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lixiesfreckless · 6 months

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Early | l. m.

➸ synopsis: God, you want him so bad it's almost pathetic.

➸ starring: lee minho x female reader

➸ word count: 2.5k

➸ general content: acquaintance!minho, reader is horrendously down bad, insane amounts of pining, like- this entire fic is just the reader pining for him lmao

➸ warnings: mentions of alcohol, mild swearing

➸ rating: teen+

➸ author’s note: I'd like to thank @ashonheavenscloud for the ending idea. sorry for the readers I'm about to blueball

♫ early- junny, soulbysel(THIS IS LITERALLY THE INSPO FOR THE FIC)

“Yeah, I can take her home.”

Ryujin claps a little too loudly, courtesy of the several drinks she had shotgunned an hour before.

“Thank you bestest older brother in the universe,” she slurs, wrapping her arms around the older man, who was furrowing his eyebrows in mild discomfort. You stand there awkwardly, already feeling like you were inconveniencing him as well.

As bad as you felt about it though, you couldn't help the nervousness creeping through your veins at the thought of being alone with Minho.

It's not as if you've never been alone with him. You have; just in transitional spaces. Waiting for the rest of the friend group to show up. Waiting for different trains at the metro station. Waiting for the closer mutual friend to come back from the restroom. Hell, him dropping you off wasn’t really any different.

You really don't talk to him much at all, which makes it all the more ridiculous that you even have a crush on him.

And yet, you just let it fester, held back by the classic best-friend’s-older-brother unofficial rulebook. But you think even if he wasn't related to Ryujin, you still wouldn't make a move, simply too shy to find out what was under his impenetrable blank stare and trademark doc martens.

After snatching up your purse, you quickly say goodbye to your friends before catching Minho at the door.

“Sorry about all this again–”

“I was already on my way out, don't sweat it.”

Minho holds the door to the club open for you, and you step out into the crisp coolness of night, trying to appear as collected as the man walking beside you.

“My car is just around the corner, I'm just gonna grab some water for you from the store, okay?”

You find yourself nodding, although you're barely paying attention; you are focusing on averting your gaze from his face, careful as to not give yourself any more daydreaming material.

His car has one of those proximity keys, so there's no cheerful chirp letting the block know that he's about to open the passenger side door for you. Which is how it should be, because that is not a monumental occasion.

Except oh my god, Lee Minho just opened the door for you to get into his car, you might as well be married at this point.

You watch as he disappears into the little corner convenience store, and returns in record time, barely giving you any time to rehearse any cool sounding conversation starters. Then again, it's not like there would be a long line at well past three in the morning.

Shit. You're in Lee Minho’s car going to your house at three in the morning.

Your thoughts are cut off by Minho jumping into the driver’s side, swiftly starting the car and dropping two bottles of water into the cupholders.

“You live right in front of the memorial park right?”

You settle on a hum, not trusting your voice to sound calm in the slightest as his hand reaches for the gear shift. Coincidentally, that's the same time you choose to take your bottle of water from the center console.

And this is how you learn that Minho’s hands are softer than they look.

You don't stand a chance against the tidal wave of thoughts that flood your mind immediately after the accidental contact, your mind suddenly reeling with images of his hands cradling your face, sliding behind your neck, around your waist, through your hair–

“Sorry,” you squeak out, immediately seizing the bottle and twisting it open, desperate for something to lower your rising body temperature. He actually chuckles in response, and the sound has you focusing on the cool leather seat against your bare back in an attempt to round up your remaining brain cells.

He pulls the car away from the curb, beginning what will probably be the longest ten minutes of your life.

There are some things you pick up on immediately.

For one, Minho predominantly drives with one hand.

You honestly don't get how he looks so relaxed doing it either, side profile completely at ease as his right hand absentmindedly taps on the gear shift. If you were in the driver's seat, both hands would be at 10 and 2 o’ clock, just like your driving instructor taught you. Which is exactly why you take the metro; you feel like a stressed suburban mom when you drive, but don't have the time to rewire your brain to make your hands sit at 8 and 4 o’ clock like everyone else.

But he looks like he's shooting a Hyundai commercial, hand resting comfortably on the top of the wheel as the soft orange glow of the dash illuminates his perfect nose bridge and perfect eyelashes–

“Are you cold?”

“No, I’m good,” you reply, trying and failing to keep the questioning tone out of your voice.

“Sorry- thought I saw you shiver just now,” he chuckles, glancing at you and letting his eyes drop to your legs for a split second.

Honestly, you probably did shiver; just not from the cold.

Also, why on earth did you decide to wear this dress of all dresses tonight?

Backless and short with a halter neckline, one could call this a revenge dress if you had an ex. Except it’s starting to feel like revenge on yourself, because as fleeting as Minho’s glances towards you are, they never go unnoticed, and each one makes the hem feel an inch shorter.

Granted, the slope of the seat makes the skirt ride up anyways, so it was inevitable, but you can't pull it down—he would immediately think you lied to him about being cold. Or get the idea that you didn't want him to look at your legs. Which would be ridiculous; he's practically the whole reason you wore this dress in the first place.

You're stretching your legs out before you can give it a second thought, and you don't miss the way Minho’s jaw sets, or how his finger stops drumming against the gear shift.

Now that made you more than a little curious.

The second thing you notice is Minho’s excellent taste in music.

You assume his phone automatically connected to the car once he turned it on, because no radio station you can list off the top of your head has beats this smooth. You've never considered what kind of music he would listen to, mostly because you were worried about what he would think of your music taste.

But this?

These are exactly the kinds of songs you would play if you wanted to set the mood. They sound like what the world looks like after the last hues of purple leave the horizon. Indigo. Whatever that means.

You can't help but wonder if he was trying to set the mood.

Oh god, you're almost to your apartment and you haven't said anything interesting since you left the club.

You steal a glance at his side profile, once again reminded that Minho can rock any hair color he chooses as the street lights reflect blue off of his jet black hair. It gives him a darker aura, one that stops most lingering gazes on him from ever getting closer. Sure, it's not much different from the color he had before, which was dark brown, but the change makes a difference. To you at least.

You saw its effects in action, watching all night as girls at the club try to approach him to only end up shooting their shot with his companion, who was always eager to down tequila shots with bright eyes and cheeky smiles.

“The new hair looks good.”

“Didn't catch that,” he quickly says, turning down the volume of the music with his steering wheel and slowing to a stop at a red light.

“I like what you did with your hair.”

“Really? I honestly didn’t think anyone would notice.”

“The girls at the club sure did,” you half-laugh, and he turns to look at you in bewilderment.

“You think so?”

“You could have filled a swimming pool with how much they were drooling.”

Minho laughs. He actually laughs at something you said. The sound makes you so dizzy you think someone slipped something into your drink.

The feeling of the car sliding in next to the curb pulls you back down to reality in an instant.

He puts the car into park and you slump into your seat, not at all trying to hide how disappointed you are at your performance tonight.

“Thanks for driving me home,” you whisper, not daring to look him in the eyes as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Anytime,” he says so casually, and maybe a bolder you would take him up on that offer.

Instead you nod and smile, and reach for the door handle.

“Y/n.”

You hum and look back at him, trying your best to ignore the turmoil in your stomach once your eyes meet.

“I…this might sound a bit odd, but can I use your bathroom?” He smiles crookedly. “My place is still a ways away–”

“Sure,” you say without thinking, and he nods and jumps out of the car. You definitely can't read into that. Maybe he really can't wait until he gets home. Maybe he doesn't want an excuse to be in your apartment past midnight.

Still, your hands tremble as you twist your keys in the doorknob.

You kick your heels off upon entering, and Minho follows suit, ditching his combat boots by the door as he awaits your instruction.

Looking up, you catch him watching you expectantly, and you indulge the attention before realization dawns on you.

“Oh– the bathroom, yes. Last door on the left, sorry,” you hastily choke out, shaking your head in embarrassment. He chuckles out thanks before sliding past you and disappearing around the corner.

Water. You need water.

The coolness of the marble counter feels good against your bare back as you lean against it, trying to get a grip as cold water rushes down your throat. Maybe you should just attempt to make a move on a different night, when you have a little more liquid courage running through your veins and he’s as hazy as he is handsome. Your mind wanders back to that blissful moment in the car, when he threw his head back in a fit of laughter. That felt so natural, so easy. Why couldn’t you make him do that all the time?

Well, maybe you could, but that requires talking to him regularly, which is something you only do in your daydreams.

Minho suddenly steps out of the bathroom and you fight the urge to choke on your water, setting the glass down on the counter as he approaches you.

“I take it you like jasmine?

“The flower?” The random trivia throws you off guard. “Yeah, it’s my favorite flower…how did you–”

“Everything in your bathroom is jasmine scented,” Minho chuckles, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets.

“Ah, well…I found it helps to match everything to your perfume so it seems to last longer.”

“So you’re saying my car should smell like jasmine when I go back?”

“Only one way to find out,” you say with a smile, internally crying over how you just created a seamless segue for him to leave.

He turns to go find his combat boots, and you punch the air, frantically looking for an excuse for him to stay. But he’s standing by the door too soon, running a hand through his silky black hair before giving you a wave goodbye.

“Goodnight Y/n.”

“Get home safe, Minho.”

The door opens, then closes, and you exhale a sigh of relief, or frustration. Most likely equal parts both.

Perhaps baby steps would be the way to go. You haven’t even texted him, and you want him to make a move? Maybe he thinks you aren’t interested because you haven’t exactly been forward.

Sighing, you move towards your kitchen table, and then you freeze. The universe has never given you a second chance so pointedly before.

Minho left his keys.

You reach for your phone, deciding that calling him would be faster than chasing after him, but stop halfway through your contacts once you hear him knocking on the door.

“It’s open!”

He steps inside to see you twirling the key ring around your index finger, and you hold it out for him to take as you walk up to the door.

“I didn’t take you as the forgetful type,” you giggle.

“Let’s just say I was distracted.” He slides the metal ring off your finger, and you know the dip his eyes make isn't a trick of the light.

He turns to leave, even opening the door, but when he takes a step out and turns to look back at you, something shifts in his eyes. Like a cat that’s seen something move in its periphery.

And in your mind, it all happens so unbearably slowly.

He would step back in without a word, moving slowly and soundlessly as he’d break eye contact just to watch the door click shut. You’d find yourself backing into the wall next to him, hands pressed flat by your sides as you’d try to make sense of his approaching silhouette under the dim lighting.

It would feel all too real, his hands sliding around to the small of your back, his chest pressing into yours, his breath fanning across your face. Your breath would catch in your throat, and the first touch of his lips would be cautious, before diving in with unrestrained desire.

You’ve imagined what it would be like to kiss Minho a million times, and with your ever-descriptive reveries, it almost feels real as you ponder the different ways he could pin you against this wall, mouth hard against yours, or light and teasing with feathery brushes of his lips.

God, you want him so bad it’s almost pathetic.

So bad, in fact, that once he lifts the corner of his lips in a smile and turns to leave for the night, it takes everything in you not to throw caution to the wind, and spin him back around. Find out what Lee Minho tastes like for yourself.

But you don’t.

You watch him walk down your hall until he leaves your sight, and even after you’re gone, you spend at least another minute replaying the few moments you had with him tonight.

Next time, you think, chewing your bottom lip as images of kissing Minho resurface against your will.

I’ll do something about him next time.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

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Oh god PLEASE do a short with creep reader giving horrible torture ideas to Host while the contestants look on in horror.

(sorta forgot the short in your ask, but I hope you enjoy)

You are in an office.

The wall directly to your south is missing, but you can't see that far behind you - and so it is still there. A man sits cross from you at the other end of the table. You sense the presence of others in chairs beside you, but trying to make out distinct features from their grainy silhouettes only worsened the dull throbbing in the back of your skull. The amount of attention should bother you, but the significance of that man and yourself overshadowed them like the phantoms they were. Besides you, he's the most important in the room. He's your boss afterall.

Bathed in grey from his suit to his slicked back hair to even his skin, the man nurses an equally monochrome mug branded with the cheeky title of "A Show Host." The only bout of color on him was his tie which was curiously the exact shade and hue as your favorite color, and the book he held in his free hand. A quaint little journal with its lock popped and the key still in your pocket. Your brain screams to steal it back, but same as you can't look anywhere except ahead your body has lost all control of the rest of its motor functions.

The man barks a chuckle at the twisted thoughts you've put to paper. He removes his tie and tucks it smoothly between the pages of your journal, folding his hands neatly on the table as he closes it shut. His excessively wide grin peaks further as your eyes meet where his should be.

"Before we begin our meeting I must say what an honor it is to have such a clever mind in our little studio. Been a big fan of your work for quite some time and I think it's time to put some of your works to action."

The man tilts his sightless gaze towards the table. There are three folders where blank space once preoccupied. You gain control of your limbs as your fingers wiggle in the direction of the one closest to you.

"Those folders contain everything you need to know about the lovely contestants joining us today. Hopes, fears, ambitions, regrets- All you need and more to cook up some delicious punishment for our losers. Anything and I do mean anything is on the table. Give us your deepest, darkest fantasies and we will be more than glad to make them reality. The ball's in your court, and the pen is in your hand."

You open the first folder - gripping the pen in your sweaty palm as you read. As told, the folder is chalk full of notes on some guy just a couple years your senior. Someone's entire life held within rubber bands and pages. You sit in silence for a while. Circling some pieces, crossing out others. The Host watches intently from his end of the table feeling the swell of pride and admiration towards your dedication in whatever part of him resembled a human heart. You set down your tool and gather your notes as you begin your speech.

"Contestant A has severe claustrophobia resulting from locked in a closet by siblings as a child and forgotten for several hours. They also have fears of the dark and needles which are mostly unrelated on the surface. A potential punishment is to lock them in a room with just enough space to move. The walls are covered in spikes, slowly closing on them as time passes. The walls move at different paces so they believe it's safer elsewhere when in reality there's nowhere for them to go."

Silence. The silhouettes turn face each other, muttering amongst themselves with words you can't quite make out before facing Host sitting patiently this whole time. One by one, the silhouettes rise - striking their palms together in a chorus of applause which reaches its peak as one final member joins the frey. Host wipes a fake tear of his cheek. It almost feels...pleasant to receive positive attention for once.

"Beautiful, just beautiful. Childhood trauma, the hopeless hope or escape. I knew there was nothing short of genius in you. Keep going."

Host returns to his chair, resting his chin on the ball of his palm as you reach for another folder. Your hand naturally falls on the next one in order, but upon picking it up the letter on its cover is C. Host picks up his cup and holds to his lips as you look up at him. Skimming through the pages a strange feeling settles in your stomach. The same that plagued when writing nearly every entry in your book. You set the folder down and pick up the third. Then the first. It all clicks.

"Contestant C.... Contestant C is someone who tried to make my life a living hell in the past. In spite of this, with your permission I'd like to make them an offer. The other contestants are close friends of theirs. Life long even. Contestant C is now both an star athlete and plays guitar on weekend. They are also selfish and care for no one but themselves. I would like to give them the opportunity to free themselves and their friends in exchange for their dominant arm. If they refuse they are free to leave, following immediate punishment, torture and killing of their allies they must sit through."

Host stares at you - least you assume so given his lack of eyes, for quite some time. So long whatever he was drinking had to be cold by now. His cup turns out to be empty as it rolls across the floor. Thand resting on his chin covers his entire face as he folds, head bouncing off the wooden as his body twitches and jerks with every giggle he stifles. His attempts are in vain as his laughter echoes through the shadows around you, and the unseen crowd behind you. They convulse in ways unnatural foe the human forms they mimic. The sound reverberates from every corner, drowning your thoughts. You pick up the mug at your feet, reading its message for a second of clarity.

