your body, and it was downright hot that he was trying to make you feel good while rutting against you with such desperation. 

You reclaimed his mouth with yours, running your tongue along his lip. He didn't get the hint. You bit his lip again, a bit harder than the last time, drawing a moan from Zoro. You took the opportunity to press your tongue into his mouth. It took him a minute but he was eagerly kissing you back, moving his tongue against yours. You gave his hips a rest and moved up and down at a languid pace, pressing your center against him, letting his cock drag between your lips. This pulled a string of groans from him, each more wanton than the last. You moaned every time the head of his cock pressed briefly into your clit, speeding up your rhythm. Your intent was to take it slow with making out so Zoro could get his bearings before moving on to the main event. 

Zoro grabbed your hips and placed your entrance over his hardness. He broke the kiss and with panting breaths asked, "Can I?"

His gray pleading eyes were so cute. You chuckled and ran your fingertips up his shaft, about to reply when he shuddered under you. You felt his dick jump against your hand.

"N-no. No. Fuck. No." Zoro's grip tightened on your hips and his eyes squeezed shut. 

A cocky smile planted itself on your face and you wrapped your hand around his cock to help him finish. "It's ok, baby. Let it all out."

He bucked into your hand, cursing. When you felt the last twitch, he laid his head back on the edge of the tub and covered his face with his hands, lamenting his early release. 

You pulled his hands away from his face and planted a soft kiss on his lips. 

"I'm s-sorry." A blush spread across his cheeks and he couldn't meet your eyes. 

"Why? It happens."

"Because I wanted to make you feel good."

"Just because I didn't cum doesn't mean I didn't enjoy it. Plus, it was your first try. You just need practice," You smirked.

Next

Tag List: @chershire23 @zoast32 @bbnbhm

[riveroftales]

ღ¸.✻´𝚃𝚘 𝚊 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚈𝚘𝚞`✻.¸¸ღ

ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ɴᴇᴜᴛʀᴀʟ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴠᴇʀʏ sʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴍᴜɪᴄʜɪʀᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ sǫᴜɪɴᴛ

“Muichiro!” You waved to catch your best friend’s attention, running towards him.

“Oh! Y/n!” Muichiro waved back, smiling brightly.

Yuichiro huffed in slight annoyance as he gently bounced himself once to further secure the logs he was carrying on his back.

“I just found a pile of huuuge rocks! They’re perfect for a hot stone bath!”

“Hey! While you two chit-chat and waste your own time, I’m going back home!” Yuichiro turned around with his signature scowl on his face as he walked off.

“Yui-!” Muichiro sighed, seeing his twin walk away before abruptly turning towards you. “Please don’t hate him! He’s naturally like that..”

“Don’t worry about it!” You beamed, taking your best friend’s hand. “Come on! I’ll show you where the big rocks are!”

Muichiro’s eyes lit up. “Mhm! I can ask my parents to set up a big hot stone bath for us!”

Both of you bursted out into laughter as you pulled him into the forest.

Where did the time go?

“Muichiro.” You smiled softly, waving at him.

He stopped in his tracks and slowly turned to face you. The light which once was present in his eyes had turned dull and his expression was indifferent.

“Please don’t use my first name. We are not that close. Also, do I know you?”

Your heart broke a bit. You tried to accept the fact that he had amnesia and tried to get closer to him, but ever since he lost his memories, he never looked at your direction. He was always doing origami, spaced out, or with his own group of friends.

Am I even still his friend?

“Sorry, Tokito.. I was just-”

“I’m not interested in taking tsugokus.” He dismissed while he turned around, dismissively waving his hand as if to shoo you away.

“What? No, that’s not what I’m-”

“You’re annoying. Please quiet down.”

You wished you could smile and think he inherited his late twin’s personality, but you just couldn’t. You knew that Yuichiro, despite being more abrasive, meant well. He was harsh because he cared.

Muichiro, on the other hand, was worse. The bright-eyed kid with a bubbly personality who was once your best friend seemed to have died with his twin that night.

“I don’t want to be your tsugoku.” You stood firmly. “I’m a hashira like you. I slayed a lower moon by myself. Surely you remember the master introducing me during our last meeting.”

Muichiro slowly turned and gave you a soft yet cold stare.

“Oh.. right. L/n, was it?”

“Yeah!”

“Okay.”

Without another word, he turned and walked away.

You two were just kids, yet he managed to break your heart 2 times.

The first was when you found him horrifyingly injured with a strange woman (who you later learned was Lady Amane) with her two children tending to Muichiro who held his dead twin’s hand like no tomorrow.

The second was during the hashira meeting. Just like him, you also managed to rise to the top just a few months after picking up a sword, but he didn’t know you. In fact, he treated you a little colder than the rest.

You watched him walk away as your own feet turned around and carried you out with a mind of their own.

“Caw! Emergency! Emergency meeting at the demon slayer headquarters!” Your crow yelled as it flew above your head. “Quick! Emergency!”

You panted heavily as you ran as fast as you could, clutching your sword tightly as beads of sweat rolled down your face. The agonisingly hot sun wasn’t helping at all, but you ignored it.

Your feet carried you as fast as you could before you finally made it at the gate. No one else was there.

“Huh..?”

Am I early? You wondered, looking around. The master wasn’t out and you couldn’t find any of your colleagues. Everything was dead silent.

