Behind Blue Eyes | Link X Reader |

Just finished dungeon meshi’s manga and it’s so so good ugh like i’m so sick over the themes it’s all I can think about

if Volo was in a mermaid/merman AU his tail would be based on a shiny Milotic

ok this sounded so so interesting to me that i wanted to give it a try to see what it could look like... ... ...i love him

you cannot fix that blond man please step away and let the professionals take over

It’s every fucking day isn’t it

Writing a natsume fic that is so goofy and silly

when the sun came up (i was looking at you)

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x fem reader

word count: 4.8k

summary: your poisoning in the woods and everything that comes after

content: angst + hurt/comfort. reader is poisoned which leads to aggression/hallucination; she gets restrained. general near death experience content ?

notes: title from out of the woods by taylor swift. these guys are NEVER escaping the trauma of the woods loll

The door slams inward, and the entire Apollo cabin goes silent.

There’s about ten campers inside, a few of them clustered around the cot in the center of the room. Every single one of them turns to face Luke with the same look painted on their faces.

Panic.

“Where is she?”

They part like the Red Sea, avoiding his eyes and scrambling to disperse throughout the room. Luke’s on autopilot, his eyes darting around the room for any familiar face as he pushes past those who don’t get out of the way fast enough.

A girl named Mary - or Maria? - is sitting by the window. She looks quickly down at her feet when he catches her eye. Beck blinks wide eyed at him as he side steps out of his line of fire.

(Something out in the forest. Screaming that could be heard from three cabins down. Uncontrollable aggression.)

“Luke,” Miles says, the only one brave enough to stand in front of him. He plants a firm hand on his shoulder, his brows knitted together. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”

His hand gets shoved off immediately. Luke can’t believe what he’s saying to him — the disapproval in Miles’ voice at his presence in the cabin. He scoffs, trying to cool down the anger that threatens to flare up.

Hyperthermia, someone else had said. It doesn’t take a child of Athena to know the risks of it. You’re somewhere nearby, in pain, and Miles has the gall to tell Luke he shouldn’t be looking for you.

Luke’s badly contained temper comes back with a vengeance.

“You should fucking know better. She’s my…” Luke’s breath shakes as he inhales. “She’s my best friend.”

Miles wilts and turns to his siblings, looking for backup. Not a single one meets his eyes. He’s torn in half, clearly fighting with himself over something.

(“Luke.” Warmth around his wrist. Your hand. “Please hold me.”

Red palms. Your dried blood between the creases on his hands — the lines you’d trace while half asleep, leaning against his shoulder while trying to get some rest.

The coldness of your hands. Chocolate bars so rich you have trouble eating. The suffocating sterility of the hospital.

The entire goddamn state of Pennsylvania.

Luke won’t do it again.)

“Tell me where she is,” he snaps, his voice bordering on a snarl.

Luke Castellan is not above begging.

It’s quiet. Miles’ siblings are staring at the two of them, unashamed. Luke can see the guilt in all of their eyes.

The younger boy is frowning. “We’re not supposed to—”

“So what?” he grits out. “Do you expect me to sit around while she’s fucking dying?” Miles is silent, and Luke scoffs. He turns to the rest of the campers, his gaze sharp enough to hurt. They remain quiet.

“If none of you tell me, I’m going out there to find her myself.”

Miles is frowning. Luke turns his back on him. “Wait, Luke—”

“The river by the strawberry fields.”

It’s one of the older Apollo kids. Luke’s known him for a while, and he couldn’t be more grateful. The boy, Carter, is sitting on the cot that his siblings had been crowding around earlier. There’s a cut over his eyebrow and he’s clutching a bag of ice to his cheek. When his hand drops, Luke can see the tell-tale signs of new bruising.

“She’s hyperthermic,” a girl next to Carter confirms after she glances at Miles wearily. “Whatever got her out there was poisonous. We couldn’t break her fever.”

“A few of them just left for the river,” someone else offers. “It’s the coldest source of water nearby. They have to help her cool down, or else…”

She trails off, but she doesn’t need to continue for Luke to understand. The pity is rolling off her in waves.

What should be a comfort offers him nothing but the realization that it’s all real. You really are dying, so sick that the Apollo kids are at a loss of what to do. This isn’t another night terror — a messed up idea his mind has come up with to torture him.