"Reality's Greatest Co-Host."

Host gradually regains his composure. He cards a hand through his hair and fixes his collar as he lifts himself off the table. He shutters returning to focus to you having never known more love or appreciation for the human mind than what consumes him now.

"I... could honestly kiss you right now. Forgive me for my brashness, but you have proven yourself a second time as the perfect member of our team. I'd kill to have a look at your brain, but I much prefer it in that pretty head of yours. I simply can't wait to see what you have in store for future guests, but for now let's focus on the ones we have now. We've kept them waiting long enough..

Blinking once, Host stands over you, holding out his hand as bright light blinds your vision. You're no longer facing the table and now in view of the stage hidden behind that wall that never existed. Three people stand behind podiums, each expressing terror, dread, anger or a perfect mixture of the three. Your lips pull into a smile as you take Host's hand and step out onto the stage. The crowd's cheers pitch higher seeing their favorite hosts hand in hand. A whisper soft as a lover's embrace meets your ear as his lips meet your temple.

"In the impossible chance they agree, you don't plan on letting any of them go - do you?"

He knows you so well.

#yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere blurb #yandere headcanons #yandere oc #yandere insert #male yandere #Host my oc #yandere drabble #yandere god #tw yandere

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jasmines-library · 11 months

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hi :) can you write sam x reader where she lives with boys and while dean is in hell she and sam are alone together, and she is like the only person who can calm him down

Just a little complication

Summary: The request pretty much says it all. Hurt/comfort with a fluffy ending!

Warnings: Dean's death in s3, grief, guilt.

Word count: 1.2k

Note: Hey anon! I loved this request, thank you so much for asking for it. I'm so sorry that it took this long for me to get to it, but I hope you enjoy.

⛤ MASTERLIST ⛤

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

Dean Winchester was dead. There was no gentle way to say it really, not after you saw the way he was torn to shreds by the Hellhounds. His blank gaze would haunt your mind for a while, burnt permanently into your mind. It was no easy situation to understand, and the suddenness of the situation snatched away so much from you so quickly that it was disorientating. To lose a friend like that was like losing a part of yourself; it left you feeling incomplete. A fragment of who you were before. But it was a different story for Sam.

Sam was racked with grief. At first, he didn’t leave Bobby’s for days. He just locked himself away in his room, with his curtains drawn in his own artificial night, withdrawn into his own mind. The bags beneath his eyes were heavy and cumbersome and the pile of half-touched plates that had piled up in his room had reached a staggering number. But what was worse was the guilt that gnawed at his stomach. It clawed away at him and no matter how many times you or Bobby tried to reassure him that this wasn’t his fault, he refused to believe it.

Eventually as time moved and the days began to get longer and the flowers bloomed, Sam seemed to be getting better. He began to talk to you more, and returned slightly towards his old self. He was still struggling though, despite how much he tried to hide it. You could see the pain in his eyes that lacked the usual sparkle they had. He had also developed the habit of picking at his skin, or biting around his nails as he thought anxiously.

He was chewing at his thumbnail when you noticed something was particularly off. He was restless, constantly shifting his position on the couch or bouncing his leg up and down. Bobby was out of town, following up on a lead with Rufus, leaving you alone with Sam. You had planned to sit beside him and rest your head on his shoulder, but instead you noticed his distress.

“Sammy”? You furrowed your brow, watching him hesitantly.

He kept his gaze down, not daring to meet your gaze because he knew that the moment he looked up at your pity-riddled gaze, all those thoughts would come bubbling over and he wouldn’t be able to stop the river of tears that threatened to fall.

At his lack of response, you sat yourself beside him, moving one of Bobby’s couch pillows out of the way so that you could give him a little bit of space that you sensed he needed. You placed a hand gently on his leg, smoothing the denim of his jeans under your thumb.

“Sam?” You asked again gently, tilting your head towards him. “Talk to me.”

“I- I’m sorry.” He stuttered, standing up abruptly and beginning to walk off. “I can’t.”

His voice wavered as he turned briskly half walking, half running towards one of Bobby’s many alcoves. You followed closely behind him, not missing the way that his breathing got faster and faster, heaving in rugged and uneven rasps that were sure to hurt his lungs, but he seemingly didn’t care as he made his way through the house, weaving between the empty beer bottles and discarded books that no one had bothered to clean up. The way his hands shook made your heart clench as his body trembled. You called after him, trying to grasp his attention. When they finally broke through his hazy mind, he turned and you saw his tear stained cheeks and they way that the droplets had streamed down his face and beaded at his chin before splattering onto his shirt.

Your face softened. “Oh Sam…”

“It’s my fault.” He choked out through sobs. “If I- He did it for me. Because I wasn’t strong enough to finish him off. If I had just done it then I wouldn’t have died and then he wouldn’t be-”

“Sam. It’s not your fault. No one can stop Dean.”

Sam took a wavering breath, clenching and unclenching his fists, before turning away and swiping the contents of the desk to the floor, some things bounced and rolled across the floor, others shattered or landed with a heavy thud, but neither of you paid much notice as Sam continued to spiral.

“This is so stupid!” He said. “So stupid-”

He raised his hands again, but you took his wrists in his and held them still. Almost immediately at your touch he calmed down. His body still trembled as he cried silently. Your hand found itself wiping away the tears from his eyes as you hushed him.

“It’s okay Sammy, you’re okay. Deep breaths.”

You inhaled deeply, pulling the air into your lungs before releasing it again. With his hands in yours, he tried to follow the rhythm of your calmness until eventually it slowed to nearly normal pace.

“Good.” You smiled at him reassuringly. “You’re doing so good, baby.”

“I’m sorry…” He whispered as you sat him down on the plush chair in Bobby’s office.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I just - I miss him. So much…”

Your heart broke and he pulled you close to him. “I know you do, Sammy. I know. But its gonna be okay. We’ll figure this out. I promise.”

He sniffled and nodded soundly.

The two of you spent the rest of the evening snuggled up on the couch together, with you laid out across his chest. He clung to you desperately as the sun cast a golden hue over the window before dipping below the horizon to be replaced by the moon. The pair of you didn’t move for hours as you scrolled endlessly through TV channels and crappy movies that Sam secretly loved no matter how much he tried to hide the little smile that snuck up on him. It was something that he had needed desperately. Not so much a distraction, but a reminder that you were there for him and that things would be okay, eventually. Even if they took a little bit of working out like things do.

When Bobby bustled through the door, rifle slung over his shoulder, the house was silent and dark save for the Tv which was flickering with life. As he rounded the corner, he melted at the two of you wrapped up within each other's embrace. He was glad to see the way that Sam relaxed around you. It was then that he saw the mess of his house and after frowning, he just shook his head and laughed soundly with a sigh.

“Idjits.”

#supernatural #spn #supernatural x reader #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester #spn x reader #angst #hurt/comfort #guilt

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mothiir · 3 months

Text

all is fair in love and war, part i

In which our favourite diplomat faces an assassination attempt, and Sicarius and Roboute must address some feelings.

Cw: gore. No sex. That’s in the next part.

—

An Inquisitor is aboard the ship. An Inquisitor is aboard your ship, in your space, they are here. Fear pulses through you; the instinctive dread of a prey animal learning that the wolf is just around the corner. You have no firsthand experience of the Inquisition, but by the Emperor you have heard stories — colleagues who were threatened into taking part in the cruellest of traps, luring rebellious worlds into an accord, only for the Inquisition to burn the planet to cinders. Worse than this: you have heard stories of those who refused — lobotomised, servitorised, and not just them but their families, their friends, punishment that runs along the most tenuous of connections until everyone who heard the name of the would-be hero was dead, or wished they were. It cannot be chance that the Inquisitor has arrived now, when the Primarch has taken all of the battle-ready ships and most of the men to deal with a section of the webway benighted by daemons, coming to the assistance of their Eldar allies, a comradeship that you were instrumental in brokering. Aboard the diplomatic vessel the Hestia, with nothing more than a barebones crew, sheltered deep in Ultramar’s space you thought yourself safe. And you are — but only from external threats.

The rot within the Imperium still finds you here, apparently.

As the most senior civilian official here, you join the welcoming party, standing beside Captain Icarus, a now-retired guardsman who — having served decades on the frontline of the Imperium’s battles — knows the ways of the Inquisition all too well. There are no Astartes aboard the ship, only baseline humans — formidable foes, practiced veterans all — and yet as the Inquisitor and her retinue board your ship (the continent-sized bulk of her ship dwarfing your own, blotting out the stars) you find yourself possessed by the mad urge to gather the men beneath your non-existent wingspan, to shelter them.

“My lady Inquisitor,” you say, with a deep and respectful bow. “It is an honour —“

”Are you really the most senior diplomat here? Hm. I suppose you will do, until the senior officials arrive,” says the Inquisitor. Oh, what a promising start. What a truly excellent start. You straighten up immediately. “I am Kagha, of the Ordo Xenos. I was under the impression that the Lord Primarch was resident here and came to offer my services.”

You take a moment to gather yourself, trying your utmost to keep your eyes fixed on Kagha — and not her Deathwatch bodyguards, looming like obsidian-wrought gargoyles; nor the cherubim hovering behind her, fleshy abominations with blank, unsettling faces. The other woman is a little shorter than you, hard-featured and haughty, but possessed of an ageless, sharp beauty that speaks of those rejuve treatments the upper-classes so love. Her copper hair is swept up in an elaborate braided style, ornamented with gold skulls with glowing red eyes. You would wager your life’s savings on those hairpins being secret, deadly weapons. Her outfit is equally impressive: a long black leather coat, embroidered with a motif of heretics burning in a flaming pit while an impassive angelic figure watches; skin-tight trousers; an elaborate lacy blouse that closes at her throat with a ruby the size of your fist.

She’s wealthy. Well-connected. Experienced. And yet there is something not right; an itch under your skin.

You look to the Deathwatch marines, as briefly as possible. There are five of them — more than enough to annihilate the paltry crew here, should they wish — and all are helmeted. Two carry shields slung over their shoulders; huge oblongs of metal longer than you are tall, ornamented with strange milky stones, like opals, and yet somehow familiar —

Your blood turns to ice. Spirit Stones. The funerary custom of Craftworld Eldar is to keep the souls of their dead in these psychic tombs, thus preserving their fallen comrades, and keeping them safe from the endless maw of She Who Thirsts. To break a Spirit Stone is to send the soul contained within to eternal damnation; it is one of the cruellest fates you can imagine. And to decorate your weapons with them — and to bring these weapons to the ship of a diplomat you know brokers peace with the Eldar —

You know then what is happening, and you would laugh at the flagrant arrogance of the Inquisition, if you were not so fearful. They are so used to having nothing stand in their way — why would they be subtle about an assassination? You make a quick gesture with your right hand, keeping it pressed tight to your side. In battle-cant it means call the Primarch. Bring him back. We are in danger.

To Kagha, you beam, trying to appear every inch the young idiot she appears to think you are. “Would you care to join me in my quarters for tea? I can send a vox to my senior — he is currently aboard a ship in the Ultramarine’s fleet, and will answer as soon as he can.”

A bluff, of course. You have no senior. And yet Kagha — arrogant, stupid Kagha — nods tersely. “This is acceptable.”

—

You do not think it arrogant to claim that you are more that a little adept at the finer points of conversation — it is, after all, much of your job to be personable and engaging. Indeed, this talent is in such short supply across the Imperium that you sometimes wonder if you count as a prodigy, just because you can engage in small talk without threatening anyone, or going on a half hour diatribe about the Emperor’s endless benevolence. You once even made a Harlequin laugh! Yes, it was because you fell over — but it still counts.

And yet Kagha is a brick wall — no, that is an insult to masonry. She either does not answer your questions, or does so in a way that suggests she considers you the stupidest woman alive for even raising the point. Still, she is kind enough to pour the second round of tea, so you sip, and resign yourself to silence.

After around twenty minutes, the ring on your index finger — a nondescript circlet of silver, set with a tiny little sapphire — tightens minutely. Thank goodness for that. You offer Kagha a bright smile.

“If I were you,” you say. “I would have a word with your sources.”

Her brow furrows. “Excuse me?”

”Well — they’re clearly quite out of date. I did have a superior diplomat overseeing my work here — her name was Sara Buchanan, and she was wonderful — but she returned six months ago to be with her grandchildren. I’ve been running the show here ever since.”

Kagha’s brow furrows. “If you are suggesting —“

“I am not suggesting. I am telling. Do you really think you are the first member of your Order to come calling to the Primarch’s fleet, thinking that they can disrupt our mission here? Granted, you are the first one to approach myself directly — but we know your sort. The arrogance of you! You’d see the Imperium remain steeped in shadow and ignorance if it kept your position safe.”

Genuine anger bleeds into your voice, and your throat tightens. You cough into your hand, cursing the sudden flare-up of — what? Allergies? Gunshots echo outside; lasgun facing lasgun. The Primarch has returned home, and is not best pleased with what he finds.

Kagha’s lips skin back, showing her teeth. “You stupid xenos loving bitch — you have no idea what you are doing here.”

”I know exactly what I am doing here. Following my Lord Primarch’s orders. You are the heretic who claims to know better than the son of the God-Emperor —“ you break off into another bout of coughing, this time more strenuous. It feels like something is clawing up your throat. The door to your chambers crashes open, Cato Sicarius storming in, wreathed in smoke, spattered with blood.

“Careful!” you yell out at the gunfight outside. “Don’t break the stones on the shields!”

”We know that,” Sicarius snaps at you. “We are well-aware of the Deathwatch’s tactics —“

Whatever he was about to say is amputated as you double over and vomit. A dark grainy substance puddles at your feet, like recaf-grounds. Behind you, Kagha sniggers.

“So, so clever — but didn’t think to check the tea, did you?”

Oh for the love of the Emperor’s left bollock — you curse your oversight. She’d poured the tea. Ample time to slip poison into it, even though you had been watching her the whole time, because Inquisitors are nothing if not swift with their petty, lethal blows. You choke on another upsurge of bile, pain now radiating from your stomach, and collapse onto the floor.

The next two things happen so swiftly as to be synchronous. Kagha reaches for her hairpin, presumably to activate some kind of suicide device, and Sicarius leaps towards her. Before she can complete whatever last-ditch resort she was planning, Sicarius has flipped her upside down, holding one scrawny ankle in each of his gauntleted hands. Kagha shrieks in astonishment — a shriek that soon turns to a wordless, senseless wail of agony as the Astartes moves his forearms, just a little, and rips her in half. Gore showers him, and you avert your eyes, but you can still hear the wet slop of organs falling to the ground in a bloody puddle; the popping and breaking of bones, rent apart like matchsticks.

“That is my woman,” growls Sicarius — or, at least, you think he does. The world is starting to blur at the edges; the pain is receding — or perhaps you are receding, falling away into the dark. Your last image is of Sicarius bending down to you, reaching out. And then it is all black, as black as the void between stars.

—

You blink awake to cool white light, and soft white linen. For an absurd moment you think you’ve perished, and this is the Emperor’s rest — an endless bed, where you can sleep as much as you wish (sleep being the one resource you were always so scarce of).

Then —

“Ah, the wench awakes. Good. I was getting sick of looking at your sleeping face.”

Cato Sicarius sits by your bed, a paperback book open on his knee. The title reads Duty and Love: The Steamy Romance of a Kriegsman and a Sister of Battle — but before you can comment on it, he’s whisked it away, hiding it in one of his armour’s many compartments.

”How long — how long has it been?”

Your voice is rough; your throat aches. Sicarius tosses you a canteen of water.