“Caw! Inside! Inside!” Your bird echoed, landing on a tree branch and nipping at its own wing.

You swallowed hard, hesitating for a moment. You’ve never entered the master’s house before.

Is it normal for the hashiras? No! I can’t think that way! It’s an emergency.. I have to.. everyone’s probably inside… already…

You slowly slide the front door open and take off your shoes before quietly entering.

“Please forgive me for intruding.” You call out softly, getting no response.

You slowly make your way down the halls which only got darker the deeper you went. Finally, you stumbled upon an open door to your side.

“Hello..?”

The room was pitch black, before you heard a familiar voice do a quiet countdown.

“SURPRISE!”

The curtains drew open, letting the sunlight in as confetti popped from all angles towards you. Your eyes widened.

A huge banner was up and all the hashiras were wearing party hats.

Mitsuri was throwing the confetti while Uzui and Rengoku were the ones who drew the curtains open.

Everyone was clapping and cheering for you.

“Happy birthday, Y!n!” Rengoku beamed with his signature smile.

“You guys..” you managed to return a small smile. “How’d you know..?”

“The real question is why didn’t you tell us?!” Uzui countered. “Just cause you’re the newest hashira doesn’t mean that you get treated differently!”

“And plus, Tokito told us!” Mitsuri set down the basket which was now empty from all the confetti being thrown.

“Tokito.. what?” Your eyes widened.

“Yeah. That kid murmured it yesterday in front of Kocho, who brought it up to Uzui and made a huge deal about it.” Sanemi scowled.

For a brief moment, your heart fluttered.

He remembered.

A smile formed on your face.

“Thank you all.”

“I suggest we cut the cake. The room is a little humid and the icing might melt.. Namu.” Himejima said.

Within the next second, you were being playfully pushed towards a huge table filled with sweets and meals with a birthday cake in the middle.

Muichiro witnessed the whole scene unraveling from the far corner of the room, smiling softly.

Like hell he’d forget your birthday.

[vilevenom]

Woo! I think I managed to work my way through my writers block! I give you, a sequel/second chapter to "Shooting Stars"~ And I'm dedicating it to @ninja-go-to-therapy & @bitterbunny07 for being sweet when I mentioned Clay and Trollex were the only ones I could write yesterday 😘 I hope y'all enjoy some more claylex! It's a touch spicy near the end, so just bear that in mind.

Clay was nervous, which was a not something he was used to feeling. At least, not since he was practically a trolling and he was forced to perform in front of others when BroZone had started to take off. Even when he'd left the troll tree, or when he began to help Viva with running the golf course, he'd only really felt mild trepidation. Not full out, knee knocking nerves like he was experiencing now as he stood on the shore on the lake next to Pop village, waiting for the submarine fish that would bring the techno trolls to the surface. He wasn't the only one waiting, as a visit from the King of the Techno trolls did warrant a small handful of others to be waiting to greet their visitors, including Queen Poppy, but Clay certainly felt like he was alone.

"You gonna make it, Mr. Clay?"

Clay let out a breath, shaking his head a bit as he turned a slightly wobbly smile on Viva, who offered him an understanding smile of her own. "I, uh…probably. After all, this isn't a big deal, right? He's just coming to visit. It's not like we haven't hung out before."

"Well…I mean, this is different, though?" Viva said as she stepped up next to Clay, gently resting her hand on his elbow. "You guys barely knew each other before. Now you're, like, trying to be a couple."

"Are we?" Clay practically wheezed, lifting his hands to wring them together. "I mean, we talked a lot, and we made out and stuff, and he said he didn't want it to be a one time thing, but….does that mean we're a couple? He never said that's what he wanted. And he never really said anything before we left Techno reef."

"Maybe so, but he did say he wanted to see you more, right? That means something. And the fact that he's coming all the way to Pop village just to see you," Viva hummed, shifting to wrap her arms around one of Clays, while resting her head on his shoulder. "Just talk to him, if you're this wound up about it. The worst that can happen is that you know, exactly, what he's looking for in this…thing. With you."

Clay sighed as he tipped his head to rest on top of Viva's, lifting a hand to gently sweep up and down her arm. "Yeah, you're right. I can't keep catastrophizing. I should just pull off the band-aid and get it over with."

"Exactly," Viva hummed, lifting her head as the submarine fish rose from the depths of the lake. It let out a rumbling, groaning sound before it opened its mouth near the shore, revealing a dozen or so techno trolls, with King Trollex grinning like an idiot near the center of them.

"LIVE WIRE!"

Clay heard Trollex's shout from across the beach, lifting his hand in greeting as Trollex gave a cursory greeting to Poppy, before watching as the King bolted over to where he and Viva were stood. "Oh, I am definitely in the way," he heard Viva murmur next to him as she quickly extracted herself from his side. He blinked in confusion and glanced her way, only to grunt in surprise as Trollex scooped him into his arms and spun him around with a whoop.

"I missed you!" Trollex crowed, grinning as he set Clay back on his feet.

"Yeah, me too," Clay said with an apprehensive little laugh, a bit off kilter from being spun. He froze as Trollex's hands came up to cup his face, a surprised squeak escaping him as he was unexpectedly kissed. In front of everyone. His brain short circuited and his hands hovered in the air, not quite sure what to do with himself, even as Trollex pulled away. He glanced around quickly to find Viva giving him an enthusiastic thumbs up, while Poppy giggled behind her hand.