It’s real. And this time, waking up won’t save him from it.

He can only hope he looks as grateful as he feels when he mutters out his thanks.

“Luke,” your friend Liza calls before he can get too close to the door.

She’d done your hair for you just last week, perfectly woven braids you’d shown him with a grin. When he faces her now, there are unshed tears in her eyes. “You need to be careful. She’s- not herself. And she’s scared.”

Uncontrollable anger. The red mark on Carter’s face is beginning to make more sense.

The other kids standing around the cabin give Luke tentative looks, although he’s not sure why. Do they expect him to cower at the thought of you hurting him? Surely they should know by now.

He turns away from them and starts in the direction of the river.

—

It’s not that far, just a left out of the Apollo cabin and about a five minute walk towards the woods. If he goes fast, he knows he’ll catch up with you in no time.

The short distance is why Luke hears you before he sees you.

As he gets closer to the river, the quiet sounds of nature are drowned out by the words of the Apollo kids standing over you.

“Ah, shit— Lucy, hold her.”

“Gods, I really don’t want to, but if this is going to work, we’re going to need to—”

The girl gets cut off by a scream. A warped plea ripping itself from your throat.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” another voice says in pity, and the fear that’s wrapped itself around Luke’s chest begins to constrict his lungs.

He’s by the water before he can even realize that he started running. There’s only three healers here, but the way they’re huddled around you still manages to block you from view.

He has to remind himself to breathe, to continue inhaling and exhaling so he doesn’t pass the fuck out.

In.

(Three jagged lines, angry and red hot.)

Out.

(Pus oozing from the gapes made in marred skin.)

In.

(Cold to the touch. The weight of your unconscious body on his back.)

Out.

It’s stupid. They’re trying to save your life, trying to keep you from cooking yourself from the inside out, but Luke takes the closest Apollo kid by the back of their shirt and drags them behind him, breaking the iron tight ring of people hiding you from view.

Your hands are bound.

Golden fabric circles your wrists, locking your arms behind your back. The girl, Lucy, has both of your legs secured under an arm while she tries to work another strip around your ankles.

Luke sees red.

He bites back the venom threatening to spill from his mouth.

These girls are young, he tries to remind himself through the anger that’s burning hot in his chest. They’re scared too.

He drops to his knees, hands moving immediately for your bindings. The same hands that have held him through nightmares and his mother’s fits are locked together and held by your own weight into the dirt.

Your shoulder is inches away from his hand when Luke is yanked backwards harshly. It feels like an electric current shakes his skull when his head hits the stones lining the river.

“Luke,” Casey, the girl he pulled away, says his name frantically. His vision is swimming, but he pushes himself up onto his forearms despite the ringing in his ears that tells him to stay down. “We really didn’t want to, but she’s getting violent, she—”

When the world comes into slight focus, he can see the unmistakable footprint shape pressed into the front of her t-shirt. Maya, the girl by your head that’s trying to help Lucy ease you into the water, has a raw scratch going down the expanse of her arm.

Despite your bindings, you’re putting up a fight. You lock your knees before thrashing out, knocking Lucy back a few inches as you try to jab Maya in the nose with the back of your head.

“It’s everywhere!”

It takes Luke a second to even recognize your voice as your own. It sounds like your larynx has been shredded, the usual cadence of your voice unrecognizable to his ears.

Casey doesn’t bother trying to push him back down when he surges forward for you.

It’s the first good look he’s gotten of you since this morning. You’d eaten breakfast together like always, your knees knocking against his whenever you got super into the story you were telling him and Chris.

When it was over, some of your friends ended up dragging you away for the rest of the day. There was an apologetic grin on your face as you waved at him from across the pavilion.

He should’ve gone with you. Should’ve, should’ve, should’ve.

His fingers are already working to loosen the knots at your wrists when he remembers he should say something. “Killer, it’s me,” he says, trying to tamper down the waver in his voice.

The golden fabric falls limply to the ground. The skin below it is rubbed raw from your thrashing, and the sight makes Luke want to empty his stomach. He tries meeting your gaze, but your eyes are squeezed shut, your face turned away from him as you sob.