It’s metal. It’s Space Marine sized. You can’t catch it; it hits you in the chest and bounces off, leaving another bruise to deal with.

“Next time, catch better.”

You have no idea how to respond to that. With shaking hands, you unscrew the lid and gulp at the icy water.

“The poison ate through your oesophagus,” says Sicarius, conversationally. “Just as well it spared your tongue — a mute diplomat is no use to anyone, and we would have had to get someone new aboard. Can’t be doing with that.”

Perhaps it is your drug-induced delirium, but you smile at him. “Are you saying you’d miss me?”

”Absolutely not. Give me that.”

He snatches the canteen back, spilling water over you both. It’s his canteen. There’s a jug of water on your bedside table, and he gave you his canteen — but before you can dwell on that , Sicarius is back to grumbling.

“We had to divert our entire mission because of you. Lord Gulliman was not best pleased that the Ordo Xenos was causing trouble for him and his, so we had to go halfway across the galaxy to Kagha’s home base. He’s spent the last five days putting every Inquisitor he can find to the sword. Burned a couple of planets that were still perfectly useful just because they wouldn’t tell us what we needed to know.”

There is far too much there for your sluggish brain to process. You manage: “Five days?”

”Yes. You’ve been out for six. That poison almost killed you. It didn’t. Fortunately.”

You stare down at your hands. They are almost as pale as the sheets: sunless, drained. “And the Primarch —?”

As if in answer to your question, the door opens, and Roboute himself enters. You immediately try to greet him properly — stand, curtesy, even salute — but your body won’t obey, and you just manage to tangle yourself up in your sheets, tumbling from the bed. The Primarch catches you before you hit the ground, swaddling you up in your linen like a newborn babe, settling you back onto the bed. His armour is tarnished, swathes of it stained rusty with old blood, and he reeks of smoke. Deep shadows hang under his eyes. He looks like he has come fresh from the battlefield.

“There,” he says. “Better? Glad to see you with us.”

Your arms are pinned to your sides, which is just as well, since you suddenly want to stroke his tired brow, comb your fingers through his hair.

Roboute looks over at Sicarius. “Thank you for your watch, brother.” To you, he adds: “Sicarius stayed —“

”Here because I was ordered to, and now I must leave to attend to proper business,” says Sicarius, all in a rush.

Gulliman stares at him. And stares at him. Then looks at you. Then back at Sicarius.

“…is that really what you want to say,” he says, in a tone of infinite, weary patience. “Really. After all this. That’s your parting riposte.”

Sicarius stands up straight, throwing up a parade-ground salute.

“I fulfilled your orders, my lord. Watched her for the five days and nights. But now I have to return to my battle brothers for my actual purpose.”

Gulliman stares at him for another long, long moment. You twitch in the cocoon that Gulliman has forced you into, feeling deeply awkward but not entirely sure why.

“Last chance,” says Gulliman. Sicarius frowns.

“Not sure what else I should say, Lord Father.”

”Right,” says Gulliman, and sighs, turning back to you. He tucks you in more firmly — clearly intending it to be a comforting gesture, but managing to strait-jacket you to the point where you think your fingers are going numb. “Theoretical: the potential of losing you drove me to depths of fury that I had not felt in quite some time. This was in part due to the Inquisitor’s meddling, but largely to do with the prospect of not having you by my side.”

He strokes your hair gently.

”Practical: when you are well enough to stand, you will come to my quarters and we will have nice non-poisoned tea. And we can talk. And enjoy one another’s company.”

You squeak. “S-sounds like an excellent strategy, my lord. Yes. Please. Would like to play my part for you and the Legion and —“

”Perhaps not the entire Legion,” says Gulliman. “Not yet, anyway. Oh, and Sicarius? Why are you still here?”

Sicarius’ face is frozen in a rictus of pure, delirious rage. “No — no reason at all Lord Primarch. I will…I will take my leave.”

No one can say Gulliman did not give his idiot son a chance. He leans forward and kisses you gently on the forehead, pausing to inhale the scent of air. It smells of home.

#Gulliman/reader #sicarius/reader #big space men bad with feelings #cato sicarius/reader #cuck cato

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momodita · 6 months

Text

snapshots. [—dazai osamu]

TAGS / WARNINGS: male reader, specific clothing (suit), dazai being dazai, barely suggestive WC: 1,000 NOTE: even though this was written with male readers in mind, there are no pronouns used and can read as gender neutral!

✗ MINORS / AGELESS / BLANK BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.

“Need some help?”

You muffle the swear, but not the pained noise that escapes as your leg smacks the counter. Teeth clenched, you hunch over the sink, clutching your throbbing knee before gathering yourself to glare at the intruder.

“Where’s Atsushi.”

“Surprised?” Dazai trills, volume surprisingly controlled for how loud you know him to be. His lofty hum echoes—you grimace as he fills the precious little space left in the bathroom. “Atsushi-kun got sent on an assignment. He’ll be gone for a while.”

“And he entrusted you to help me instead?” you snark, a touch mean knowing the thickness of his skin. Turning your back on him never feels safe—at least with the mirror, you’re not completely vulnerable. “I would’ve thought he’d ask someone a little more reliable. Like Kunikida-san.”

“Oh! You wound me!” Dazai exclaims, hand flying up to press against his forehead. He saunters forward with a dramatic lean. “And here I thought you might need me to lend you a hand,” he says, flourishes with a grin, gaze lingering meaningfully on your tie.

Your nose wrinkles. “No thanks.”

Dazai merely tuts—undeterred by the blatant dismissal—leaning on the counter to watch you fumble.

“If it were Kunikida-kun here,” he says, low and amused, stoking the burn of irritation at the back of your throat, “He would’ve made you start over. In seiza to boot.”

You shudder imagining it. “No one will notice if it’s bad. It’s just a stupid tie.” The excuse doesn’t burn nearly as much as his huffing laugh, something quiet that makes the muscle under your eye twitch. Maybe you should forgo the tie, after all.

“Now, now, don’t say that,” he sings—gleeful, like he’s sitting on the punchline of a joke. “It won’t take long.” His hand opens for you, expectant. “Besides,” Dazai says, “seems like you really want this meeting to go well.” He speaks plainly enough, but you’ve no confidence to decipher any double entendre while operating under several layers yourself.

Against the sticky apprehension licking your ribs, you let him: slipping the tie from your shoulders and lowering it onto his palm. Not for the first time, his presence raises the fine hairs on your nape.

He’s an indomitable presence behind you. You’re sure he can’t see the goosebumps erupting along your arms, but the little quiet chuckle by your ear makes you think he knows of their existence.

Dazai lays the tie across your nape. Drapes it down your front and adjusts the two ends with an impish, plucking touch. You watch his hands in the mirror. It occurs to you, now, that as you are—trapped between him and his mirror image—there’s nowhere to run. In the silence, your mouth purses, twitching with the pressure to break the tension—anything to release the buzz of adrenaline clogging your throat.

“Don’t tie it too tight,” you say haltingly, blood rushing to your face. “I’ll choke.”

Dazai, humming, merely smiles. You watch his eyes narrow with it in the mirror, how he loops and pulls and twists the fabric—almost mesmerized by the knot coming neatly together in his fingers: long and pale—a sharp contrast to the matte black of your suit and dress shirt.

His expression drops as he works. It’s a rare moment where it holds no fallacies, no comedic lilt of his brow or mouth. Your chin twitches when he wiggles the knot to a tight finish, uses both hands to slide it up against the base of your throat.

You swallow, then—not meaning to—and drop your eyes to the faucet. Dazai drags the tie between his fingers, smoothing the fabric with a slow motion of his arm. You can’t stop the tightness in your chest—as if his hands were sliding all over you.

“Dazai-san.” His name gets pulled from your throat like teeth, hand twitching, wanting to snatch the tie from his fingers. His presence is a weight on your shoulders—heat at your back, crawling up your throat all the way down your calves, the tips of your fingers, as you tease the idea of shoving him away. Forcibly relaxing your aching jaw.

Your eyes dart up to meet his in the mirror. It’s a mistake. For one dizzying breath, his head tips—just a fraction, small enough that you blink and are no long sure it even happened—and the gleam in his eyes is gone, swallowed by the shadow of his fringe. You don’t need the subtle press of his thumb to know your skin has gone clammy.

But then he blinks, and the moment passes. He splays his hands out as if revealing a surprise, grin full of teeth.

“See? Not too bad, wouldn’t you agree? Kunikida-kun would’ve had you make one hundred knots.” Despite the obvious playfulness of his voice, it does little to quell the blood rushing in your ears. His hands descend upon your shoulders, a gesture somehow more threatening than when his fingers had been kissing distance from your throat. “And his lectures take forever.”

“Aren’t you just saying that because you’re the one he lectures the most?” you ask. “That’s why no one takes you seriously, Dazai-san.”

His eyes narrow with a smile—the familiar stretch of it triggering your flight impulse. You manually reset your footing to rid yourself of the feeling.

“Maybe they should,” he suggests, and reaches for your throat. Your blood freezes, but all he does is flip down your collar, tucking the tie under the starched fabric. “I’m quite the hidden gem.”

Muffled laughter outside the door is just the remedy you need to reset.

“How egotistical of you,” you reply flatly, and sigh. “Are you done?”

“Of course, of course.” Dazai waves. “Safe travels.”

“Thanks,” you mumble. He ducks out of the bathroom to engage with Kunikida, putting himself directly into the blond’s verbal line of fire.

And you, alone, dip fingers inside your suit pocket to find a familiar plastic lump.

#dazai osamu x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs fic #bsd x reader #bsd fic #reader insert #snapshot fic #male reader #sorry for the character to those who are #unfamiliar w bsd SJKDHFKHSJ #also this fic could've so easily turned into nsft but i was GOOD and i RESTRAINED MYSELF #momodita fic

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harque · 6 months

Text

" vows "

summary ੭୧ 0.8k — SFW “innocent” prince kunikuzushi, only son of the almighty shogun, is desperate to overthrow his mother after being abandoned. he ends up marrying the leader of an enemy nation, who promises to help him get his revenge.

features — gn!reader, kingdom! au (?), reader in a suit, enemies and lovers, manipulation, mild angst, murder mention, kuni's planet sized ego (we love to see it)

As Kunikuzushi gazed into the vanity mirror, mindlessly smoothing invisible creases from his flowing veil of purple tulle, he could hardly bring himself to believe that the vision of beauty staring impassively back was his reflection. His hair was perfectly arranged, his makeup was precise, and if he tilted his head the right way his eyelashes would catch the candlelight and cast a sparkling shadow across his cheeks.

With an expert touch, he straightens to apply the tiniest amount of blush to the outside of his eyes, a blossom of color to freshen his ghostly complexion. Then, he adjusted his narrow lips—adopting a look of serenity closely resembling his Mother's calm, composed frown.

(Where was the carefree boy who loved craft and dance more than anything in the world? When had he been replaced by a man with ancient eyes?)

He'd been molded into a perfect copy of her.

Kunikuzushi's passive expression twisted into something between rage and disgust at the sight. He wished his reflection showed someone else. Anyone else.

“You know, you look a little pale, doll,” came a voice from behind, and he turned to see you leaning in the doorway. “If you're getting cold feet, it's not too late to change your mind.”

“I'm fine,” Kunikuzushi huffs dismissively, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. The suit you're wearing is immaculately clean and well tailored—the expensive fabric drapes tastefully over your figure, demanding attention. (It's ridiculous how well it fits you.)

“Don't you have somewhere else to be right now?” He knows his voice sounds more sour than he intends, but he can't help it. You annoy him.

“Oh please,” you scoff, brushing past the door frame. “I'm just here to check up on you, I thought you might need some company.” He watches you casually saunter over to him, your footsteps making quiet clicks against the marble flooring.

“I don't.” He answers flatly. However, he already resigned himself to your presence, shifting to make room for you on the plush bench. You sit, smiling, taking a moment to observe him.

His simple, yet elegant white kariginu robe fit snugly, but it was the dark purple veil embroidered with flowers that gave him an air of softness. You don't think it was supposed to look gorgeous, but he'd always been pretty, it was hard not to notice.

Kunikuzushi's gaze was now directed at the wall, carefully blank and eying decorations, as if he's trying to avoid letting you see any hint of feeling.

Cute. If he could trust you fully, he wouldn't be able to keep his eyes off you.

“I'm sure you do, no need for all the attitude.” You lean your shoulder against his, the scent of your fragrance filling the space between you. His nose wrinkles, trying not to inhale too deeply.

“Besides,” you say, brightening your tone. “I do have another reason for visiting! The Shogun just sent a letter inviting us to the capital.” Kunikuzushi whipped around to give you an incredulous look.

This is the opportunity he's been waiting for, after all—the chance to eliminate his mother in a public setting.

You've already mapped the assassination out together very thoroughly (so precisely to the point where every detail was accounted for). However, you also know there is a slim opportunity to seize the throne after. He wasn't thinking about that right now, but with a little nudge he was sure to pick up on the rest.

“She wants to officially recognize our union with a celebration. I think we should go.” You stand and pull him up with you, flitting past the vanity, twirling him out into the empty space as if he was your personal puppet.

“The entire empire will be there for us. They'll applaud the bravery of their precious prince for his sacrifice... marrying a monster to spare them from war.”

When you tug him back in, he automatically rests his free hand on your waist. You adapted easily, splaying your opposite hand over his shoulder. There was something undeniably hopeful in those dark eyes of his, a glimmer of greed he could try to choke down all he wants, but you know him too well to ever truly forget.

Kunikuzushi guides you in a proper dance, the veil swaying behind him with enviable grace.

“...they'll be cheering for her too, of course. The poor citizens will believe it was all her idea.” You went on, sounding wistful. “Soon, they'll have no choice but to see she is nothing but a pathetic imitation of a person; a shadow designed to deceive. They deserve someone real.”

You feel his delicate hand pressing into the small of your back as he makes a particularly sharp turn, leading you into a dip.

“You can be real. What do you think, doll?” The words slip from your tongue, but you don't even feel it.

“I think,” he finally responds, leaning close enough so his breath ghosted against your lips, “you should stop calling me that. I'm not a doll.”

“I never said you were,” you amended, tilting your head. “It's a term of endearment. What would you like me to call you instead?”

His heartbeat is pounding so forcefully that you can almost feel his pulse through your own chest.

“Lord,” he says.

That was the only confirmation you need. He's so eager, you find it sweet that he already confidently claims the title. Oh, the things you do for him…

“Fine,” your smile widens. “If you insist, my lord.”

#✦﹐ fics #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #kunikuzushi x reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche angst #why does he have so many names mods fix this glitch!!!!

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kookygranger · 7 months

Text

Sparks Fly

Ghost!Steve Harrington x Witch!Reader

Series Masterlist

700 words

You rub the pinched spot in your lower back, waiting for the wheat pack in your microwave to finish heating up as you stare at the half-packed boxes and all the little bits and pieces that still need to be wrapped and boxed up.

“I can help.”

His voice makes you jump, still not used to one outside your head interrupting your space. You turn and watch him over your shoulder, arms crossed and biceps squished under his tight striped polo.

“Go on then.”

His eyes flicker towards you, wavering in his unfounded confidence before he walks to your desk. His hand stretches out, veins that seem to become clearer every day moving under skin that could easily pass for sun-kissed and animated, if anyone else could see him. It flexes for a moment above a ceramic teapot, hesitating before he makes a grabbing motion that passes right through it.

You click the side of your cheek, “Close one,” and move back to the kitchen when you hear the beep of the microwave, missing the way Steve’s shoulders deflate. You can feel his presence behind you as you press the heat into your lower back, sighing with relief.