"Oh, sorry. Was I not supposed to-?" Trollex also glanced around, shifting backwards from Clay a bit, only to be stopped by Clay's hand on his wrist.

"No! No. Sorry, that was just, uhm…unexpected," Clay said with an awkward chuckle, suddenly feeling like every troll on the beach was watching them. "The only one who usually greets me so enthusiastically is Viva."

"Viva kisses you frequently in greeting?"

Clay snorted and smacked his hands over his face with a quiet groan. "No, that's not-" he cut himself off and sighed, dragging his hands down over his face. He was more than happy to have the troll in question pop up next to him.

"Hiya! It's so nice to see you again," Viva chirped, pulling Trollex in for a quick hug.

"Yeah, hey! Nice to see you, too," Trollex hummed, though his earlier gusto seemed to have dampened a bit. "Did I…Did I, like, go against some pop troll social rule with the kiss?"

Viva laughed and waved her hands through the air, while Clay groaned again, his shoulders slumping. "Not at all! Mr. Clay here just isn't used to open affection," Viva said with a brilliant smile, turning to poke Clay in the nose. "He's been really nervoucited for your visit! That's, uhm, nervous and excited, by the way. He's really been looking forward to it."

"Oh, yeah? Well, me too," Trollex's grin returned to his face as he reached out to twine his fingers together with Clay's.

"Awww! So sweet," Viva cooed, hands cupped to her cheeks as she watched the blush spread over Clay's face. "Well, I'm gonna go! Poppy asked for me to help her show the techno trolls around," she added, tossing her thumb over her shoulder.

"What?!" Clay looked panicked, even as Trollex chuckled next to him.

"Yeah! A bunch of them have never been here before, and Poppy wanted someone to help her with them, and Branch is busy. So, off I go!" She patted Clay on the cheek, grinning as he sputtered quietly at her. "Just rip off the band-aid," she murmured, barely loud enough for Clay to hear, before turning on her heel with a wave. "You two love birds have fun!"

"I'm sure we will," Trolex called back, bouncing on his fins slightly as he waved back, while Clay's mind began to race as to what he could even do to keep Trollex entertained on his own.

~

"And, this is the library," Clay stated, gesturing with a broad wave at the building set into tree trunk and stone. In the end, he'd settled on a village tour, going in the opposite direction as the rest of the techno trolls. Trollex had, apparently, been to the village before, but that was before some major changes and expansions had occurred, so he thought it'd be a safe bet.

"Nice," Trollex hummed next to him, swinging their hands idly between them. He had not let go since the beach.

"Yeah. Very extensive sections on history and safety, which I was really surprised about, but I guess Branch really pushed for them," the green troll rambled, tugging Trollex along into the building.

"Yeah? Your brother is a pretty impressive dude," the king said appreciatively, letting Clay pull him along. They walked through the stacks in silence for a few minutes, Trollex's smile turning into a slight frown. "You know…you're pretty impressive, too, right?"

Clay jerked slightly in surprise at Trollex's comment, turning his head to arch an eyebrow at him. "What?" he laughed, finally letting go of the king to snag a random book of a shelf, "What're you talking about?"

"Dude! I talk to Poppy outside of meetings, you know. She told me all about her adventure in finding you guys and saving your other brother. She told me about how you were helping to manage a whole group of pop trolls that survived a near miss of a massacre. Not to mention all your stellar ideas in the meetings. How can you not think you're impressive?" Trollex asked, mildly affronted on Clay's behalf.

"I mean," Clay shrugged, a lopsided smile on his face, "I did my best. Viva was struggling with the putt putt trolls, and I knew how to do crowd control. People knew who I was from BroZone, so…I dunno if knowing how to charm people into listening to me is really that impressive."

"Woah, woah! Live wire! Clay…Man, I know all about all of the things you would've had to do to make that place livable. I kinda have to run my own kingdom, and Poppy told me what that place was like. You can't seriously think that was nothing?"

"Not nothing," Clay shook his head, "I know that. But the only reason I could do what I did was because people recognized me from my old band. They didn't actually start taking me seriously until years later. The other tribe leaders still barely take Viva and I seriously half the time. Branch did all of this," he waved at the book shelves, "without BroZone. Without clout, or reputation. He stood on his own two feet and made a name for himself without being shoved into a box."

"Hey. You climbed out of your box, Clay." Trollex moved so he stood in front of the green troll, carefully taking the book from his hands and setting it aside. "Bro, you are so much more than the 'fun boy' or 'the serious one'. You just gotta let yourself see that."

Clay scoffed quietly, taking a step back from Trollex. "Look at you. Having a handful of conversations about me with other people, and suddenly you think you know all about me."

"Well, that's just unfair, bro," Trollex sniffed, folding his arms over his chest. "We've spent time together. We've talked. You think I haven't been able to get a read on you from that, too?"