You need to calm her down, Luke thinks to himself. Stressing her out is going to worsen everything. Calm her down.

He thinks about his nightmares, about the sweat sticking his shirt to his back and to his bedsheets. You’ve helped him through it countless times, what feels like every night since his quest.

You had seemed so sure of yourself from the very start, like brushing his hair from his face and knowing exactly what to say was second nature to you. He’d hold you on those nights and fall asleep to the feeling of your gentle exhales against his chest. Luke doesn’t know a place safer than with you in his bed, one of your arms thrown over him and the rest of you tangled together.

Luke clenches his hands, trying to will the shaking away. He doesn’t know how to do that for you, and it makes hatred fester in his chest.

He pushes stray strands of hair away from your face before moving to untie the fabric at your ankles. The other girls have long backed away by now, know that trying to stop him would be useless.

You’re quiet. Painfully so. But the moment your legs are free, you move like you’re being fueled by fire. Luke barely dodges the swipe you make at his face as you kick your leg out in a wide arc. He flattens himself against the ground, and you wrestle yourself on top of him, your legs curling around one of his and locking him against the dirt.

He’d taught you how to do this.

Lucy lets out a startled gasp, and Casey moves forward to drag you off of him, but he holds up a firm hand, the message clear.

Stop.

You waste no time. Your hands string around his neck, constricting in a way that's sure to leave bruises. Your eyes had been pressed firmly shut earlier, but now they’re blown wide. The sclera of your eyes are red and aflame, and your constricted pupils are swallowed up by the color of your irises.

Your face is devoid of any emotions. You don’t recognize him.

As the airflow to his lungs slows, it would make sense for his adrenaline to propel him upwards, to get him to wrestle you to the ground and pin your arms. He’s done it before and could do it again, despite how difficult you make it.

But there’s another part of his brain that’s taking over, dragging him away from his instincts to protect himself.

Because it’s you.

The same way his natural battle instincts have been hardwired into his brain, it’s like his body has a visceral reaction to being with you, to hold you in his hands and shelter you from everything else.

Luke rubs soothing circles into the backs of the hands that are wrapped around his throat. They’re searing hot.

“Kill-er,” the syllables are stilted, coming out intermittently whenever he can manage to get air through. He’s surprised he can even speak right now, knowing the strength that courses through your veins. If you’d wanted him to, he’d be down for the count.

You’re going easy on him.

He moves his hands off of yours to hold the back of your head. Sweat runs down from your forehead, your body working tirelessly to cool you down. Your wild eyes dart across his face frantically, taking him in for what seems like the first time. Confusion and recognition is flickering across your face.

It’s then when Luke sees the puncture wound on your neck, the mark green and sickly and throbbing at your pulse point. He brushes hair away from your face.

The grip around his neck begins to loosen slightly, and he takes in as much oxygen as he can through his gasp for air. He takes your hands in his again and squeezes once.

“It’s me, sweetheart. It’s Luke.”

The tension you’re using to lock his legs into place dissipates. You blink hard, like you’re trying to come back to yourself.

He should throw you off of him now, he knows he should. Your hands are no longer tight around his throat, and the heat of your body where it's pressed against his is unbearable.

“Luke,” you rasp. “Luke.”

“It’s me, it’s me,” he mumbles, the relief pouring through the cracks. He lets go of your hands to run a soothing hand down your back. The back of your shirt is soaked through with sweat.

Your face cracks. You lean down close to him, your face curling in anguish.

“Luke, they’re everywhere.” Your voice is quiet, like you’re trying to tell him a secret no one else can hear.

He nods before he knows why. “I know, I know. It’s why we need to take you to the water. It’ll help, killer, I promise.”

You’ve gone a little boneless, your arms giving in as you collapse against him. The heat emanating from your skin is growing oppressive, and he knows he needs to move. “I can feel them, Luke. It’s everywhere.”

“I’m sorry, I know,” he says again, heaving you upwards. One of his hands goes to the back of your head as the other secures itself around your lower back. He repeats his words into your hair as he inches both of you closer to the water.

He’s going to have to let you go. Letting you cling onto his body heat isn’t doing you any favors, but he finds his fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt when you wind yourself around him.

Hold her, everything in him seems to say.

So he does.