“So uh, why is it you’re leaving again? This place really…fits you.”

You turn around, watching him take in all the tweaks of personality around your kitchen with a shoulder to the doorframe.

“Some of the coven is parting ways, and I sided with Rhi and her vampire lover. I can’t stay here with a good conscience, besides,” you shrug as you place a kettle over the stove, “it’s just stuff. It can all come with me.”

Steve hums, and you turn back towards him.

“What did that noise mean?”

“Nothin’” he shrugs, “Just I was wondering,” his hazel eyes burrow into your soul, making you squirm under his gaze, “can I come with you?” He shifts at the ill-hidden shock on your face.

“You want to come with me? Shouldn’t you be,” you waved your hand in the air, “moving to the next place? I thought you talked to Rhi?”

“I did. She told me to stop freaking you out and let the light consume me or something.”

“So?”

“I don’t want to. I wanna stay with you.”

You frown, “Oh.”

“Unless you don’t want me to,” he clears his throat. “I guess I could…go.”

You shake your head, “No, I mean–if you want to stay, you can. It’s your…afterlife.”

“And go with you?”

“If it’s what you want?”

“What do you want?”

You take a deep breath, your chest puffing before exhaling slowly. “I’ve almost gotten used to your…” warmth, “commentary.” He smirks and your eyes drift to the permanent shadow of fuzz that frames his pink lips. You wonder if he regrets not shaving on the day of his death.

“So, I’m coming with you?” You shrug in a non-committal yes, and his face morphs into a frown, “How do I do that?”

You roll your eyes, moving to grab a mug out of the cupboard as the water begins to boil. “Figure it out, ghost boy.” You can feel his smile without needing to see it, a tingle spreading down your spine in its wake every time.

***

The familiar warmth was the first thing you’d noticed when you’d walked into your new apartment, following a trail through to the living room until you came across his ethereal form, more real than ever, leaning against the wall. Arms and feet casually crossed with that smug smile plastered on his face.

“Found ya.”

It was closer to the city, your new place. An easier route to the nightlife and music scene but entirely lacking in the coating of magic that had been left over the hundreds of years you’d spent in the house situated in the coven’s community. It was a blank canvas, but you’d sprinkle some of that cosmic energy into the space in no time.

You groan as your back clicks, stretching out another day of moving pains and surveying your progress. You’d gotten the kitchen and essentials unpacked in one day, just books, records, frames and crystals left.

“Alright, I’m ordering takeout for dinner.” It was weird. No longer just talking to yourself. Feeling another presence in your space.

His hand reaches out in reflex, motioning to squeeze your arm, and you feel a hot point of contact, flinching at the zap that travels through your arm. Steve frowns, staring at where his hand had touched you, then looks back up at you, mirroring your look of shock.

“What the hell was that?”

#steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #ghost!steve harrington #witch!reader #stranger things fanfiction #she writes

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giggle-bee · 9 months

Text

Triple Threat (Squealing Santa 2023!)

Hi, @hakurei-k, I'm your Santa for this year! Sorry this is a little late, but I hope you still enjoy it! It was a challenging prompt since I don't typically write intense stuff with multiple lers, but it was a fun fic to do, and I'm so happy I got you!! I also want to thank @squealing-santa, Hypah, for being such an amazing host!! Couldn't have done it without you, thank you for keeping the tradition alive!

(Ler!Barbatos, Ler!Solomon, Ler!Simeon, Lee!MC)

Warnings: pranks, suprise tickles

Summary: Barbatos has a day off but doesn't know how to spend it. How better to than with you? Mediating a prank war wasn't in the plans, though.

Word Count: 1.8k

When Diavolo had first approached Barbatos about taking the day off, he was against the idea. “My Lord, the New Year’s celebration is not far away. The castle must be prepared for guests, there is much work to be done-” “Exactly my thoughts! You’ve been working tirelessly, my friend, you deserve some time to yourself. It’s my castle, I want to have part in the decorating! Besides, I know you’ve been keeping an eye on that new tea house. Take the day and relax, Barbatos.”

Diavolo patted him on the back and left Barbatos standing in his office, lost for words and with a blank mind for the first time in a while. For anyone else, the opportunity would be a blessing, to leave your duties behind and pay attention to the parts of your life neglected. All Barbatos could think about was the castle in a state of disarray, clashing colors, decorations strewn haphazardly about the place, anything less than perfect was not acceptable.

However, Diavolo’s pout if he figured out Barbatos was still working during his break was too heartbreaking to think about. Barbatos sighed, pulling out his DDD and pulling up his messages with you.

Barbatos MC, would you like to join me at Witch’s Brew this afternoon? My schedule has been cleared.

MC Oh? Is that the new tea place across from Majolish? I would love to!

Barbatos Alright. See you at noon.

Witch’s Brew was a quaint shop that sold both loose leaf teas, tea sets, and delicious desserts. To a demon like Barbatos, it was heaven. The aroma of dried flowers and warmth tickled his nose as he opened the door, sitting down at a small table with a candle in the middle. It was peaceful here, soft music playing over the speakers and setting a light ambience to the space. Ordering some tea for the both of you would be his first order of business. The fragrant notes of hibiscus and lemon called to him from behind the counter, he would bring it back to the table piping hot and waiting.

A smile came across his lips as he imagined you taking the first sip, your eyes lighting up at the sweet flavor- rich and floral with a hint of tart to balance it. The thought was almost as sweet as you were. The tinkling of the doorbell made Barbatos glance up hopefully from his cup, eyes alight when he saw you. But you weren’t carefree and jubilant as usual. He picked up on the nervous glances you were sending around the room, your hesitant steps towards the table, and most of all, you hadn’t greeted him with so much as a smile yet. Quite unusual.

“Ah, hello Barbatos! Sorry I’m late,” you whispered, smoothing your clothes and sitting in the chair he pulled out for you. The demon cocked an eyebrow at your behavior, instantly analyzing your expression. He knew something was up.

“Would you like to tell me what is obviously bothering you? You look like someone is out to get you.”

“Ahaha… well…” You scratched your arm, averting your gaze and peering down into the teacup. “You could say that.” You chose to elaborate on the prank war currently going on in Purgatory Hall, the one you had started a week ago. Luke had voted on staying out of things, which meant you, Solomon, and Simeon would have to prank amongst yourselves.

Pulling out all the stops this morning, you had set up several pillows to fall onto Simeon’s head, covering him in feathers. You had swiped one of Solomon’s singing potions earlier in the week and mixed it into a batch of cookies, which had him singing curses for the next hour. You had found these harmless pranks extremely funny, but both Solomon and Simeon were sure to get you back.

“So that’s why I have to stay vigilant! They could be anywhere, Barbatos, I have to keep a lookout,” you explained, taking a sip of your tea. The flavor was complex and delicate, a nice reprieve from the chaos going on with your friends. You melted into the warm drink, nodding at the teapot, “This was a good pick, thank you for letting me try it!”

Barbatos shook his head with a fond smile. He knew you were “I believe tea is better when shared in good company, so it’s my pleasure.” Pouring you two another cup, he thought on your predicament. If Solomon and Simeon were working together, it could spell disaster for everyone in Purgatory Hall.

Humming in thought, Barbatos finished his tea and set the cup down gently onto a saucer. “Can I escort you back? Like I said, my schedule is clear for the day, so it would be no trouble. That way, you won’t have to worry about anything on your way,” he offered. Barbatos knew they would never do anything to harm you, but if it would make you feel better, it was worth it.

You perked up, relief washing over your face. “I would appreciate it, those two like to scare me as much as it is.”

Taking a dessert to go, you and Barbatos left the teahouse and started the journey back to the House of Lamentation. On the way, you talked about everything from next year’s classes to Satan’s newest cat adoption antics. Barbatos felt at ease talking to you, as he always did. His worries for the celebration faded with every step as he let you take the wheel of the conversation. Before you knew it, you two were on the doorstep.

“Thank you for walking me here, Barbs. We need to do this again sometime!” You opened the door and were about to wave goodbye when two arms pulled you into the foyer. Barbatos quickly moved inside, surprised by the sight that greeted him.

Solomon and Simeon had trapped you in their arms, encircling you like twin felines playing a game of cat and mouse. Solomon’s deadly smirk was something you knew all too well, paired with Simeon’s laughing eyes, they had been out to get you from the start. “You fell right into our trap, MC~” Simeon purred in your ear, watching your eyes flit between the trio of people in the room. Well, one human, one angel, and one demon. The mischievous fire in Solomon’s eyes appeared anything *but* human to you in this moment.

Solomon looked to the demon at the door, “What do you think is a fitting punishment for our friend here, Barbatos?”

Barbatos slowly stepped forward until he was in front of you three, assessing the situation. “Seeing as they’ve confessed their transgressions to me already, I believe something… like this will suffice,” Barbatos reasoned, grinning at your shocked face.

“Barbatos! You’re supposed to be on my side- HEY!” Barbatos wormed his hand between you and Simeon to give your side a squeeze, making you curl into Solomon. Simeon started to snicker at the idea, using his free hand to scribble around your neck while Solomon’s smile grew wolfish. “I think that’s a great idea, don’t you think so, MC?”

You were trying not to react to Simeon’s gentle scribbles, your cheeks puffing out and your lips pouting to hide your smile. “N-no! Not a great idea! Barbatos- help me!”

Raising an eyebrow, the demon tilted his head to the side, “You want me to help? Alright, I can manage that. After all, I have no obligations today, I can spend as much time as I want here.”

Barbatos latched onto your sides, kneading into them with sudden speed and vigor that you weren’t prepared for. Your straight faced facade went flying out the window as you tried to wiggle away from the tickles to no avail. Solomon and Simeon seemed to have the same idea, the angel’s fingers finding a home in your armpits and Solomon’s squeezing at your hipbones. “WHAHAHAIT! NOhOHoO!”

You had endured tickle attacks from all three of them separately, but together, the trio was insufferably good at reducing you to a laughing fit. They continued to scribble and poke all over your worst spots, Simeon finding a good spot on your lower tummy that almost sent you backwards. Every time you got used to something, one of them would move, sending you into giggles all over again.

“I almost forgot how ticklish they are! Solomon, keep that up,” Simeon laughed with delight at how you squirmed away from Solomon’s evil hands that were currently chasing your ribs. “If I were you, I would stay still- it would be done a looooot faster!” Solomon chirped from your left, tazing your ribs and making you fall into Barbatos’s waiting arms.

“Your laugh is almost as sweet as the tea, you know,” Barbatos whispered quietly, kneading into your lower back and sides, chuckling when you tried to pull away with a blush. Simeon gasped and excitedly pulled you away, hugging you tight against his chest.

“Theres this thing I used to do to Luci when he would misbehave, let me show you!” He closed his eyes and you felt invisible feathers gliding across your ears and neck, making you scrunch up. The feathers seemed to reach all of your worst spots, soft but they tickled like hell. When you felt one graze the bottom of your foot, you squeaked in surprise, how was this even possible? Simeon’s laugh sounded like bells, contrasting with your loud and squealy one. “I cAhAHaAHaN’t! PlEHehAHeaSe!”

He slowed down the feathers of his wings to softly stroke up and down your arms, letting you collapse into him. Solomon ruffled your hair, “You all tired out? I think it’s payback for making me sing through all of breakfast. Simeon looked like a fancy chicken this morning,” he laughed. Simeon rolled his eyes, “Did you learn your lesson, MC? Never mess with Purgatory Hall, or you’ll awaken the tickle monsters that live there!” He tapped your nose, taking note of your lingering smile and flushed cheeks. He grinned and gave you a hug, releasing you.

Barbatos had his hands behind his back, almost like he hadn’t contributed to your ticklish demise. “The cake is still outside, would you like me to bring it in?” His sly smirk didn’t go unnoticed, you nodded, rolling your eyes. “You were supposed to help me!”

“I never said I would help you. Besides, I think you deserved a little prank back for the ones you performed,” he noted, bringing the slice of matcha cake inside.

With a sigh, you took the bag, holding out the delectable sweet. “How about a truce? Do you guys wanna split this?” All three of them nodded, causing you to smile. As you made your way towards the den, Barbatos concluded that his day off was a day well spent.

#squealing santa 2k23 #ss2k23 #obey me tickles #obey me tickle fic #ler!barbatos #ler!solomon #ler!simeon #lee!mc #lee!reader #honey #bee writes

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armandisdaddy · 3 months

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Just One Night

Pairing: Armand x Fem!Reader (POC)

Content|Warning: ADULTS ONLY , stalking, predator n prey, p in v penetration, fingering, cunnilingus, feeding (vampires), mentions of blood.

Summary: You’ve caught the attention of The Vampire Armand. He finds himself interested in you…Will one night with you satisfy him?

It was your third weekend at the bar, your third night seeing a couple sitting at the same bar as you. One with his attention on another young man and the other looking directly at you. He occasionally looked away to check on his lover and would turn away in pain as it would seem. You kept your glass in your hand uncomfortably shifting in your seat as those eyes that looked like glowing embers pierced into your soul. You looked away again drinking down the last gulp of your wine only to be startled when you see the same man directly beside you. You took a deep breath turning to see his face a bit clearer he was beautiful, alluring, and angelic you were frozen in your seat should you speak? He had already beaten you to it. “Pardon my staring, but you look amazing tonight.” You were still in shock so for a while what he said did not register. “Er…petite dame…are you ill?” You jumped out of your trance still finding yourself lost for words. “Ill? oh…oh no I just wasn’t expecting to see you here…so close.” He smirked only for a second before that same blank look settled on his face again. “Forgive me..I seemed to have lost my partner to another tonight and you looked familiar you’ve been here before…yes?” You nod slowly forgetting your glass was empty but before you could get the bartender’s attention the mysterious stranger had already gotten a bottle of the wine you were drinking and poured you a glass. “H-how…how did you know what I was drinking?” He chuckled to himself knowingly and seemed to brush off your question. “I am Armand…your name…Miss?” He was so formal…so polite…it was weird but you kind of liked it. Your train of thought was off track again. “Oh um…y/n…” he listened attentively and smiled at your name. “It is unique…perfect for a unique beauty such as yourself.” You blushed subconsciously. “Thank you…”

He eyes filled with curiosity while he watched the way your chest lifted and fell or the thrumming of your heart the way its steady beat quickened the moment he made contact with you and how it had not stopped since. “You are afraid?” His held tilted slightly and you hesitated to answer. “No…I just feel like I’ve seen you before…it’s becoming a little too coincidental…” he smiled letting his tongue run over his teeth. “Coincidental? No…you have seen me before….” He spoke in a hushed tone in which he pulled himself closer to you his breath hitting your neck. “Yes you’ve seen me here…but I find that you enjoy going to the local book store, getting a crescent and coffee at the nearby cafe…and then here every weekend…” Was he stalking you…he smiled listening to the rapid beating of your heart his eyes watching the pulse in your neck. His fangs slowly extended involuntarily, but he hid them away quickly. “I um need to get some air…excuse me..” You were feeling dizzy and lightheaded…confused. You raced out of the door and began to hyperventilate looking behind you and you saw no one there so you decided it was time to go home. Finding your car you fumbled with your keys, but steadied your hand and quickly opened the door. Hopping inside you hightailed it home. Finally, in your safe space you exhaled it felt like you had been holding your breath since he approached you at the bar. It was pitch black in your apartment; quiet. You took this time to go take a shower and wash off this night.