"How?! How could you possibly have a better idea of who I am than me? What do you even get out of this?! I'm not fun anymore!" Clay paused as the words left him, immediately taking another step back and covering his mouth with his hands. Today was supposed to be a leisurely day of hanging out with Trollex, not trauma dumping all over him. "I-" he swallowed thickly, watching the emotions shift over Trollex's face, before settling on what Clay could only describe as disappointment, "I'm sorry. That…I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"It's okay-"

"It's not! It's…it's really not. You came to visit and have a good time, but I'm not good at that anymore. I haven't been for a long time. I don't know what you were expecting, but I'm sure it wasn't this."

Trollex shifted forward, cautiously brushing his fingers against the back of Clay's hand. "And what, exactly, do you think I was expecting?"

"Someone interesting," Clay said with a shrug and a derisive snort of laughter, "Someone who knows how to be entertaining."

"Man, we talked about the structural integrity and benefits of different kinds of buttresses when you visited the reef," Trollex said with warm chuckle, "And you were so animated in our last meeting when you were talking about the importance of properly notarizing certain documents, I thought for sure you were gonna throw hands when Barb said it shouldn't matter. That's what I was expecting. Someone with passion for the things they care about. I do find that interesting. I don't really care if you're 'fun' or 'entertaining'. Besides, I thought we talked about this, already?"

"I guess we did," Clay admitted with a small shrug, turning his hand so he could lace their fingers together. "I think I just got all up in my own head, and…man, you're the king of the techno trolls. Your whole schtick is being 'fun'. I would've figured you'd go for someone less, I dunno. Boring."

"Boring!" Trollex couldn't help the bark of laughter that left him. "Bro! Clay, man, you are so far from boring."

"How's that?"

Trollex clicked his tongue with a short shake of his head. "You are baffling. Okay, for starters, most of the kingdoms haven't seen pop trolls in a couple decades, so we'll start with that, just by virtue of your hatching. Then, the fact that you were trapped in a tree by troll eating bergens, while also being in a boy band? Then, somehow you managed to escape said tree and helped with running a whole new settlement while you were still a teenager! And then you went on an epic adventure against giants to save your brother?" He let out a little whistle while Clay rolled his eyes.

"Those are just the highlights of my life. They don't make me interesting."

"Alright, fine. If those don't, then how about your passion for your people? Your unending want to make sure trolls stay safe and happy? Your devotion to your friends? The fact that, even though you were apart for, like, twenty years, you're making an effort to reconnect with your family? Your willingness to try new things and meet new people, even though you spent so long living in a secluded community? Do you need me to go on?"

"I-no," Clay shook his head, giving Trollex's hand a short squeeze. "You really think all that?"

Trollex laughed quietly, bringing Clay's hand up to press a short kiss to the back of it, grinning as a flush spread over the green trolls cheeks. "Yeah, man. 'Course. And even if you wanna spend the rest of the day in the library, I'll still think you're one of the most fascinating trolls I've ever met."

"If you say so," Clay said with a light laugh, "But, man…Y'know, I'm angry, like, all the time. Viva said it's a trauma response or something, but like…you sure you wanna deal with all this?"

"Yeah, bro. I think so."

Clay let a soft smile curl his lips as he gave a small nod to Trollex before he began to lead him through the library once again, their fingers remaining entwined. "All right. Well, turn about is fair play. You know a weirdly large amount about me. Tell me all about you."

~

"It's party time!!"

Clay didn't even blink as Viva appeared in the doorway of his pod later that day, while Trollex looked like he had nearly jumped out of his scales.

"Party time?" Clay echoed, eyes tracking Viva as she bounced into his pod and over to his kitchen, absently scouring his cupboards for sugar. At least, that's what she assumed she was doing, and he was proven right as she gave a triumphant little cheer when she found his cookie stash and stole one.

"Yeah! It's not Poppy's usual todo, but the techno trolls wanted to throw a rave," Viva chirped happily while munching on her pilfered cookie. "They're setting up all of the available DJ equipment and a bunch of lights and stuff as we speak."

"I dunno, Viv. You know that's not really my jam," Clay murmured, but caught the brief look of excitement on Trollex's face before it was quickly schooled and the King pretended to be interested in one of the picture frames on Clay's wall. "But, uh, I guess it wouldn't hurt to check it out?"

"Yes! You can show off your well-oiled robot," Viva cheered, bouncing back across the pod to the door. "I'll see you guys there! Poppy has me running around letting people know about the last minute party change. Thanks for the cookie!" With that Viva twirled her way out the door, leaving Clay and Trollex alone again.

"You sure you wanna go? You didn't seem super jazzed at the rave in the reef," Trollex asked, floating over to Clay.

"Yeah, no! It'll be good."

~

It was, in fact, not good.

The bass felt like it was rattling Clay's very bones, but Trollex seemed to be having a ball, twirling glowsticks around between his fingers and yelling out every time the DJ did a call and response. The DJ wasn't even a techno troll, but some troll he'd been told was named Suki, who'd moved to Techno Reef for a while to learn more about techno mixing, and had created her own hybrid techno pop DJ style. It was actually pretty good, in Clay's humble opinion, it was just that the party was a bit louder and rowdy than he was strictly used to anymore. He was trying, though. Trollex had taken the liberty of affixing glow sticks around Clay's wrists, ankles and neck, which honestly made the green troll feel a bit silly, but he'd acquiesced at the brilliant smile Trollex had given him for it.