“Luke,” someone says, snapping him out of your orbit. It’s Casey, standing ankle deep in the water in front of him. He’d almost forgotten anyone else was here. Maya and Lucy look on from the grass with matching concerned expressions. “You have to hurry. There’s not much time.”

There’s a water nymph standing a few feet in fromt of them — this must be her river. She’s cocking her head at you curiously, and when Luke sucks in a broken inhale at the sudden drop in temperature, he knows it’s her doing.

The fabric of his pants gets soaked through with the icy water immediately, but he sinks deeper into the river despite it. You jolt in his arms the second the water comes up to your chest.

“Luke,” you sob, your grip around his shoulders growing painfully tight. “I can’t, I can’t, I—”

He pries your face out of the crook of his neck regardless of the way you’re protesting.

Luke is shivering. You are far from it. You’re even making it worse, trying to wrap yourself around him even with the heat that’s threatening to kill you.

When he knocks his forehead against yours, he says your name, your real name, with as much force as he can muster.

“Do you trust me?”

Luke has no idea what tricks your mind is playing on you. He doesn’t know if the poison will take five minutes or ten hours to leave your system, and has no idea if this water will even help you. Your organs could fail in an hour and this entire thing would have been pointless. He could be lying to you right now, giving you false hope that he can fix it all. But pressed so close to you, he watches as your eyes dilate, and he knows that you’ve placed your trust in him.

The tears that have collected in your eyes spill over, running in rivulets down your face. He wipes them away with careful hands as you slump in his arms. Luke presses another kiss onto the high point of your cheek.

He works to unwind your arms from around his neck, and you groan like it physically pains you. He’s mumbling apologies the entire time, laying you on your back as the salt of your tears mixes with the freshwater of the river.

He knows he shouldn’t be touching you, shouldn’t be giving you another source of heat, but you give him a look that breaks his heart when he tries to loosen your hold on his wrist. He folds. He leaves a comforting hand against your shoulder blades as he scoops water to pour over your head.

He doesn’t stop until he hears your teeth chattering from the cold.

Luke doesn’t torture you with the distance any longer. When Casey gives him a look of approval, he tilts you upward to pull you back into his chest. You fit perfectly into the dip of his shoulder, and he holds the back of your head as close to him as physically possible.

The two of you sit there and listen to the sound of the shifting water around you until your skin begins to prune. He holds you there, feeling your steady heartbeat against his until his breathing evens out.

—

Your hands are cold again.

Luke remembers how they had felt when he had sat by your hospital bed and tried not to cry.

But this time, the cold is comforting. You’re not burning up anymore, your body no longer threatening to swallow you whole.

He had Carter check your temperature. And then check it again fifteen minutes later. Your temperature is a perfectly healthy 98 degrees fahrenheit.

He watches your chest rise and fall underneath the blankets. And then he presses his hand against it just to make sure it isn’t a trick of the light.

He cares about you. A lot. But he knows you’re going to drive him crazy with worry by the time you’re both twenty-five.

Luke sits with a towel wrapped around his shoulders as various Apollo kids come in and out to check on you. It’s not that he doesn’t trust them, but being more than fifty feet away from you isn’t something he thinks he can stomach right now.

He would’ve probably sat in his drenched clothes all day if someone hadn’t threatened to kick him out for dripping water all over the floors. Chris had come by to drop off a change of clothes from the cabin, and had left him with warm sweatpants and the hoodie he had given you a long time ago. There were paint stains on the sleeves from that one time the Apollo kids had dragged him into crafts with the younger campers, and the edge of one of the sleeves had long since worn away with age.

It was your favorite of his, oddly enough. He was more likely to find it draped on your frame than on his.

(“Hey, Castellan,” Chris had joked the first time you’d stolen it from him. “Nice outfit.”

You’d grinned, prodding him with the point of your shoe. “Think I wear it better?”

You did.

For the rest of the night, Luke wondered why he felt so weird after Chris had referred to you with his last name.)

He puts the hoodie aside for you and sits in the plain shirt offered to him earlier instead. The fabric of the sweatshirt smells like you now. It’s not his anymore.

Someone clears their throat from behind him. He turns to find Casey leaning against one of the beams, staring at the two of you with something swimming in her eyes. “The poison’s run its course. She’s on the mend.”