Unbeknownst to you a stranger was watching your every movement. He watched the way your hands ran over your body as the water ran over every curve of your frame. He bit his lips as he laid in waiting not wishing to let his presence be known just yet. “Fascinating..” he thought to himself. He hadn’t found himself so intrigued by another being other than Louis and here you were taking up even that space within his mind. Since the first time he smelled your scent, saw you face, saw you smile, heard you laugh..he was becoming obsessed. After your shower you walked into your room which was still pitch black but the silhouette of another seemed to float within the corner. You were understandably startled and took a step back. Quickly turning the lamp on you saw who this uninvited guest was… “What are you doing here?” You actually saw him floating there his head tilted like it had before his eyes looking at your body wrapped in a towel. “I…am fascinated by you…and you left…I wanted to continue our talk.” You took another step back toward the door and he levitated further and with a swift movement his hand you were frozen in place and just as fast as you were stop in your tracks he sat you down on your bed before unfreezing you. “Please…do not be afraid…I find myself wanting you…desiring you…I’ve been with Louis for quite sometime and well he’s becoming bored with me. It’s putting a strain on our companionship and in my lonliness I found you…forgive me for following your day to day routine…but your beauty is captivating.”

His cold hand caressed your jawline and you shrunk away from it. His other hand grabbed your damp thigh and squeezed softly trying not to break you. You were after all so fragile. You wanted to run but there wasn’t a point…he was obviously not human..something else. He listened to the terrified beating of your heart and placed the hand that was on your thigh onto your chest. “I promise I do not wish to harm you…I just want a night with you….grant me that…I need to feel something other than sadness.” His pleading eyes and his soft voice made your heart calm a bit. He smiled at that and moved closer to you. “Just one night?” you asked reluctantly. He nodded in reassurance. “May I ask what you are?” you looked into his eyes curiosity within them. “I am a vampire…I do wish to feed on you while we…” You were a bit shocked but it did make sense. “Okay..you may do as you wish…just don’t kill me please.” He chuckled at the last request and held onto your hips pulling you closer. His cold kisses sent chills through your warm skin and caused you to shiver occasionally. He looked into your eyes and kissed your full lips. You responded back with a soft moan and began to kiss him back. He slowly took his shirt and removed the towel that hid you away from him. Those amber hues slowly took in your frame..curvaceous and soft. He sighed and crashed his lips into yours again his hands caressing your skin made you put an arch in your back. Armand took a hold of your wrist and placed sweet kisses along the pulse point. “May I?” you nodded softly a bit scared but you had already gotten this far. His free hands fingers found their way in between your legs and slipped between the slit of your cunt finding that sweet bundle of nerves and began to rub in circles while he widened his mouth and extended his fangs letting them sink into your wrist. You winced in pain and moaned in pleasure all at once. That excited him and his found a place between your legs. He moaned at the taste of your blood so sweet, full of beautiful memories. You were intoxicating and addicting. He pulled himself away even though he wished to almost suck you dry but he promised. He lowered himself between your legs and looked at that pretty little cunt of yours, kissing and nipping at your inner thighs. Her body trembled and she bit her bottom lip, sighs and moans falling from her lips. He began to lap at your pussy and you responded with your hips rolling forward against his tongue. He enjoyed your responsiveness and enjoyed those beautiful sounds that he heard from you. Your fingers tangled into his hair and yours eyes rolled into your head. “Tellement belle et douce fille.” You trembled beneath him and his hands holding your thighs to your chest while he devoured you. He smiled at you in the glow of your orgasm and he quickly stood to remove his pants. He stood before you completely nude and you looked over his gorgeous body and large cock. “Are you ready…?” You nodded, “Yes…” he climbed between your legs rubbing the head of his cock against your wet pussy slowly slipping himself inside you. You gasped at the stretch and he looked into your eyes watching how your face changed. He looked to you in awe and moaned as well feeling the way you squeezed him, the warmth of your cunt was addicting. He slowly began to thrust slowly in and out of you and you not knowing where to touch or hold him he smiled at your apprehensiveness. Leaning forward he whispered in your ear. “Wrap your arms around me, love.” You listened and your arms lazily wrapped around his neck pulling him in. Your tits against his chest he enjoyed the closeness and began to kiss you passionately while he rammed himself into you. “That’s it give yourself to me..” he groaned into your ear and bit into your neck like natural. You were too enthralled by him to even care about what he was doing. The pleasure muddled your mind. “I want to keep you..y/n…please let me…” You were unable to say no you breathlessly whispered… “Please…”

Picking up the pace he trembled himself drinking from you. He bit into his own wrist and placed it against his lips. “Drink…” you were hesitant but the thirst that rushed over you made you drink without question. He continued to fuck you passionately; deeply the pleasure and the sweet taste of blood sent you over the edge. He joined you in your climax and let out a loud moan as he released his seed inside you. “I want to warn you the change will be painful…I need to carry you to my…our home…place you in my coffin to rest through it the sun will be up soon.” You nodded as an unbearable pain began to rip through you. “what about your other companion?” He kissed your forehead and lifted you within his arms. “He owes me this…do not worry about it.” He floated through the air and soon you were carried into a new place. It seemed a bit run down but it would be your place to share with him. He laid you down in his coffin. “I rarely sleep here so this will be yours now….i will lay with you through it.” His arms wrapped around your small frame and he let you bury your face within his chest. “Rest now…”

#fic rec #read it #10/10 reccomend #interview with the vampire #the vampire armand #armand #interview with a vampire #fanfic armand #10/10 highly recommend

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lee-lucius · 1 year

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Tickletober Day 13: Sneak Attack

Summary: When the Hashiras run into each other while returning from missions, Mitsuri is shocked Muichiro doesn't remember her and decides he deserves a tickly punishment.

Word Count: 2,088

"Who are you?"

Mitsuri didn't know what to say to that.

She was a friendly person, and she deeply admired her fellow Hashira. She tried to bond with them and greatly enjoyed the time they spent together. Admittedly, she hadn't spent as much time with Muichiro as she had with some of the others. Still, it should be enough for him to remember her!

She gaped at him, awkwardly floundering with her hands as she tried to overcome her embarrassment.

"Ah—well it's me… Mitsuri Kanroji… the Love Hashira?" She said with a confused tilt to her voice that made it seem more like a question. She kept talking until something like recognition bloomed in his cloudy eyes.

"Oh. Did you need something?"

Heat flooded her face as she sheepishly rubbed the back of her neck. This wasn't going how she expected. She simply wanted to say hello to her fellow Hashira and perhaps share a meal, but she hadn't thought he would be so aloof!

"No! I was just—" She cut herself off, noticing the cut on his neck. His whole appearance was disheveled, his uniform was bloodstained, and his right leg was dragging slightly behind his left. She'd noticed it when she first approached him, but his response quickly distracted her from her worry. "Are you hurt?"

"It's only minor injuries. I was going to go to the Butterfly Mansion to be treated." He said, gazing up at the sky.

"Eh?! But–but that's so far from here! It would take days to get there! Especially if your leg is injured!" Mitsuri protested, frantically gesturing with her arms. "There's a house with a wisteria crest nearby! Let's go there instead!"

He stared at her for a long moment with a puzzled look. "What?"

She realized he must've spaced out again. It wasn't surprising; he had always been a bit scatter-brained. "Come on! Let's get you some help!"

The walk took longer than it should have with Muichiro's injured leg. Mitsuri had offered to help and crouched down. He hadn't understood why and stared at her until she stood back up, red-faced and talking rapidly. She was like a little chick that wouldn't stop chirping.

Finally, they arrived at a house and were greeted by an elderly couple. A doctor was summoned for him, and Mitsuri disappeared somewhere during his treatment. His injuries weren't severe. Some cuts and scrapes that were quickly dressed, and there was a break or a sprain or something that Muichiro had lost focus on when the doctor explained it. He was too busy trying to remember the name of a bird he saw through the window.

"Are you feeling better?"

Muichiro had been so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't notice the doctor leave or Mitsuri enter. She must have been bathing because her hair was wet and gathered in rivulets around her, except for a section she was gathering and braiding together. It was pretty. He wondered why it was such an odd color.

"I'm fine," He said, standing up and ignoring the pain in his leg. "I'll be leaving now."

"What? But we just got here!" She cried, dropping the half-made braid.

"Our time is more valuable as Hashiras. Every second we waste leads to someone's death. You aren't even injured. Can you afford to waste your time lounging around here?"

Her mouth fell open, and her face turned red again. It took her a moment to compose herself before she spoke. "You're right… but I don't think that's fair! We're humans, not demons! We need to rest and take breaks, or else we can't perform! We'll make mistakes and get hurt!"

Muichiro stared at her, unconvinced and blank-faced, so she continued to blabber on. "Besides! It's morning so no demons are out! And–and I haven't received a new mission yet, so I have nowhere I need to go! And I don't think you've gotten one either!"

He sighed. It was early. It would be at least half a day before the sun set and demons could hunt; his crow hadn't alerted him of any other pressing matters, and the throbbing in his foot worsened when he walked. He supposed he could spend a few hours eating and resting before he pursued his next mission. It had been a long time since he'd had a proper meal, or rest for that matter, but he doubted he'd have enough time for that.

Tilting his head at Mitsuri, he asked, "Do they have food?"

Her entire being brightened. She was radiant. Smiling and laughing, she clapped her hands together and ran out of the room, promising she'd return with food. He sat back down in his provided bed, toying with a few stands of his hair as he tried to replicate her braid.

After a few failed attempts and getting distracted by the chittering of his crow, Mitsuri returned with the couple, carrying a table and large portions of food.

He didn't need to be confined to his bed, but they insisted on bringing everything to him. They probably would have fed him if he'd let them.

Mitsuri proved to be a surprisingly voracious eater. He didn't expect such a dainty girl to eat so much and lost count after her sixth serving.

The food was good. Warm. Oddly nostalgic. It happened quite often. He'd recognize something familiar. From his old life. The fog around his memories receded just enough for him to recall it without being able to place it; there was never enough to remember anything of value—to unmuddle his mind.

She couldn’t stop talking throughout the meal, either. Mindless chatter and tirades that Muichiro found himself enjoying when he could focus on what she was saying. She didn’t mind when he spaced out and continued on, filling the silence or repeating the question a few times until his attention returned.

“Hm?” He asked, noticing her expectant stare as he tuned back in.

“Do you have any family?” She repeated. She was nice—patient. He knew how easy it was to be annoyed by him. Most people, that he could remember, were.

Before he completely lost focus again, he shifted his gaze back towards Mitsuri instead of the wall it was veering towards.

“I don’t know.”

If he did have one, he had no memories of them. The thought of it left him with a vague longing and sadness that accompanied every other mention of his past, but it made no difference. The fog never cleared.

“Oh,” For a moment, a remarkably sad look passed over Mitsuri’s face, but it quickly brightened again with an enthusiastic smile. “That’s okay! You can make your own family someday! Soon, I want to get married and have lots of kids! You can too, when you’re older!”

He cocked his head to the side. He didn’t know her well but couldn’t recall any mention of a partner. “Who are you going to marry?”

Another blush spread as she cupped her hands around her face, laughing nervously. “Well… I don’t know exactly who yet… but I want to marry someone who’s stronger than me. That’s actually why I joined the Corps…”

He thought for a moment. “Gyomei is pretty strong.”

“Yes, but he’s a bit too old for me. And I… already have my eye on someone else!” Her blush grew as she admitted it.

“Who?”

Shaking her head rapidly, she waved him off with a gasp. “No! There’s no way I could tell you that! It’s too embarrassing! And how come you remember Gyomei’s name but you couldn’t remember me?!”

He shrugged. He’d finished his meal and glanced at the bed, debating whether he should rest before he left for his next mission.

Mitsuri smiled, eyes twinkling. "I think I should teach you a lesson! One that you'll never forget!" She exclaimed, shuffling closer to him.

"What do you mean?"

"It's a method I've mastered over years of training. My—" She lunged at him, rapidly squeezing his sides,"—ultimate tickle attack!"

Muichiro gasped, his eyes widening as he burst into laughter, cringing away from her touch. "Whahat ahare yohohou dohoing?"

"I told you already! I'm teaching you a lesson!" She said, cooing at the adorable noises coming from the younger boy.

He squirmed at the oddly familiar sensation. He recognized it—tickling—but couldn't quite place it in his memories; there was only a vague sense of warmth and longing.

His instincts urged him to get away, but he was tired. He was tired, and his leg was injured, and it wasn't entirely unpleasant, and—and in his faint memories, there was only joy.

So he could let Mitsuri have a little fun.

"You're so cute! Cute! Cute! Cute!" She cheered, poking his ribs with each exclamation.

He squeaked, swatting at her hands as she poked him, making him slowly slink to the ground. With a laugh, she eased his fall, cushioning his head and continuing her attack.

A flush spread across his cheeks, an odd embarrassment coursing through him at her teasing. Cute certainly wasn't a word often used to describe him. He was a Hashira, after all, and not even one of the nicer, bubblier ones like Mitsuri; if anything, she was the cute one.

But her words didn't bother him as much as he thought they should. It made him oddly warm and light, almost as if he could float away, if not for the ticklish sensations keeping him grounded.

It seemed Mitsuri, who had been distracted by the adorable scene in front of her—Muichiro's reddening ears and cheeks, covered with stray strands of hair that splayed around him or the floor, face pulled into a bright, hesitant smile, his hands that clenched her sleeves, seemingly not intending to intervene with his torment, instead seeking to preoccupy themselves so as to not interrupt, his squirming was an unconscious movement, one that made him lurch and jump and squeak whenever she hit an especially bad spot, but never truly intended to get away—finally remembered what her objective had been with tickling Muichiro.

"Come on! Do you remember now? What's my name?" She cooed, digging into his stomach.

"Mihihi—" he let out a high-pitched noise, something like a squeal, when she moved closer to his bellybutton.

"MihihitsuhuHUHUHU," he tried again, but the rest of his words were drowned out in loud, surprised laughter as she used one hand to scratch at his belly button, the other scribbling around his torso. That warm feeling spread across his entire body, as if he was enveloped in a hug.

"Mimitsu? Nope, sorry! That's not me!" She teased, giggling to herself and moving her hands down to pinch at his thighs, not wanting to overwhelm the poor boy. "I guess I'll have to keep tickling you until you remember!"

He was back to high-pitched, soft titters at her gentle tickling. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes as he laughed; he was nearing his limit.

"Mihihitsuhuri!"

"Yes! Great job, sweetie! And who am I?"

"Thehehe Lohohove Hahahashihira!"

She grinned, quickly scribbling her fingers under his chin before ceasing her tickling. "Mhm! I think you finally learned your lesson!"

He released her sleeves, giggling quietly to himself for another moment before wiping his eyes and sitting up. Immediately, Mitsuri pulled him into a tight hug, unable to contain her excitement.

"That was so much fun!" She squealed, still holding him. "It wasn't too bad, was it?"

"No," he was smiling, but it was hard to tell if it was from her affection or a side effect of the tickling that had only just ended.

Her smile only grew. She tightened her grip ever so slightly, and they stayed there for a long moment, her arms cradling the smaller boy while his cheek rested against her shoulder. Until she began absentmindedly playing with his hair, making him perk up and lightly shove her back to remove himself from the hug.

"Can you show me how to braid hair?"

She gasped, delighted. "Of course!"

It was slow work, teaching him, but Mitsuri was patient and kind and a good teacher, and by the end of it, Muichiro could make a semi-decent braid that she was more than happy to wear. She even gave Muichiro one afterwards, kissing his forehead and allowing him to inspect his new appearance in the mirror.

Maybe, he thought, as Mitsuri happily chattered in his ear afterwards, surprisingly affectionate now that she knew Muichiro didn't mind, taking a break every once and a while wasn't a bad thing.