A couple of techno trolls inevitably dragged Trollex into a dance circle, and Clay took it as his opportunity to escape the dance floor and take a breather near the edge of the party. He made sure he could still see the king, and vise versa, before flopping himself into one of the chairs that were scattered around with a loud groan.

"How's it going?"

"Cupcakes!" Clay sat up with a start, shooting his baby brother a glare. "What is it with all of you sneaking up on me, man?"

"I mean, it's sort of your own fault for being unaware," Branch said with a grin that told Clay all he needed to know about his brother's lack of remorse over his racing heart.

"Well, it's not my fault I'm unaware when the music is so loud," Clay groused, slumping back down in his seat as Branch pulled a chair up next to him.

"It's not so bad, when you get used to it," Branch said with a shrug, earning an arched eyebrow of disbelief from Clay.

"That's surprising, coming from you."

"Yeah," Branch laughed with a shrug, "I used to hate techno, if I'm being honest. But, I made friends with a couple of them, got invited to a few raves here and there, and it grew on me."

"You say that about all the genres," Clay snorted, idly twirling one of his glow sticks between his fingers.

"Yeah, I guess I do," Branch hummed, looking thoughtful for a moment, before rising from his seat. "You know…I bet if you stopped thinking so much, and just let yourself feel the music, it wouldn't grate on you so much." With that he gave Clay a little salute and headed into the crowd without a backwards glance.

"Wh-what's that even supposed to mean?!" Clay shouted after Branch, pushing himself up to find his baby brother having all but disappeared on the dance floor. He scowled for a moment, before taking a deep breath and counting to ten before letting it out slowly, like Viva had drilled into him over the years when he felt overwhelmed or upset by things. The music then shifted from some base driven, heavy song, to something softer with a beat that Clay found himself actually bobbing his head along to, and lyrics that the pop trolls on the dance floor had begun to sing along with.

He was about to get up to try and find Trollex, when the troll in question appeared in front of him with a grin. "There you are!" he cheered, reaching down to pull Clay up from his seat, "C'mon, Live Wire! You gotta dance with me to this one!"

Clay let himself be dragged back onto the dance floor, but this time, instead of planting his feet and barely registering the music happening around him, he did his best to let the beat take him. He took a couple of deep breaths, watching as Trollex tossed his arms in the air and whoop at a beat drop, letting a smile take over his face. He let the beat that he had previously hated feeling in his bones shift his body, rather than resolutely standing against it, like a rock against crashing waves. He felt his feet move across the floor before he'd even realized he'd done so, bobbing his head and grinning as he swung his arms around, twirling his glowsticks around gleefully. He let out a shout of joy as Trollex grabbed his arms and twirled them both around in the center of the dancefloor, before the green troll dropped into a spin down sweep and popped back up with a grin. The trolls around him cheered, to which he blew a few kisses and bowed with a laugh.

"See?" Clay shivered at Trollex's breathless hum next to his ear, "Fun boy Clay isn't dead. He was just in hibernation."

~

Clay moaned as his back hit the door of his pod hours later, Trollex pressed against his front and kissing the life out of him.

"You gotta-wait! You gotta let me open the door," he laughed breathlessly as Trollex shifted from kissing him outright, to planting little kisses over his shoulder and down his arm.

"Go on, then," the king huffed, letting Clay go long enough to open the door and step into the pod, before he was back on him like white on rice. He kicked the door shut with one of his fins. "You were so, mmn, electric!" Trollex groaned, pushing Clay backwards through the pod towards his bed.

"Gotta live up to my nickname somehow," Clay laughed, stumbling happily through his pod with the techno king barely letting him out of his grasp.

"You did, you did," Trollex cooed, a triumphant little grin on his face as Clay squawked indignantly and fell backwards on his bed as his knees hit it. "And, trust, I'm gonna show you just how good you did out there."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah."

~

Clay gasped as Trollex stilled above him, the both of them a panting mess amongst the faint, multicolored gleam of the glowsticks still wrapped around Clay's appendages, and Trollex's natural bioluminescence.

"Fuck, Live Wire," Trollex murmured as he let himself settle over Clay like a blanket, digging his arms under Clay's pillow so he could hug the green troll to him, "You feel so good."

"You, too," Clay sighed, drawing his fingers in random little patterns over Trollex's arms, a blissed out little smile on his face, "We should do this again, sometime."

"All the time," Trollex grumbled into Clay's shoulder, shifting his hips just so and making Clay whimper beneath him.

"Yeah, okay, I can probably be convinced of that," Clay sighed, squeezing his knees around Trollex's hips.

"Good," Trollex sighed happily, pressing a kiss to the underside of Clay's jaw. "I know long distance relationships can be hard, but if you're willing, so am I."

Clay blinked at the ceiling, his heart racing a little at Trollex's words. "So…this is a relationship, then?"

The king snorted, pushing himself up to look down at Clay, the pink heart on his chest glowing brilliantly. "If you want it to be, yes. I know I do."

"Yes! I mean…yeah," Clay tried to feign nonchalance, only to whine as Trollex rolled his hips with a grin.

"This really isn't the position you should be in when you wanna try to act indifferent, bro," Trollex cackled, earning a swift smack in the shoulder from Clay.