“Right,” Luke says. He’s too tired to say much else, and he’s still bitter about the way he had found you, sobbing with your wrists tied around your back. He’s trying hard not to be angry at them, so he avoids looking at the injuries left behind on your skin. “Thanks.”

She doesn’t move from her spot, watching and observing. Luke waits for her to spit out whatever it is she wants to say.

“You’re lucky, Luke.”

He fights the urge to scoff. ‘Lucky’ is probably the last word Luke Castellan would use to describe himself. If he was really lucky, you’d be sitting by the lake with him and he’d be rubbing sunscreen over your back so you wouldn’t get burned. “I’m lucky that my best friend almost died?”

She purses her lips. “That’s not what I meant.”

Your light breathing rustles the thin sheet over you and he slips his hand into yours. Traces the veins at your wrist.

“I meant that you’re lucky to have each other. I can tell the two of you are close.”

He wants to laugh. Close. Luke wants to think that after a lifetime of having each other, you’d be considered something more than close.

“She wouldn’t have made it, if you hadn’t shown up.”

He had known that, of course. But hearing her say it out loud makes it too real. You’d almost died. Again.

“I know Miles kind of chewed you out earlier, so I’m here to apologize on his behalf. You’re a really good guy, Luke.”

He turns to face her. Her red curly hair is messy, like the stress of the day has worn her down.

Luke finds his lingering irritation dissolving. She’s just a kid.

He nods at her and decides to not acknowledge her compliment. “Thanks for apologizing.”

She turns on her heel quickly, shutting the door behind her.

“I am pretty lucky.”

Luke can’t turn around faster. You squeeze his hand three times and he feels the weight on his chest lifted.

“Sorry that I keep doing this to you.”

You’re halfway smiling. He smiles, too, even though he feels dead on his feet.

He drops half of his face into your stomach, and you move to scratch at his scalp. He sighs. You smell like the cool freshwater of the river.

“Yeah. You should be sorry.”

You sit up before he can protest and kiss the mess of curls on top of his head. You don’t seem to mind how they’re damp and gross, threading your fingers through them and dragging your nails in that way you do.

Luke wants to hold you forever and hurt anything that’s ever looked at you wrong. He wonders how you’d feel if he went back into the forest and sent whatever did this to you back into Tartarus with his bare hands.

“I’m never letting you go out into the woods ever again,” he says instead.

“Oh?”

“You’re living up to your nickname, killer. Each of these hospital trips takes a decade off my life, you know.”

“My bad.”

He drags your hand out of his hair to slot your fingers together. “If I ever catch you in here again, I’m killing you myself.”

“Duly noted.”

“I’m serious. If I see you within thirty feet of this cabin again, you’re in for it.”

You laugh, light and sweet. You do your mock salute. “Yes, sir.”

He doesn’t get up from where he’s laying on your chest, and you don’t move an inch for a while.

“Thank you, Luke,” you say after a bit. “I would’ve been dead, like a decade ago, if you weren’t around. You do so much for me.”

He squeezes your hand. “I’d do anything for you. I’d even let you strangle me a hundred more times.”

You sit up abruptly, and Luke knows he’s fucked up.

“What?”

Your hand goes under his chin and you force him upwards before he can stop you. You tug the neckline of his shirt down and he tries to protest, but he hears you gasp and knows it's too late. He can’t see your expression with the way you’re inspecting the column of his neck, but you are silent the entire time.

“Gods, Luke…” You say after a while. Your hand drops quickly to your lap like just the sight of the bruising has burned you. “I tried to- tried to kill you. I didn’t realize what I was doing. I’m so… I didn’t know-”

He shakes his head, meeting your gaze head on. You’ve started tearing up again, your eyes trained on the splotches of purple around his throat. “Wasn’t your fault. Don’t even imply that shit. You weren’t yourself, do you understand?”

Your hand is limp in his when he reaches for it. The two of you sit in the quiet of the Apollo cabin again, listening to the sounds of the stray campers that walk past the windows outside.

“I can’t believe I did that. I deserve to be locked up. I’m a monster for doing that to your pretty skin,” you say absentmindedly.

Luke cracks a smile. He thinks he’d let you drive a knife through his heart and still say it wasn’t your fault.