#my writing #tickle fic #tickling #tickletober #tickletober 2023 #augtickletober2023 #kny tickle #kny #demon slayer tickle #demon slayer #mitsuri kanroji #tokito muichiro #lee!muichiro #ler!mitsuri #ticklish!muichiro

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islands-0f-violence · 9 months

Text

Kimetsu no... Isekai?

Chapter 2 [BACK] | [NEXT]

Not even falling asleep yet, there’s a commotion across the hall. I sigh heavily before sitting up and thinking. What are they doing now, come on, think of the plot… Zenitsu’s sudden war cry struck me.

Nezuko!

I scrambled out of the futon, almost tripping on my way to the door. I open the door and go to step out and stop. If they wanted me to meet Nezuko, they’d come to ask, right? I think it’d be pretty weird running up to their door and demanding to know what’s happening in there. The door barely made a sound as I slid it shut, choosing to stay inside my room. Honestly, there’s no reason for me to meet her. It’s not like I'm indefinitely here, so what difference would it make if Tanjiro told me about his sister or not?

I crawled back into the futon, getting comfortable again. It’ll happen eventually, I just have to give the story some time and try not to rush it. The story… I frown thinking about the current plot. I don’t know if I can bear seeing any favorites get slaughtered.

Bundling up in the blanket, I rolled over and shut my eyes tight. I tried to blank my mind out as empty as possible before falling asleep. I can’t stand sleeping on those thoughts now this is a reality.

( ˘▽˘)っ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

I jolted awake to the knocking at my door. Sitting up, I responded as one normally would. “Mom- Give me just a few moments-” And now processing the scene around me, I remembered my current situation. I felt my cheeks heat up at the instant response I had to whoever was knocking. There was slight laughter from the other side.

“It’s Tanjiro! I was just checking on you since you had slept in for a while.” The boy sounded nervous. I sighed and got up, neatening the futon I slept in up a bit.

Upon opening the door, Tanjiro was indeed standing there. “I’m awake, not dead. I promise. I mean, for now.”

Tanjiro gave a nervous chuckle. I frowned, realizing maybe that shouldn’t have been said. “Glad to see that! I wanted to know if you would like to join me and the others? There’s someone I’d like you to meet if that’s alright.” Nezuko! The grin that popped on my face was immediately wiped off, leaving Tanjiro confused. Thankfully, he never questioned it.

“Sure, that seems fine. I wasn’t sure anyone else would be joining us.” I follow behind him just across the hall. He opens his door and the other two are sitting around Tanjiro’s box. Tanjiro walks over to the box, pulling it away. I continued to stand there like a thirsty idiot, staring at Inosuke’s shirtless form. He seemed oblivious to the attention so that worked for me.

“Uh, (Y/N)?” I snap my head over to Tanjiro, humming in response. “I’m sorry, you seemed spaced out. I wanted you to meet my sister.” He opened the box and a small Nezuko popped out, careful as they had the door to the outside open. Ignoring Inosuke now, I squealed and flung myself in front of her. I reached out, but she backed away a bit causing me to retract my hands. I can’t forget she’s a person!

“Oh my, she’s so cute.” I gush, Zenitsu sitting beside me now nodding along.

“Isn’t she?! I couldn’t believe Tanjiro was carrying a girl this cute around with him this entire time!” Zenitsu fangirled.

“Tanj-” I turn to speak to him before a crow interrupts from Tanjiro’s lap.

“It is north! Northeast! To the north-northeast! Your next mission is in the north-northeast! Mt. Natagumo is your next stop! Leave now!” The boys’ faces were twisted with exasperation.

“I guess that’s what we’re doing next.” He shooed the bird away, getting up to get ready. Just vibing, I was watching him until he went to open his kimono. Oh-ho, OK, Tanjiro, I definitely don’t mind-

Ah, this is their room. I don’t think he would be doing this if-

“O-Oh, (Y/N)? If you don’t mind, we need to change real quick.” Tanjiro looked over and our eyes met, his face flushing slightly and I was caught red-handed. I got up with no complaints.

“D-Definitely, I’ll have to go and get ready to leave as well.” He looked like he wanted to say something, but before I could ask, Zenitsu spoke up.

“(Y/N)-san~ I’ll accompany you so that you’re not lonely!” I turned to see Nezuko back in her box and Zenitsu bouncing toward me. So, that’s why he’s after me now. How cruel to treat me as a replacement for Nezuko. He’s not even trying to hide it.

I held out my arm to stop him from tackling me. “No, thanks, I can do this myself.” I walked out and shut the door behind me before he could jump out after me. I entered my own room just moments after and changed into something familiar. I don’t have slayer uniforms as they do, and I’d feel weird just wearing what the nice lady had provided around. I looked over my outfit that I came in here and it appeared to be cleaner than what I had left it. How long did I sleep? Wait, if they’re leaving now, that means they got clearance from the doctor about their broken ribs.

How long was I asleep?

Damn, it!

I shake my head, I can’t think about this right now. Changing, I quickly tidy up the room. Since she was so nice to let me stay here, I might as well make it easy for her to clean up after me. I made sure everything was in order before I left the room and walked down the hall. The other three were already ready, standing around the entryway to the house.

“Finally! You’re slow!” Inosuke points dramatically at me. I scowl at him.

“Oh, shut it.” That seems to rile him up even more, which causes Tanjiro and Zenitsu to sigh.

“Let’s just go- No fighting!” Tanjiro exclaimed, grabbing my wrist to pull me with him. Antsy to leave much? Zenitsu’s whines could be heard as he followed us out and Inosuke continued to grumble but didn’t object. Soon, we stood at the gate, the old lady seeing us off. Once again, we had to hold Inosuke back due to a misunderstanding, but once that was settled, we were on our way. I could almost bounce up and down right now. I don’t know why, but nothing but excitement is what I feel right now. Should I really be this happy heading to Mt. Natagumo? I don’t think so, but the sudden realization that I’m isekai-ing is giving me an unbelievable high right now.

Zenitsu gives me a puzzled look. “I know you’re new here, but should you really be that excited about a mission?” This guy read me like a book. Actually, he probably heard it, rather than read it. I try to calm down. It’s not like I can say, ‘Sorry, the thought of traveling with some of my favorite characters is exhilarating.’

“Excited for a mission?” I echo. “Considering you guys are slaying demons, I suppose I shouldn’t. But this is the first time I’ll see them, so maybe I’m just anxious?” That’s a lie, I know he’s got to hear that damn lie. Tanjiro probably even smelled how fake that lie was, but neither spoke against it.

“Anxious is the right mood to be in,” Zenitsu mumbled.

From the corner of my eye, I could tell Tanjiro was eyeing me. It felt like he wanted to say something, but wasn’t. I ignored the feeling and kept going forward. Inosuke’s current rant about the competition on the mountain is helping suppress it.

( ˘▽˘)っ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

After several hours, the sun is finally setting. The conversation died down a little and the sound of our feet scuffing the dirt below us was the only thing exchanged. Not even minutes later, the sun was gone and the dark overtook us. I was so focused on getting to our next destination that I didn’t notice Zenitsu halted.

“G-Guys! I think we should stop here!” We paused and turned around, facing the yellow form on the ground. Was he shaking? I guess he really is terrified.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, blinking. I know what’s wrong, I just want to hear him say it. Ah, that was a little sadistic, huh?

“I-I’m nervous!” He began sweating profusely.

“The way he’s sitting is weird. I don’t like it.” Inosuke spoke up, pointing out the way Zenitsu cowered behind his own knees.

“WHO ARE YOU TO SAY WHO IS WEIRD?” Zenitsu shouted, astounded at the hypocrisy Inosuke spews. “There’s no way you guys don’t feel it- Don’t get these vibes?!” He points up at the mountain behind us, therefore causing us to look up at it. We stared for a moment before Tanjiro spoke up.

“Even so, we can’t just ignore it.” He looked back at the mountain, staring a bit longer.

“I told you he was weird!” Inosuke exclaimed, pointing at Zenitsu. They began to bicker again.

“God, you guys are going to give me a headache.” I rubbed my forehead. Zenitsu squealed again.

“There’s no way you’re not scared of that mountain, huh?!” Oh, now he’s attacking me? I think about the mountain and what events should transpire. Oh, yes!

“Nope.” I snap and smile at him. No one good dies and that’s all that matters. Well, I guess I can’t say anything about myself at this time, but at the thought of eventually meeting the Hashira, I wasn’t going to complain yet. “I think we’ll be fine.” He began to bawl at these words. I suppose they solidified his need to ascend Mt. Natagumo.

“Do you guys… smell that?” Tanjiro’s sudden words grabbed our attention.

“Smell? I don’t smell anything.” I say, just barely getting the words out of my mouth before Tanjiro runs off, causing Inosuke to follow.

“Oh, come on! Don’t leave us!” Zenitsu hauled himself off the ground in a pitiful fashion. I watched his show at getting up before I shook myself and ran to catch up to the other two, effectively leaving Zenitsu behind. “Not you too!” He wailed behind me.

Before long, the body of another slayer came into visage. He collapsed on the ground, his sword out to the side, as if he barely made it down. Tanjiro begins to walk up to him to check on his state.

“Pl-Please, help me! Don’t let me die here!” Upon hearing our footsteps, he looked up, tears instantly welling in his eyes. The absolutely pitiful display of this slayer in front of me made my knees a little weak. Not scared of coming here, huh? I can’t help but feel real about this situation. I step forward, reaching out.

“W-We have to-” I go to tell them about the spider strings attached to the boy, but before the words are out of my mouth, he is flung up. His sword is discarded in his panic about being pulled back into the forest.

“No-! They were on me too!” His wails died down as whatever fate he was to endure was met. I wince, just imagining the crunch of him flinging into the ground that hard. Or worse, getting impaled through a branch. We stared after him for a bit, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tanjiro shiver. He must’ve caught a whiff of the big boy of the forest here.

Ugh, spiders.

“I’m going in.” Tanjiro’s face hardens, I can tell he’s trying to gather his resolve. Inosuke shoulders his way in front of Tanjiro.

“Stay behind me like a cowering animal. I’ll go in first. This is making me hungry.” The last part was said on a guttural growl, which I’m not gonna lie, made me feel some ways. Inosuke began to run ahead and Tanjiro hesitated after him. Tanjiro and my eyes met for a brief second before he continued to run after the boar. Was he going to ask me to stay behind? I looked at Zenitsu, who was screaming about Inosuke being a showoff and nodded once. I suppose he thinks Zenitsu and I can chill out here while they head into the forest. I grin. I won’t sit tight like at the mansion this time.

I pick up the discarded sword the slayer had left. I doubt he’ll need it anymore, unfortunately. “What are you doing?!” Zenitsu almost screams. I turn slowly to look at him and just blink, not responding. He’s doing exaggerated hand signals and making weird noises to try to get an answer out of me. In return, I finally let out a smile. His face goes from concerned to confused back to concerned so fast I don’t know if I should laugh. I salute him, turn away, and begin to run off, leaving him screaming. “(Y/N)! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

I keep running, ignoring the man yelling behind me. Eventually, I can’t hear him anymore and the trees are surrounding me. The countless spiders and webs around were hard to miss, and I began to pick my way further gingerly to avoid any of them. I keep walking, but no matter how far I go, I don’t see any signs of Tanjiro or Inosuke. I didn’t think they’d be that far ahead. I should’ve gone with them as soon as they left and not fuck with Zenitsu’s mentality. I walk around for what seems like only seconds before rustling out to my side got my attention. I looked over, gripping the sword in my hands tightly.

The bushes I’m facing are shaking now, something making its way toward me. After a moment, a body emerges and a weak slayer walks up to me. I let my guard down for a moment. He’s muttering something and I walk closer to try to listen to him. “Wh-What?”

“...kill me… Please…” He sounded so tired, but he continued to limp forward. Was he limping before? I narrowed my eyes at the man before I readied my sword again, getting ready to swing. Eyeing his back carefully, I swung out over it, feeling some resistance as threads were severed. The slayer before I collapsed, groaning as he hit the ground below him. “No… use. They’ll get me… again.” His breathing is getting more labored and when I tried to roll him onto his back, he yelped out in pain. I stopped immediately, not wanting to cause any more harm than good.

“I-I’m sorry- I just thought it’d be easier to breathe-” He cut me off.

“Leave. Get out.” Through lidded eyes, he looked up at me and pleaded. “You’re… no slayer. If I can’t live… you can’t…” Coughs racked his body and blood spewed from his lips. Swallowing, I shook my head.

“I can’t leave. Not yet.” He looked defeated at that moment, the energy that he once had draining. Before I knew it, his eyes were shut and his torso was no longer expanding. I froze and looked at the body in front of me. “H-Hello…?” I spoke and then held my breath, trying to look for any signs of life.

Nothing.

I exhaled, collapsing myself to take in the situation. Did I really just witness someone’s end of life? Slapping myself, I stood and turned away. There’s no way I can let this get to me, especially since it doesn’t compare to what he went through. I began to walk away when heavy thumps and more rustling happened again. Not another.

I turned and saw the body of the slayer I just witnessed die rise again. My blood turned cold at the sight. I should’ve expected this, but seeing it happen disturbed me on a different level. Maybe I should’ve stayed with Zenitsu. Facing the marionette's body before me, I held my sword out in defense again. The head of the body cocked itself to the side like it was observing me. Oh no, please don’t do that I might cry. Swinging my blade towards it again, aiming for the threads, the body actually dodges this time and swings back. I yelp, rolling backward awkwardly to get away from it. Standing, I get ready to face it again when I notice the body was joined with other slayers. Some were dead, and some were alive.

I’m not going to get out of this easily.

Instead of facing them with my limited ability to fight, I turn and begin to run. I rip through webs and small spiders, squishing them when I found them on myself. God, I hope there’s none of those webs attached to me. Considering I haven’t been swung around like a doll yet is probably a good sign. After a few moments, I finally break through to a clearing. “Yes-!” And a sword swings itself my way. “No-!”

I jerk myself back as the blade barely misses me and land on my ass. “Stop!” I finally focus on what’s in front of me, and it’s not entirely a nice situation. I had just run in on Inosike and Tanjiro going off against a group of puppet slayers. Tanjiro had managed to pull Inosuke back before his sword made contact with me. “Can’t you see that’s (Y/N)?!” He scolded.

Inosuke just scoffed. “All I know is we were being attacked.”

“And you- What are you doing here?! I thought I asked you to stay outside the forest?!” Tanjiro pointed at me.

“What?! All you did was look at me! You never once asked me to!” Which is true, he’s been sus the entire way here!

“I- Ugh, well you should’ve known what I meant!” Is this really happening? Is the Kamado Tanjiro trying to gaslight me? I actually laughed before I could stop myself.

Standing, I dusted off my ass. “Nope, we’re not doing this. I can’t read your mind.” His face turned red and he huffed. Wow, he’s gotta be mad if he’s this defiant this early in the series. Before I could open my mouth and say anything further, Inosuke reached forward and yanked me behind him, tossing me toward Tanjiro. I grunted as I came in contact with Tanjiro, him steading both of us. I regained my sense of balance and turned towards Inosuke, ready to tell him off when I saw him run headfirst into a puppet. I swallowed the curse words I was about to say, suddenly feeling grateful.

The force with which he hit them sent them flying, getting tangled around branches. “That’s it-” Tanjiro pulled away from me, running towards another puppet, pulling off such an attack that forced them into the same position. “All we have to do is tangle them up! Then they can’t move. Maybe we can save them this way.” He and Inosuke began to run at others.