~

The next morning found Clay up well before Trollex. He stumbled his way into the shower, having fully forgotten about the dull ache that'd be in his hips, and tucked himself up in a blanket on the couch with a book once he was clean. He glanced up with a pleased little smile as Trollex stumbled out of his bedroom, looking groggy as he leaned against the door frame.

"Where'd you go?" Trollex all but whined, floating across the pod to sit on the couch next to Clay.

"I got up and took a shower," Clay snorted, lifting his book as Trollex squirmed into his space, wrapping his arms around Clay's waist and half burying his face into the green trolls stomach.

"Read to me."

Clay hummed, resting the spine of the book against Trollex's shoulder. "You sure? It's sad."

"Yeah," the king said around a yawn, "You like sad books. Read one to me."

Clay smiled warmly at the half asleep techno troll in his lap, before flipping back to the first page of his book and beginning to read.

[akiranzee]

💓 • ° ` — “THAT FUNNY FEELING”

-> PAIRINGS: Muichiro Tokito x f!Hashira!Y/n -> SUMMARY: Muichiro was someone who never remembered his past. He didn’t know how to act, so he became emotionless. That was until… -> WORD COUNT: 1.6k+ -> CONTAINS: fluff, some fighting, & muichiro is 14 while reader is 15. -> A/N: this feels more like a shitwork ngl. (y/h/l) is “your hair length”, (y/b/s) is “your breathing style !!

-------------Loading…------------

------------Complete!------------

Muichiro, a young demon slayer and a hashira, who constantly lived his life full of mystery, actions, and blood. But due to his current condition, he doesn’t know what kind of life he’s living in. He just know, that he has to try his best to survive in this world.

“CAW! CAW! REPORT TO NORTHWEST! REPORT TO NORTHWEST!” His crow, Ginko, called out to him and repeated twice, yet for another mission.

Muichiro softly sighed, and looked down at his blade, seeming to have forgotten the reason why he was doing this again.

But on the other hand, last night’s talk with Oyakata-sama surprisingly stayed in his mind, that wherever he goes, nor whatever path he chooses, the blood of a protector, a slayer, will always be within him.

Soon, he walked towards the direction of a forest; where his mission starts.

The dark sight seen within meters away inside the forest, the aura and vibe the darkness gave off, and the dying tweets and howls of animals were heard meters away from the forest’s depth.

They all sent chills down Ginko, but Muichiro still showed no emotion, nor worry.

He stepped a step, then slowly walked towards the forest, watching out for any ambush at this moment.

His crow, Ginko, shivered as she followed her master walk deep inside the forest, as it felt like they were slowly getting swallowed. But her trust on her master overpowered than her fear, believing everything will be alright, as long as her master is there by her side.

A sound of a twig snapping caught both of their attention, then Ginko went onto hiding, leaving her master to finish the job immediately.

Muichiro, in a stance ready to unsheathe his sword at any moment, breathed silently as his hearing sense heightened hundreds than normal.

Closing his eyes, he tried to feel the world around him, trying to locate just where this demon was.

Another sound of a twig snapping, and his eyes flicked open in an instant, evading the demon’s immediate attack.

He stepped backwards, and swang his sword to the demon’s neck, the demon could not even react as it happened so fast.

But that demon was not the main suspect; as the world around him didn’t change. It was still sinister, mischievous, and dark.

He leapt onto a tree, trying to see if he can find the demon. But even from above, all he could see was darkness. And he knew that it was in fact, intentional.

The main suspect in this is no ordinary demon, rather it might even be one of the 12 kizukis.

He jumped down from the tree, as the darkness slowly surrounded him. Slowly, it was getting darker and darker, but a faint scent saved and helped him.

A demon may hide itself, but never its scent, as the boy with black hair and burgundy tips always said.

The faint scent was slowly getting nearer and closer, as if it was planning to do a surprise attack, but now it’s no surprise as Muichiro was finally aware of the demon.

The footsteps were silenced, he can never hear them. His vision was dark, he can never see anything. The only thing that’s left was his olfactory sense, the only sense that could save him from this nightmare.

For a few seconds, he tried to get a whiff of the demon, but it’s scent was long gone.

Muichiro still felt neutral, even when he looked like a fool standing there and awaiting the right time. But this demon, seemed as if, it was experienced enough to know the pros and cons on dealing with a hashira.

The smell felt distant, but Muichiro’s sixth sense, which is mist, tells him otherwise.

Apparently, the demon didn’t seem to know what Muichiro’s breathing style is. It doesn’t even know the dark mist has been giving Muichiro the upperhand for quite some time now.

The mist tells him, that the demon was nowhere near distant. In fact, it was near him, or might even be, next to him.

As Muichiro spun around, orange eyes filled with hatred met his, eyes that one’s soul cannot be found, with something written on it.

“Lower Moon 3.” Muichiro read the writing in the demon’s eyes, and immediately jumped backward before things escalate to his own death.

The demon still looked at him with hatred, growling hungrily, seeking for its revenge. But Muichiro couldn’t care less, as his one and only mission was to eliminate this demon.

The demon, who was supposedly strong, vanished in one slash. The anger was too much that it blinded him, that it made him indifferent.

As the demon dropped to the ground and slowly turned to ashes, he could see the change of his surroundings. The dark mist was slowly turning white, and the trees of the forest were slowly becoming visible.