“I didn’t understand what was happening. But I could… feel everything.”

He runs a hand up your leg, soothingly. “You don’t have to—”

“No, it’s fine.” You shake your head. “I couldn’t really see ‘cause my vision was all screwed up. But I wasn’t scared.”

“I was,” he admits readily, squeezing your thigh.

If one of you dies first, he hopes it’s him. He’s had a taste of you dying twice already and isn’t sure what would happen to him if he had to watch it really happen.

“I wasn’t. ‘Cause I could feel you,” you say. You’re looking right at him but seem so far away. “I could hear your voice, but I couldn’t tell if it was you. But I knew you were with me when you were stroking my head like you do when you try and put me to sleep. And I wasn’t scared anymore.”

Luke feels like someone’s torn open his ribcage and shoved his organs back in.

Is this normal? he wonders. To feel this strongly about your best friend?

He stops himself from surging forward and taking your face into his hands.

What would he even do? Luke isn't even sure himself. He forces the ridiculous thoughts from his head and pulls your hand up to kiss your palm. He presses his mouth into the center and moves down to your injured wrist and then to the warm skin by your pulse.

You let out a watery laugh. “You’re stuck with me for life. Until the end.”

He smiles into the skin of your wrist. You’re joking, he’s sure of it, but he wouldn’t mind forever with you.

Luke stands up for the first time in what feels like hours. He nudges you forward on the twin sized cot, and you let him settle behind you. It’s a slightly awkward fit, but you don’t seem to care, lying comfortably against him. Your body is warm where it's pressed to his chest and Luke knows he could do this forever.

“I’m never letting you out of my sight again,” he says lightly, pressing a kiss into your hair. He doesn’t want to think about how serious he is. “So don’t get sick of me yet.”

You tuck yourself under his chin, pulling his arms around your front. Something inside of him clicks, like turning on a light, or slotting something into place.

When you turn around to kiss his cheek, it borders dangerously on the corner of his mouth.

“As if I’d ever be sick of you, hero.”

notes: will i ever give her a break? i guess we’ll never know! i cant tell if i dislike this bc im sick of reading it or if i didnt edit it enough 😭 so kindly let me know if u enjoyed :)

tags — lmk if u want to be removed/added!

killerverse: @yoremins @qtkat @mischiefmoons @cedricsleftelbow @syraxesrevenge @whiteoakoak @acourtofdeppressionandanxiety @dummie-dummiest @softtina @amberpanda99 @luvvfromme @3alamari @esposadomd

luke castellan: @chasebeth @silkenthusiasts @urmomsbananabread @sunny747 @randomgurl2326 @repostingmyfavs @au-ghosttype @mrsaluado @holy-macncheese-balls @catluvwr @katemlk @lukecastellandefender @wonuskie @kitkat-writes-stuff @bugcuti3 @bookworm-center @justanotherkpopstanlol @quinnsadilla @tinolawithrice @jjenjoysthings @marisrope @cantstoptherecs @anotherblackreader @iamforeverandalwaystired @siriusly-parker-main @mclando81 @amortencjja @inlovewithcarsthatrunreallyfast @amoreva

Killer: Is he alright?

Wire: Yeah.

Killer: *walks in to see Kid freshly bandaged and missing his left arm* YOU SAID HE WAS ALRIGHT!

Wire: He is! ALL RIGHT! He lost his left arm.

Heat: WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?

Killer:

If Kokushibo were your father

N/A: English is not my first language, i apologize for any translation errors.

• Kokushibo found you in an abandoned village. It was a cold night and you were curled up in a thin blanket.

• He gets closer to your small figure. You just stared at him quietly. At that moment, any other child would have run away when they saw the six eyes.

• Kokushibo left, only to return a few minutes later with some snacks. He handed the food into your hands, looking at you with his many eyes.

• You found it strange that a demon was feeding instead of devouring you. Did he want to fatten you up a little first? Anyway, you hadn't eaten anything for days and soon devoured everything he brought you.

• Kokushibo was just feeling sorry for you, it wasn't his plan to start taking care of you.

• You lived together now. At first he thought you weren't normal. When he was tired, you would lay your head on his chest and ask him to sleep together. He took it quietly, but what human child would feel so safe around a demon?