Oh shit, can I even do that? I’m not too positive. Speaking of which, in front of me now stood a puppet, she was trembling but kept swinging her sword to the pulls of her strings. Her face contorted with a newfound pain each time she was forced to move. Gritting my teeth, I readied my sword. Someone has got to put her out of her misery, whether she dies or is hanging by a tree. No matter what I choose to do, she’ll end up dead. Turning my sword to where the butt of the handle was facing out, I charged at her as fast as I could. I pushed the hilt into her sternum, pushing harder to force her into the air.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough force to wrap her around the large branches like how the other two were doing it. But, it did get her caught, just barely hanging in such a way that her body couldn’t be utilized in such a macabre manner anymore. I turned to the boys beside me, smiling in triumph at my small victory. They had already shoved several more bodies into the branches by the time I had gotten my one up. Taking a few breaths, Tanjiro met my gaze for a moment to assess whether I was clear over here. He managed to let out a half smile at me in response to my small accomplishment. Looking around once more, I realized the current situation wasn’t about to be as nice as it seemed. I let my expression falter to panic before I could mask my realization.

Realizing himself, Tanjiro turned and looked upwards at the twisted scene of bodies hanging. Inosuke barely made it to the next guy in front of him to flip into the trees when he stopped, too. The three of us were forever haunted by the sickening crunch each neck gave as the demoness controlling them finished them off. I bit my lower lip, frustrated with how Rui must’ve just gotten cross with his ‘mother.’

“Damn it! That damn thing went and killed them all!” Inosuke exclaimed, caught off guard by the sudden action. To say my stomach didn’t turn would be a lie, but it was hard to mourn when I knew it was coming. Unless we had killed the mother sooner, there was no way to save them. I was dallying about and I could’ve warned them.

Gripping my sword in self-loathing, I watched as Tanjiro approached the dead slayer slumped on the ground. He seemed to study the body for a moment, most likely trying to get a whiff of the demoness that was controlling them. After a moment, he stood.

“Let’s go.”

“No argument here.”

“Aye,” I responded.

Tanjiro breathes in before he begins to run in a chosen direction. Inosuke and I follow without complaint. Well, I have a few complaints but that’s mostly about my unhealthiness. God, I can barely keep up with running with these guys. Over my panting, I heard Tanjiro call out Inosuke’s name. He responded with a low growl. “I’ll hack his head off.” Blinking hard, I focused my vision through the dark to see what they were talking about.

Inosuke jumps and goes to land an attack on the puppet and I run into Tanjiro’s back, distracted from trying to see the monster ahead. “S-Sorry-” I push out, but Tanjiro is focused on the headless being in front of us.

“It’s got no head!” Inosuke was equally as shocked as Tanjiro, it seemed.

Shaking himself out of it, he lined up his sword with the beast. “Listen! Slice from that point in its neck and follow through all the way to its opposite hip. It’s a lot of mass, but I’m sure we can- Wait!” He explains, and once Inosuke charges ahead he’s demanding him to stop. “Don’t go alone!”

He attempts to attack it and fails. In the middle of another charge, a spider begins to wrap its threads around his limbs. “H-Huh?! I can’t move!” The monster is now dashing towards him, ready to slice through his torso.

Tanjiro and I rushed forward to help, I went behind Inosuke and cut the threads while Tanjiro stood in front and blocked the attack. I supported Inosuke’s weight as he fell back onto his feet.

“Are you OK?” I asked, looking up at him.

Like in the anime, Inosuke seems to look at the two of us with an emotion I can’t describe. If I absolutely needed to, I’d say it was embarrassment maybe? Oh, well.

“Inosuke, (Y/N). This is a tough opponent, but I’m sure if we work together we can definitely defeat him!” Tanjiro gave us his words of encouragement.

Inosuke’s morale increased 5+!

“STOP! You’re making me feel even giddier than before!” He definitely was embarrassed. I snickered. “This thing’s in my way!”

Tanjiro turned and knelt just a few feet in front of us. “Go! Jump!” The boar seemed to get the idea as he charged forward and used the box on Tanjiro’s back as a step to expunge himself into the air. Once there, he took out the monster’s arm. Tanjiro threw his leg weight backward, balancing on his head. Upon trying to swing, he begins to fall backward. I quickly jump forwards, sliding on my knees to make it in time and supporting him, keeping him up right-or should I say, upside down? I watched from my front-row seat as Tanjiro readied himself for his fourth form. Swinging, he took out the monster’s legs in a quick swipe. “Now, Inosuke!”

Not missing a beat, Inosuke came down, slashing his serrated blades exactly as Tanjiro had instructed earlier. I watched with wide eyes as he finished the monster off, slicing through like butter. The being was no more.

“You did it!” Tanjiro cheered.

“Hell yeah!” I chimed in, happy I didn’t die from a stray sword coming my way. The boar just stared, contemplating something in response. On cue, he began to charge towards Tanjiro, scooping him up and flinging him with nothing but raw, brute force into the air. I watched him fly, flailing until he caught a whiff of the demoness.

“Whew, I gotta say, that’s an 8.5/10.”

“Huh?” The boar beside me questioned, confused.

I sighed. “Don’t worry about it, I didn’t expect you to understand in the first place.” He snorted in response. I eyed his form, looking over the gashes littering his body from the fight against the puppets. “Here, let me do something about that.” I grab at the bottom of my shirt, ripping from the bottom of the seem to grab a few pieces of cloth. By the time I had grabbed what I thought I needed, I was left with a crop top. I can’t be picky about what I wear right now, I suppose.

Eying the cloth in my hands suspiciously, Inosuke took a few steps back. “Take care of what?!” What does he think, I’m a mob boss?

“Your wounds, dipshit.” I grabbed his arm, pulling him closer before he could get too far for me to reach him and catch up. He fought back, but once I got the first cloth wrapped around the gash in his arm, he stopped and let me continue. I hummed lightly while wrapping him to pass the time. I might as well get this out of the way, I’m sure Tanjiro would be concerned with this as soon as he gets back, and that’ll be less for him to do. I finished up his other arm and moved down to his torso. He flinched slightly every time I grazed the skin of his chest or back when I was tying the cloth around him, but no complaints other than that. “Perfect, I hope that helps you a bit.”

He didn’t say anything, just looked over my work in response. Feeling smug with how there were no complaints about my work, I kept an eye out for Tanjiro in the direction he was thrown. Inosuke jerking me around to face him ruined that for me. “What are you doing? Did I miss something? Ahh-!” I squeal as he grabs at the new bottom of my shirt, tearing more off. Stuttering, I tried to get him to stop. “I-Inosuke, stop- You’re going to take all of the shirt! I still want to be covered up.” I could feel my face heating up but was unable to prevent him from getting an extra few inches of cloth off my shirt. Looking down at my torso, I began to fret at how little cloth was left. At least it could be considered a shirt still.

I felt a firm hand grip my leg, causing me to look down at Inosuke kneeling before me. Before I could question him further, he began to wrap it around my calf. Bending to look, there were some minor scratches on my leg from where I had tripped earlier. It was nothing fatal and could've been done without the wrap. “There. I can do this too!” He stood, finished with his sloppy tie job. He stood there with his hands on his waist, admiring his own job.

I laughed. “Well, thank you.” Watching his form, his breathing was ragged. He’s exhausted from all of this and I’m not surprised. I haven’t done even half of what they’re doing and I feel like I can sleep for weeks. The sound of footsteps grabbed our attention, and we looked over to see Tanjiro walking up to us.

“Did you finish the demon?!” Inosuke pointed dramatically, demanding an answer.

“Yes! Of course, I did.” He looked over at Inosuke as I did, except he seemed more relaxed seeing the bandages.

“Are you doing OK, Tanjiro?” I ask, tilting my head. I know Inosuke won’t ask, so I feel like I should. “How’re your injuries?” I begin to reach out and pat his arms and torso down.

His face bloomed red as he tried to stop me. “No, I’m good. My injuries aren’t that bad. I promise.” He held my wrists now, stopping me from giving him a pat down.

“Mm, OK, I’m just making sure.” I went to pull my arms away, and he held me tighter. “Tanjiro?”

“I think, now that we have this time, you should go back down the mountain. Inosuke, you should go with her. With your injuries, you don’t need to be here and you can also make sure she gets down-” I jerk my hands out of his grasp.

“No, thank you, let’s go, Inosuke. I’m having fun.” We both dash off away from Tanjiro, giggling as he ran exasperatedly after us. I stopped at the edge of a river. “Oo, look there are stepping stones!” I point at a path crossing the river.

Inosuke makes a b-line for the path, jumping around on the rocks. While he was fucking around, Tanjiro ran out of the brush into the river clearing with us.

“There was no excuse to run like that!” He puffed his cheeks out. I turned away and poked at the river water below me.

“Sorry, I couldn’t let you coerce me and Inosuke into leaving. I had to leave before your sweet words were processed by this.” I tap my head, still not looking at him. Before I could say anything else, movement caught my eye. I snapped my gaze up and looked across the river where a pair of pale eyes met mine. “Tanjiro, Inosuke, demon.” I said calmly, not leaving her gaze.

Inosuke cries out, drawing his swords and rushing at the spider girl across the river, hopping from stone to stone with precision.

“Now, father!” She called out, giving the signal to–I never thought I’d have to describe this–a large, buff spider man. And no, not Spiderman as the marvel character. Like, this was a large buff man with the face of a spider. And yes, in real life this is absolutely terrifying to face. I’m glad to say that I’ve never had the monster fucking urge for this character.

“Who are you calling father?!” Inosuke questioned and soon went quiet as he popped up.

“Ohh, man. This guy seems messy.” I hold my sword up. Tanjiro glances over at me.

“You’re not holding that right.” I shot him a look saying ‘not the time.’ He shivered and nodded, choosing life today.

Inosuke’s body being forced back as the man landed in front of him snapped us out of our conversation. I watched as the spider girl from before watched the scene for a few moments before sliding into the trees.

“Don’t you come near my family!” The demon lunged at Inosuke again, causing him to jump backward. Inosuke had barely jumped out of distance, so taking this chance at the demon’s miscalculation, Tanjiro quickly struck down at his arm, failing to sever it despite the force behind his blow.

I glanced past them where the girl had slipped away and saw that the stone path was clear once again. I looked back at their fight and decided it wasn’t going to stay clear for long. “I’m going after the girl-” And without waiting for a response, I ran ahead, almost slipping on the wet stones.

I run forwards, searching. It’s been so long, a half an hour maybe? I’m not too sure where she is. Tanjiro only finds her and her brother because he’s literally thrown over there. “Fuck, of course, I would choose to do something nearly impossible for me. It’s not like I can smell where the Kizuki is.” I slow my pace, trying not to stray obscenely far from where Tanjiro and Inosuke are fighting.

However, I feel like if I don’t press forward, I’ll never find the spider demons. God, just thinking about it makes me think about how lucky I am. I have zero sword knowledge and I’m surviving–barely–here on Mt. Natagumo with slayers!

I took a few breaths and forced a smile. I can make it through this. So, I’ll keep going forward-

And there was no longer any ground underneath me.

In the midst of my self-encouragement, I lost focus on the landscape around me. The ground suddenly turned into a slick slope, falling out beneath me and causing me to yelp and tumble down. After several long seconds of rolling down a hill, I finally hit flat land–and a tree.

“Oof,” I grunt, catching the wind that was knocked out of me from hitting the tree so hard. I sat there for a few minutes, inhaling slowly to avoid the sharp pains in my ribcage for now. They seem to subside and I haul myself to my feet, continuing forward since I can’t climb the slope safely. I finally walked up a path. I’m so thankful because I was getting tired of the random tree roots I’d trip over. At least now I can see where I’m stepping. The tree just ahead is where I’m about to lean against to catch my breath. My ribs are killing me.

I take only a few more steps forward when I hear screaming. It’s getting louder as if it’s coming straight at me. I look around, trying to pinpoint the source when Tanjiro comes flipping in, landing an attack on the tree I was about to rest against. I stare at him, seeing my life flash before my eyes for the first time since waking up in this world.

“Whew, I stuck the landing…” He’s out of breath, shocked that he survived such a fall. Taking a deep breath, he snaps his head towards me. “(Y/N)? You made it all the way out here?!” He scrambled up, looking me over.

I nodded. “I fell most of the way, so don’t praise me yet.” I gave a dry laugh and pointed out my side. The area around my ribs is starting to bruise and with the lack of shirt because of Inosuke, it’s easy to see. He frowned and reached out, fingers trailing across my injury softly.

I swallowed at the action and went to say something when an intense scream was heard. It was feminine and there was no way it was not Rui torturing his sister. I crouched down, pulling Tanjiro with me and walking forward several feet until we got to a clearing.

Just in front of us was the spider sister, kneeling in front of Rui. Obvious blood dripped and pooled from her face. As much as I wanted to avert my gaze, I needed to watch this interaction.

“You two. What are you looking at? This isn’t a play.” We stiffened up at his call out.

“If you didn’t want anyone to watch, why do it in a public space?” I questioned.

Tanjiro looked over at me exasperatedly and then back at the spider boy. “This is… wrong! Why are you hurting her? Aren’t you on the same side?”

“‘Same side’? You don’t know anything about us. She is family, and what happens in the family stays in the family. We’re connected by a powerful bond.” I couldn’t help but laugh at this.

“‘Whatever happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas'.” I mocked. This received glares from all around the room, so I coughed and shut my mouth.

“Shut it, marechi.” He glared over at me. Marechi? Jesus, fuck, there’s no way they set this to hard mode and made me a marechi upon dumping me in this world. I’m lucky this is our first encounter with a demon! “If you two insist on interfering, I’ll carve you up.” Rui held up the web in his hands threateningly.

Tanjiro shook his head. “No… This isn’t a bond of familial ties. All I smell is fear and hatred here. This isn’t a sisterly bond you share, it’s a bond out of force and submission. Nothing like that is having a true family. It’s fake, just a forgery.” Looking over at the girl on the ground, she began to cry. The absolute truth of Tanjiro’s words getting under her skin.

“What,” Rui demanded, his facade breaking and anger consuming his face. “You… You little…” He glared at us.

Looking over his shoulder, movement caught my gaze. A male slayer was making his way toward Rui with his sword drawn. I brought my hands up and tried to get his attention, drawing lines at my neck to hit at he’s gonna die if he continues with what he was doing.

“Now, it’s my time to shine… I will take down this demon…!” The boy ignored every warning. “This one looks manageable and will leave my pocket full!”

“Hold on, you don’t want to do that-” Tanjiro called out, also trying to stop him.

I could hear it before I saw it happen. The subtle squelch as threads made their way through his entire body. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, not wanting to see the chunks of meat that were falling to the ground. Thud, thud, thud… The sound was sickening, but I forced my eyes open since it was over with.

“Now, what did you just say?” Tanjiro faced Rui defensively. “I said, what did you just say?” The seething look Rui had did not fail to keep me in my spot, frozen. He still kept quiet, thinking about this situation must really have his gears going. Rui became more and more impatient with each second that passed. “Well? Explain it to me at once!”

Tanjiro’s face hardened. “Of course! I would be glad to. What you have is NOT a family bond. It’s nothing!” This only confirmed the demon's hatred in front of us more.

“Yeah, you heard him, you’re nothing but a bitch that forces people to be your family because you’re unlikeable.” Not completely true, but I figured since I’m here I might as well throw some gasoline on the fire.

The look I received from Tanjiro was well worth the massive cut I took to the leg for saying that though. “Erk-” I knelt now, pressing a hand over the fast-bleeding wound. “Worth.”

“You two… I’m not going to kill you in a single strike. However, if you take what you just said, I’ll give you a merciful death.”

“No thank you!”