As he turned around to walk off, he felt a pang in his heart. The demon’s position, crawling to wherever hell brings him, without a left arm. For some reason, it made him feel pain and anger. He couldn’t understand why, but the sight of that demon reminds him of something. Or of someone.

~~~~~

As he reached the demon slayer base, he immediately looked for Oyakata-sama to report and finish this day.

“Ah, Tokito, it’s great to see you well and alive.” Oyakata-sama greeted him as they made eye contact, Muichiro then formally bowed down and reported today’s mission.

~~~~~

As the day almost came to an end, he laid down on a big rock, and looked up the sky.

It was dark and murky, but the stars sparkled amidst that darkness.

Time slowly passed, Muichiro slowly drifted off to sleep.

~~~~~

The birds chirped and tweeted sweetly, before he laid awoke seconds ago.

His eyes slowly flicked open, seeing the sky first, then the ground. Yesterday's event became a blur in his mind, the death of lower moon 3 were not found and remembered in his thoughts again.

Slowly, he stood up, the thought of going somewhere was absent as his foot dragged him to wherever it wanted. His mind was somewhere else, anyway. Rather — someone.

It’s a very blurry vision, but his heart pains as he tries to remember what happened, and what he saw that night. It was as if a heavy burden that he has long forgotten, but is never supposed to forget.

As his mind wandered off, he halted; realizing he had step foot in Oyakata-sama’s estate. He turned all over around to look at his surroundings; it was full of trees, flowers, and such.

But then; a lady with (y/h/l) hair in a demon slayer corps uniform, appeared in his sight.

He stared at her for a few seconds, wondering who she is and what was she doing here, specifically in Oyakata-sama’s estate. He slowly approached her, curious of such a new presence.

“Ah, Tokito-kun. Such a great timing you have.” Just then, he halted once again and turned around, to see Oyakata-sama beautifully smiling at him.

“That girl you were looking at a while ago is our new (y/b/s) pillar. She has just been recruited today. Tokito-kun, would you mind assisting her to such new things upon her sight?” Oyakata-sama asked Muichiro for his consent and decision, while he thought about it over and over again.

“She’s a year older than you are.” Oyakata-sama suddenly said, and that was enough to pull him out of his long decision-making.

Muichiro glanced one more time your way, but this time, your back was not faced to him. Both your eyes met, and that was when his heart started to thump loudly. It was as if he was finally resurrected to life, like he was back from the dead.

It was a new feeling; indeed. For all his life, all he ever felt were, well, to be honest, nothing. He didn’t care about the world neither. He only cared about how peaceful the sky looked like. But now seeing you, he finally sees a different point in life. A more meaningful point, that is.

Slowly, you walked towards Muichiro as Oyakata-sama waved you to come. He simply smiled and said, “(Y/n)-san, this is Muichiro Tokito, and Tokito, this is (Y/n) (L/n).”

Having an eye contact with you even if it was just 2 seconds felt like eternity to Muichiro. His heart thumped loudly, and he could feel the warmness of his own. He just couldn’t take his eyes off of you — it all felt so unfamiliar, yet he was comfortable with it.

~~~~~

Days passed, you and Muichiro’s friendship had grown to be closer. Yet Muichiro can never forget that funny feeling.

That funny feeling when you smile and talk happily with him, not giving a care to whoever hears you.

That funny feeling when you make eye contact to each other, that would make his heart thump alive and face flush.

That funny feeling when he feels happy whenever the hashiras — mainly Mitsuri, call the both of your ‘friendship’ as “young love”.

That funny feeling when he feels uneasy whenever you’re not around, or when he doesn’t know where you are.

That funny feeling when he feels angry just by seeing the smallest scratch or wound on a part of you.

Love, they say. Muichiro never believed, but now, just by seeing you from a distance, he feels complete.

He feels as if he was finally alive. His soul burning through, his heart screaming of his well-being, his mind only concentrated on you, his feelings overflowing.

That funny feeling was driving him to madness. He would always visit you in your estate; he would always bring you delicious foods, he would always be there. Because now, he could never imagine a world without you.

You became his everything. Watching the stars with you tonight was the best thing he could ever experience. It was peaceful, especially with both your hands holding each other.

[wild-raven-and-crow]

I mentioned earlier that Munin had an adventure I would tell you about...

The Norse God Odin had two ravens, Hugin and Munin (Thought and Memory) that would fly around the world bringing him the knowledge of the day. What would it have felt like, awaiting their return? This stanza from the Grímnismál speaks of this:

"Over the earth Hugin and Munin set forth to fly.

For Hugin I fear lest he'll not return,

But for Munin my fear is more."

(Note: Since the Norse name Munin translates as "Memory" in English, we call Munin "Memory" when we really want her attention, or when we want her to come to us. Otherwise she'd quickly learn to disregard her name since we talk about her in her presence so frequently. It is best for her to have a common name, and a "secret" name we call her with.)

Munin's Adventure:

We were invited to a picnic down in Samammish with friends, and Munin was the guest of honor. We were all sitting on the grass, munching on chips (Munin loves chips) when she flew from her perch, snapping her leash. We thought she would wait patiently like a dog while we reattached it, but no (only idiots would think this.) She flew off to a nearby tree and then perched there, chatting with us in her croaky voice happily in an infuriatingly unreachable way. Ravens are like this.