• You once asked if he was going to eat you. He joked that he would wait for you to get really chubby. You started crying and he hugged you apologizing.

• If you are a restless child, Kokushibo would try to tire you out by telling you about old stories. Samurai of his time and anything kids found boring.

• You like to play face-to-face with Kokushibo. The first one to blink would lose. You never beat him.

• Of course, to take care of a child, he would need money. A lot of money.

• He often asked Doma for money. Kokushibo didn't want the other moons and Muzan to find out about you, but Doma wouldn't give that much money until Kokushibo explained what he would do with it.

• So Kokushibo spoke the truth. He regreted.

• Now Doma would visit you at least once a week. He always brought you candy and toys. You're his new niece and Kokushibo can't do anything about it.

• Kokushibo threatened Doma not to tell anyone about you. Doma promised he wouldn't, but he told Akaza.

• Obviously Akaza didn't believe it. First, it was Doma. Second, Kokushibo was an oni with the sole purpose of getting stronger. It makes no sense for him to adopt a child.

• So Akaza saw you and Kokushibo playing in the forest.

• When you weren't with Kokushibo, Akaza followed him around and didn't stop asking questions. What was the point of protecting such a weak being? If it was any other demon he wouldn't even care. But we are talking about the upper moon one.

• Akaza decided to visit you with Doma to find out what was so special about you. Now you have two demon uncles visiting you every week.

• Kokushibo was pissed off, but at least he could trust Akaza to take care of you when you were away. Doma would only be called if he had no choice.

• When you turned twelve, Kokushibo would start training you and teach you moon breathing. He even gave you a nichirin sword. This is treason since he is teaching you to kill demons. But man, he didn't care, as long as you were safe, he might even fight Muzan.

• If you decide to join the demon slayer corps, Kokushibo would stick around for your first few missions, just to make sure you're okay.

• He may not show it with words, but Kokushibo loves you so much.

Hello hello! I just read your writings about Pokémon and it inspired me to make a request if that's okay!

May I request some fic with Raihan and Reader who has a team of, like, really intimidating Pokémon? But they are actually are big softies? Just a happy lil' Scolipede with a little bow munching some berries! Or even Slither Wing that crawls towards the toys like a kitten, pheh-

That's okay if you decline! Take your time, I can wait ^^

Have a good day/night!

-✒️ Anon

"C'mon, Rai! I have some friends from Paldea who are dying to meet you!"

"Oh are they, huh?" Raihan raised an eyebrow, exchanging a brief glance with his Duraludon. But they both did their best to keep up with you as you rushed to your campsite, excited.

For the first time since he's met you, he was finally going to see your main Pokémon team. You briefly mentioned having some from Paldea, but a few were from this region, as well as Kalos. Based on your history of winning lots of tournaments, Raihan could only assume you had a lot of very strong Pokémon with diverse typing to help you adapt to any situation.

You haven't battled anybody in Galar yet, so he wasn't sure what to expect. He was looking forward to today.

Upon arriving to the camp, however, he's....quite surprised.

All of your Pokémon were ones notorious for being highly aggressive and intimidating, but he quickly realized how tranquil and pacifist each of them seemed. They weren't sparring nor scowling at one another.

If anything, they acted sort of...cute?

He spotted a large Scolipede, the archnemesis of all Centiskortches...happily snacking on berries with a tiny Sizzlipede resting on their back, sharing the bowl. And amusingly enough, Raihan could see you adorned the vicious poison/bug's horn with a cute little bow, which it didn't seem to mind at all.

Then he saw a Volcarona...except it looked a lot fluffier and was crawling on all fours, its wings folded upwards like some sail. Not to mention it looked gigantic, as though it belonged to the same ancient time period as Tyrantrum and all the other fossil Pokémon.

"Is that some kind of Paldean variant?" The dragon tamer pointed to the Volcarona lookalike.

"Oh! Well..yes and no. That's my darling Slither Wing, a supposed ancestor of Volcaronas. They look scary, but they're sweet on the inside. Just watch this." Smiling, you took out the feather toy and shook it around, the tiny jingling bells making Slither Wing turn their attention to you.