“I refuse! Not on your life!” I smirked and Tanjiro readied himself for the fight. From behind Rui, I could see the sister gaping at us. Well, probably more at Tanjiro. He is defending her right to a stable family bond more so than I am. I’m just here for the show, to be honest, and these two demons are irredeemable.

They stare off for a moment before Rui finally weaves his webs to attack. “Watch out” Tanjiro shoves me away, and I roll with the inertia that gave me. However, that didn’t spare me as in seconds webs are tangled around my wrists and ankles. They tighten and blood begins to well at the threads. I let go of the sword I held, vocalizing my discomfort.

“(Y/N)!” Tanjiro calls out, watching as I’m hoisted up and hanging from a tree.

“Don’t bother with her or I’ll have her in finer slices than the slayer from earlier.” Once again, he attacked, this time at Tanjiro. He managed to dodge and create some distance between the two.

I swallowed around the thread that appeared around my neck. “Don’t worry about me Tanjiro, just focus on fighting.” Giving a slight nod, he got back into battle stance and charged at Rui.

“Water breathing, first form, water surface slash!” He brought the breath-powered sword down onto the thread before him, attempting to slice him. I wince at the sharp sound of metal breaking and Tanjiro stares wide-eyed at the now-halved sword in front of him and barely dodges the thread. He managed to survive it, but now a large cut adorned his cute face.

I watched helplessly as he struggled to get up, having trouble accepting his sword's break. His panting is audible and it’s taking everything he has to dodge all the threads Rui is throwing his way. I doubt that box with Nezuko is making anything better on him. Damn, I should’ve convinced him to let me hold her earlier. At least then he could use everything to fight instead of protect and carry her plus some.

“Are you really not going to take what you said back?” The demon asked. It’s like he expected us to beg for our lives on our knees in front of him. That’s the kind of complacency that gets you killed, people. He stands there for a moment, giving Tanjiro time to consider. After a few moments, he readies his web again. “I see, you still won’t. I’ll end this now, then.” Spreading his hands, he beckons a collection of webs above Tanjiro, closing in on him at a worrying speed.

I felt my heart racing, and I pulled against the webbing that bound me. “T-Tanjiro!” I pulled and pulled, but the webs only caused more blood to flow.

And then I blinked and Nezuko was there. I had nearly forgotten she entered this fight as well. Her muffled grunt was easily heard as she took the hit for Tanjiro. Blood splatters across the ground in front of them, mockingly in a web pattern.

“Nezuko!” Tanjiro instantly panics and picks her up, hauling her away to the sidelines. Unfortunately, they weren’t in my sight any longer and my only entertainment was the look that painted Rui’s face after witnessing that.

“That girl, she came from the box… and protected him? But I’m sure she’s one of us?” His sister observed, confused as to why a demon was fighting for a human. Glancing over at Rui, his body was overcome with convulsion. He was shaking in what looked like fear, but knowing what I do now, this satisfies me to watch him consider the situation.

“Th-That girl… Is she your sister?” He brings a shaky hand up, pointing at Nezuko. I can hear faint whimpering, and I can only assume that’s her in pain. God, why did Tanjiro have to pick such a hard place to see if it was just going to be in Rui’s line of sight anyways?

“So what if she is?!” I hear from Tanjiro. There’s a franticness in his voice I can’t place. He must be concerned about Nezuko’s injuries…

“She’s been turned into a demon… And despite that, she’s stayed with you. She even protected you! That… That is a genuine bond.” This demon is on Cloud 9, watching the way the two siblings interact. “I will have that.”

The sister looked at him with great concern. “Rui! What are you thinking? I’m your elder sister! You can’t abandon me-” She begins to plead her case, but is cut off abruptly by Rui’s threads. He swung back once and suddenly she was in 3, no 4? pieces. I swallow roughly, watching the grotesque situation. This girl is nearly as brainwashed as her ‘mother’ was. I hate that she’s got to stick to his side in order to live. “Pl-Please… don’t do this, forgive me.” Tears welled on her severed head.

He looked at her and contemplated for a few moments before responding. “Fine, if you wish to be forgiven, go kill the remainder of the humans wandering the mountainside.” Her body made its way pitifully to her head before picking it up.

“Y-Yes, brother.” She turned and began to jog away, not even bothering to reattach her head.

“You know it’s a lie. He’s just going to continue this abuse and it’ll be like you’re never forgiven.” I watched as she hesitated in her steps again before continuing, ignoring the words I said. The thread around my throat tightened and I gasped at the sudden pain. Rui never said anything, just kept his gaze on Tanjiro and Nezuko.

“(Y/N)!” Tanjiro called out, concerned about the sudden action.

“You, come out and talk to me. Just the two of us.” Rui coaxed, ignoring his exclamation. There was another silent moment and the demon took this time to continue. “What just transpired here had made me feel something I can’t explain. Such a feeling here,” he placed his hand over his chest. “And it was your family bond that caused such. You’re facing death now, and it’s inevitable. I want to give you a way out. And it involves your sister. I would like you to give her to me.” “You’re mad. That’s unnegotiable.”

Rui continued. “As of today, she is no longer your little sister and is instead mine. And for that, you get to keep your life.”

“You don’t think I’d ever agree to that, do you? Nezuko is a person, not a thing! She has her own desires and feelings like everyone else! There would be no bond with you, just a facade!”

“Oh, but there will be a bond. A bond I shall instill with terror and force. There will be no doubt she will be the perfect little sister.”

“Using fear is not the way! And until you understand that, you’ll never be satisfied!” Tanjiro bit back.

“Would you mind stopping shouting? It’s clear we don’t agree.”

Tanjiro enters my field of vision again, having discarded the box. “There’s no way I’m letting you take Nezuko!”

The demon in front of him just laughed. “Fine, let’s see how you fair against one of the 12 Kizuki.” He lifted the hair covering his left eye, revealing a number. Now, I don’t speak Japanese, but I know that it says lower 5. “In a family, everyone has a role. The parents must protect the children, the elder children must protect the younger ones, and so forth. All of this at the risk of their own lives, of course. And you play a role in it as well: to give me your sister.”

Tanjiro just stared, trying to figure out a way to kill the demon and keep everyone safe. Rui was not a fan of the effort that was being placed into defeating him.

“That look… You’re plotting, aren’t you? You should’ve just taken the deal.” Weaving quickly, he jerked Nezuko out of the place Tanjiro had placed her to rest. She was clearly shocked and could hardly move from his grasp. Tanjiro glared at the demon that held his sister against his hip now. Tanjiro began to dash towards them and Nezuko took this chance to slice at Rui’s face. In mere seconds, I watched as he pulled her above them with ease, holding her with the webbing I was cast in.

Noticing her disappearance, Tanjiro stopped after avoiding his attack. “Above you!” I shouted, but it was too late and his extended, broken sword was drenched with her blood. He looked up, eyes widening at the sight of his sister suspended in the air, trapped in the web.

“She’s been bad, so I’ll definitely have to punish her. Perhaps bleed for a while. And if that doesn’t fix her, she can stay there until the sun appears.” Rui announced his plans, further getting under Tanjiro’s skin.

“I won’t allow it!” He went after the demon again, trying to land a hit. I could only watch as he was slapped around, cut further with the web, and tossed to the side like trash. The demon seemed to enjoy playing around with him.

“Here, go ahead and cut my head off. Well, go ahead and try.” Tanjiro cautiously approached him before swinging with all of his might, the broken blade meeting Rui’s neck. Unfortunately, it didn’t sever it. “What a shame. My body is so much more durable than yours ever could be. You never had a chance against me.” I watched as he kneed Tanjiro, launching him away.

Nezuko couldn’t bear watching the battle continue and began to struggle in the webs. “No, Nezuko! Stay still!” I yelled, pleading with her to stop resisting. My words were futile as Rui tightened his hold on her, causing her to scream out in pain.

“Nezuko!”

“That must have been the first smart thing out of your mouth today.” He looked at me and I swallowed. The threads suddenly tightened around me and it took everything not to scream out as Nezuko had. He seemed to take a deep breath in, relishing the newfound blood loss. “Oh, how I can’t wait to devour you. It makes fighting this battle much more worth it. And if my new sister is obedient, she can have a taste, of course.” I spit at him, it not going anywhere near him since he was so far away. “Just be lucky I want to eat you fresh, human.”

This little banter gave Tanjiro enough time to prepare for his next move. Without warning, he leaped forward. “Water breathing, 10th form! Constant flux!” He began to cut through the threads with ease, making his way closer to Rui. The demon sensed this sudden change and decided to step up a bit.

“Ignorant fool, did you really think those threads were at max strength?” Suddenly, the webbing began to turn red and it got easier to see. Tanjiro seemed to falter for a moment before his form completely changed. I watched with wide eyes as the threads disintegrated. Rui’s movements became more and more panicked the closer Tanjiro cut. Finding a weak spot, he immediately went to take out Tanjiro, using the threads around him to stop him-

And everything went up in flames. My gaze was immediately brought to Nezuko who had reached out. She had used her own blood to set off the explosion and- yes! Tanjiro was able to land a hit on his neck!

“N-No!” Rui screamed. “This isn’t supposed to happen, the marechi-” He reached out towards me, pulling his fingers forward to jerk me over to him, and to my surprise, I stayed put. His head was sliced clean off of his shoulders. He and I stared at each other as his head flew across the clearing, the disbelief clear in his eyes.

“Haha! That’s what you get, bitch!” I cheer, happy to finally be free. Well, not for too long. I forgot how high I was. Once the threads melted away, I was left to fall from God knows how high up. I land on the side with the injured ribs and choke for a moment on the pain. Fuck. Me.

“Nezuko! (Y/N)! I won…” Tanjiro sat there and appreciated himself. I smiled and picked myself off the ground, limping towards him. Whew, that gash in my leg is not doing too well.

The victory is short-lived though. “You thought you could win that easily? Oh, I’m going to make you and your sister's lives a short, living hell.” Rui was up and walking towards us again. Or actually, does it look like he’s coming towards me? Nah, I wasn’t the one who cut his head off. “I’m going to absolutely destroy you. And I’m going to start with the marechi there. I’m going to eat your own friend in front of you and then use that power I gain from her to torture the two of you.” He laughed maniacally, attaching more threads to me.

I quickly look around for a weapon and see none, but it’s too late as I’m getting dragged toward the demon. “W-Wait, you won’t like me! I don’t taste good!” I was now in his grasp, one of his hands in my hair pulling my head back and the other around my arm, keeping it adhered to my side.

He licked his lips, now attaching his head. “Oh, but from experience, marechi blood tastes sweeter than the finest fruit.” I shut my eyes tight, not wanting to look as he opened his mouth and began to bite down.

There was pressure, and then there wasn’t. I opened my eyes to find the demon nowhere near me, and instead, another figure stood above me. Blinking, I tried to comprehend what just happened. “I’ll take it from here.” He barely spared me a glance, but I didn’t need to see his face to know this was Giyuu Tomioka. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding and slumped to my knees. I think this was the closest to death I’ve ever been.

From our spots on the ground, we watched as Giyuu faced off with Rui. My body felt shaky and weak. Crashing from adrenaline is not fun. From the corner of my eye, I saw Tanjiro slowly make his way over to Nezuko’s body.

Back to the battle, Giyuu had used a technique to destroy the threads that were in his way. The 10th, no, 11th form of water breathing. Within moments, Giyuu was behind the demon, and his head was severed once again. Except for this time, there was no way back. The battle was over. I watched as the body stumbled over to Tanjiro, collapsing beside him. In consolidation, Tanjiro reached out and placed a comforting hand on its back. Nothing was said, but I’m sure there was no need for words.

Giyuu chose this moment to disrespect people, so he walked up on what remained of the demon and looked down at Tanjiro. “It was a demon. There was no need for remorse. It had spent centuries tormenting and slaughtering people.”

Tanjiro gripped the clothing that remained. “I will never hesitate to bring my blade down on a demon that threatens humanity. That being said, I will also not disrespect their memories as you see… They were once human like me too. I don’t see demons as horrible, terrifying creatures, but more so tragic and helpless ones. They can’t help that they’re demons, and it’s sad they lose so much by becoming one.” I took this time during his explanation to make my way up and behind Giyuu. Without gaining his attention, as quickly as I could in my injured state, I hit the back of his knees, causing his weight to collapse. Before he could fall on Tanjiro, I shoved him from the side to redirect his fall.

“That's what you get for disrespecting people.” I looked down at him with a disapproving glare.

He didn’t respond, just stared back in utter shock. He looked over to the side and within a second I was back on the ground and he was over Tanjiro and Nezuko’s bodies, his blade drawn to deflect the blade of his partner who finally showed up.

I watched as the butterfly girl gracefully flipped to a stop before turning and facing us with a serene smile on her face. “Now why would you get in my way? And I thought you could never get along with demons, at least that is what you had just told me earlier. This kind of thing is why no one likes you, Tomioka.” She narrowed her eyes, her smile never leaving her face. “Now then, would you please move, Giyuu?”

“I don’t… I don’t think I’m that disliked.” He stated seriously. There was a pause where everyone had a look of shock as they processed what he said.

“Oh, my… I didn’t realize that would bother you so much. I do apologize. Especially since this is the first you’re hearing about it.” Not gonna lie, seeing this happen in front of me is hilarious. Tanjiro gave an inquisitive look towards Giyuu, but he didn’t comment on it. “Oh, boy there. That’s a demon that you’re protecting, I’m going to need you to move so you don’t get hurt.” Shinobu explained.

Tanjiro sat up, hugging Nezuko close to his chest. “No, you don’t understand! Well, you’re right about the demon part, she’s different! Nezuko is my sister! She’s my little sister…” He gripped her tight.

Shinobu’s facade broke just a bit, revealing pity. “Oh you poor thing, I’ll use a gentle toxin to kill her, don’t worry.” Her smile was back and sickeningly sweet.

“Can you guys move?” Giyuu questioned without his eyes leaving Shinobu.

It takes him a moment, but Tanjiro answers. “Y-Yes, thank you!” He scoops Nezuko up and runs off with her.

“I’mma catch a ride with them if know what I mean,” I say, chuckling nervously before I sprint off after them. It’s hard to keep up with this leg, but I can just make them out ahead of me. I’ll keep following as long as I can. I glanced back behind me to check for followers and saw nothing, easing my pace for the sake of my leg.

There’s suddenly a commotion from ahead of me and it’s hard to make out what they’re saying over my breathing. I break into a clearing with Kanao on the scene, sitting on top of Tanjiro. He’s unconscious and it looks like he just told her to run for it.

I give a salute to the girl, also breaking her poker face to display shock at the sight of me. Yeah, to be fair, if I were to see a half-naked girl covered in blood salute me and run off, I would also be confused. Sprinting ahead, I almost catch up to Nezuko when Kanao dashes in front of me, swinging out and attempting to slice her head off. I shriek before realizing she shrunk to avoid the sword. I took a deep breath and pushed forward. Kanao was getting fed up with chasing her and decided to try to end it all. Lunging forward, she almost made it to Nezuko before I tackled the little demon out of her way. I shielded her body and the slayer attempted to shove me off of her so she could get to the neck.

“No! You won’t get Nezuko!” I hugged her tighter to my chest, trying to cover her completely from Kanao’s orders.

And like an angel sent from above, a crow began to chant from above us. “I have a message from headquarters! Tanjiro, Nezuko, and (Y/N) are to be captured and brought back to headquarters!” He began to repeat the message, even including descriptions of us. I sigh and roll over, Nezuko peeking out and observing the situation. I’m way too tired to complain about me needing to go.

“If you couldn’t tell, this is Nezuko.”

“... I can.”

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