Here is where I must confess that she doesn't come to her name well at all. She is very aware that it refers to her, and will turn to us when we call it, but she only flies over if she sees a reason to, and we had already plied her with every delicious snack at the picnic. I admit this is a failure with our teaching.

We waited under her perch for about an hour, getting on with our picnic, offering her treats every so often for which she politely declined to fly down. Then Munin spontaneously to flew towards us as we were distracted by handing people drinks, then away from us beyond our line of sight. That's when I became concerned.

Very clearly, she was having fun, and when ravens have fun you know something terrible is about to happen.

We called to her, and searched, and eventually she started calling back from a distance, the faint feminine croaking muffled by the surrounding trees. We followed the sounds and sighted her in a tree so tall that she was just a black blob against the afternoon sky. She had already attracted a couple of angry crows that were yelling at her to leave. She tried making friendly calls to them, but it takes more than a friendly greeting to convince a gang of racist crows to hang out with a newcomer. She gave up, and started trying to ignore them. She chatted with us when the crows calmed down a bit. We called back to her and she responded while hopping between branches, occasionally pausing to tear leaves off the tree, tossing them into the air so they fluttered to the ground. Trees have a lot of leaves. We figured that this new project would take her some time.

As we watched, the picnic slowly dwindled in size over the hours, as the lengthening shadows weakened the group by attrition. Only the last and most loyal remained as Munin finally spread her wings and soared up into the sky. The dying sun reflected the end of a beautiful day upon her feathers, as she wheeled about in ever-higher, ever-widening circles, separating herself from our desperate cries of "Memory! ...Memory! ...Memory!!! NO!!!!" Could she even hear us through the rushing wind? I don't know.

So the day ended.

We have given Munin the opportunity to hone her flying skills, and she has learned to forage for treats well, often circumventing my attempts to prevent her from stealing. However, ravens with all their brilliance do have a weakness, and that is language. We can show Munin things to teach her about the world, but we can't tell her about something she hasn't seen yet. Bald Eagles for instance, who on rare occasion prey on ravens, are not something Munin is familiar with, and the fact that two such eagles were nesting in a tree right next to the one Munin had been happily playing in was not possible to communicate to her. It was also not possible to tell her that large flocks of territorial crows can knock a raven off course, nor that West Nile Virus is quite deadly. Munin's previous experience in her rather small, easy-to-navigate world has shown her that everyone loves and admires, or at least respects her. She has certainly never met anyone who considers her edible. As individuals, there will always come a time when our beliefs are tested, when our ingenuity is tested, when we face the dangers that lurk behind the borders of our picnic. That moment often defines us, if we survive it.

We did not wait quietly for Munin's return. We posted paper flyers within a two-mile radius, we put about a hundred flyers under the mats of the nearest neighbors, we notified local birding groups, we paid for online ads targeted to local people, and we handed out flyers by hand asking people to post it on their social media accounts or elsewhere online. Also, we made sure someone was always at the property from which Munin had flown who was able to call for her. For good measure, we brought Hugin in a crate and placed him in the center of the garden to help us call for her. I knew that if she heard him she would come to him.

Every day after, we woke up at dawn to search the distant skies for a lone raven, or any bird being harassed by the local crows. We noticed the local birds flew across the sky at about 5am, so we woke up early every day in case she was with them. We called out "Memory!" every time we saw a bird that could have been her. We rarely got responses, but we got enough to hold on to our dwindling hopes that she would return. Actually, it seemed that we were rather torturing the neighbors, who every dawn and dusk would hear banshee-like cries in the distance as we walked to and fro across the grass plaintively shrieking "Memory, Memory..." Phone calls and texts came in with news of any oddly-behaving raven that was spotted, or offers to help look. We had other animals at our house that we needed to care for, so one of us spent at least half of every day commuting between our home and Sammamish. Finally, we started to talk about staying at home because driving the two hours between our home and Sammamish every day was becoming unreasonable, but we waited one last day anyway, because it didn't feel right to just leave. The dusk and dawn once more passed with no response, and we began to pack up to leave for home. It was the third day. We had everything arrayed on the driveway next to our truck, when my phone rang.

I answered the call, and I heard a calm voice on the other end of the line say "I think your raven is on my deck." The voice said he'd been talking to the raven for about an hour. I asked if she had jesses on her legs and he said yes. I said we'd be right over in a few minutes, and he said he'd keep talking to her. I suggested he feed her cheese crackers and he seemed doubtful. Alan nearly crashed the truck on the way over, but we made it, and we ran around the back of the house where Munin was waiting. She made low, happy croaks as we approached, and flew to Alan's arm the moment he held it out.

Munin was finally returned to us.

The ironic thing in all this is that the guy who saw Munin was too afraid to go outside his door to try and approach her, or feed her treats... he just talked to her through his window from the safety of his house. Memory was returned to us by a very sincere, bird-phobic man. I am deeply appreciative of the lengths to which brave and good-hearted people will go when someone else's heart is on the line.

Now that Munin is home, she seems to have matured. She is a little more confident when flying from place to place, is more unwilling to have us leave her when we're out in strange places, and is much more likely to come to her name quickly. Overall, she seems more confident and relaxed. She seems to have learned some very helpful things out in the world.

(Munin and Hugin are my African ravens.)