With a happy chitter, they scampered over to you, before standing up on their hindlegs and towering over both you and Raihan. He jumped back with a small shriek, throwing his hands up in front of him.

"Woah what the-?!! Back up, buddy!!"

Sensing its trainer's distress, Duraludon hissed at the potential challenger.

Yet Slither Wing seemed blissfully unaware of the threat they posed, their focus being fully on the feather dangling in front of them. They gently batted it with their front paws, delighted at the jingling noise the bells made.

"Sorry." You laughed a little, feeding them a berry before setting the toy down. "They get excited easily." Then you rested a hand on their fluffy chest, to which they flopped to the ground, allowing you to rub their belly. "Awwh, who's a good Slither Wing? It's you~!"

Raihan blinked several times, awkwardly putting his hands back down as he stared at you, watching you baby this fierce-looking Volcarona. He would've thought you were talking to a Yamper or Growlithe.

Looking elsewhere, he saw a Pokémon who appeared similar to a Bisharp, except it was bulkier, resembled a samurai, and was....somehow sitting on its own hair???

Upon closer examination he could see it had some flowers in said hair, put there by the cutesy wild fairy and grass Pokémon that have gathered around it. It seemed to be telling them a story, smiling all the while...which was very unlike the serious Bisharp lineage.

You noticed where Raihan was looking and smiled, whistling for Kingambit. It glanced over and headed to you, being able to move without standing up at all.

"King?"

"Your majesty." You stood and bowed to it in respect, before turning to your friend. "Rai, this is Bisharp's final evolution, Kingambit He had to best three other Bisharps wearing leader's crests in order to evolve, so he's pretty strong."

"It took beating three?" He raised an eyebrow. "That's pretty specific. How didja figure that one out?"

"....well how did you figure out how to evolve a Galarian Yamask into Runerigus?"

"...touché." He clicked his tongue, before glancing at Kingambit again, who seemed to be admiring the flowers in its hair. Then he slowly took out his rotomphone to snap a picture of it--

"Gamb.."

Tensing, Raihan saw the dark/steel type glaring daggers into his soul, and he gulped, nervously put his phone back into his pocket. "M-My bad..uh...I just...."

However, Kingambit's menacing look suddenly vanished, replaced with a cheeky smile as it chuckled. And only then did the dragon tamer realize the fairy and grass Pokémon were gathered nearby, giggling as well.

"Awh, did King scare the "almighty Dragon Tamer"?" You teased, seeing how flustered he was getting.

"What? Of course not! What are you talking about?" He quickly shook his head, offering you a sharp-toothed grin of reassurance. "I don't fear anything!"

"..Tyran!"

Raihan turned his head to see a Tyranitar stomping on over to you, wearing a mega bracelet similar to yours. He recalled you mentioning that you've mastered Mega Evolution.

But of all the Pokémon to choose from, it just had to be his ace's number one natural rival??? He'd hate to see how that would go down on a battlefield..

'Mega Tyranitar against G-Maxed Duraludon...sounds like a good movie title..' He mused, before snapping out of his thoughts and sighing, watching you coo over the dark/rock type--just like you did Slither Wing.

His concerned looks caught your attention, as you just huffed in growing annoyance, cradling Tyranitar's head in your arms. "Rai, relax. My friends here don't have a single mean bone in their bodies."

"I find that hard to believe. Plus my Duraludon hates Tyranitars...isn't that right......?"

However, he trailed off upon realizing that his trusty Duraludon was no longer by his side, instead hobbling over to greet your Tyranitar. "Du....Duraludon?" He blinked stupidly.

"Tar!!"

"Ludon!!!"

Raihan could only gawk as the two gently butted heads, amazed that they weren't at each other's throats. Instead, Tyranitar encouraged it to come play with the bouncy ball near the curry pot, and the steel/dragon followed them without hesitation.

Soon enough, Scolipede, Slither Wing, and Kingambit went to join the fun, leaving the dragon tamer utterly speechless as he realized his initial assumptions about your team were wrong. "Wow...."

"Yeah." Laughing softly, you patted his back as he stood there, shoulders still slumped. "So do you believe me now?"

"...I do. I'll never doubt you again."

do you ever think ginko ever feels the crushing weight of constantly being alone? do you think the mushi give him a sense of comfort?