Rosa

[19] Any pronouns go, I write reader insert stuff :)

[guillotinesandroses]

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[guillotinesandroses]

A Human's Touch; Chapter 11 - Knife To Meet You

A Human's Touch Masterlist

Once again, you have been dragged out to run errands. Mammon continuously begs Lucifer to buy him random stuff. Lucifer is having none of it.

"Leave him be, MC. Pretend you don't know him." He ignores Mammon's loud protests and sighs. "I have no guarantee I will be back to myself in time for the speech..."

"Doncha think it's about time to give in and ask Satan to do it for you? I mean, you're sorta out of options here." Mammon shrugs, making an attempt on Lucifer's wallet while he was distracted lamenting.

Lucifer smacks Mammon's hand away, making him yelp. "I have no intention of begging him for his help. Even if I did do that, I couldn't be sure he wouldn't try doing something nefarious anyway."

"You sure about that?" You ask.

"I am. This is Satan we're talking about. I highly doubt he would simply do as I asked."

Mammon points out that hearing that coming out of Satan's mouth is pretty funny. "Anyway, after everything that went down inside the game, Satan seems he's changed some, doncha think?"

"He has changed, yeah."

"Exactly, that's what I'm sayin'! You see it too, doncha, MC? See, you're smart! Did ya see that Lucifer? MC agrees with me!"

"Don't get that excited," Lucifer says, getting ignored.

"Like, how do I put it? It's like... he's more chill when it comes to you now, Lucifer. He's not all bitter and stuff anymore."

"Come on, MC. I'm going to head inside this store over here."

"Ignoring people isn't very polite, you-!" Lucifer pulls you in by the arm.

"Hey, exactly! Are you even listenin' to what I'm saying here?"

"Not at all, no. Also, I don't believe he's changed. We're talking about Satan. Since the day he came into this world, his entire purpose has been to defy me... and now you're suggesting he's changed? It's in his very nature to oppose me, and a demon's nature doesn't change so easily."

Mammon disagrees and inadvertently reveals that he planned to use Lucifer's predicament for some quick cash. He gets smacked in the head. "Not to worry, I'll be back to my old self soon enough. Then we'll do something about the overly lenient beatings you've been getting while I've been in this body. I'll make up for that pain deficit all at once."

"Pain deficit..? He hasn't been that bad."

"Do you truly believe that..? If I don't punish him, he'll only see it as an invitation to do it again."

"Corporal punishment has been proven to be ineffective."

"What would you rather have me do instead? Sit down and not to do it again, knowing he will?"

"Well, your oh, so effective punishments haven't made him quit his habits, have they?"

"Hey, are the two of ya seriously gonna have this talk right in front of me?!"

"As I already asked, what would you have me do instead?"

"Focus on rewards instead of punishments. Positive reinforcement is how you get wild animals to trust you and do as you say. All pain teaches is that you're willing to hurt him."

"Did'ya just call me a wild animal?!"

"You sure have some nerve, telling me how to manage those under my care..."

"I did get his gambling in check, didn't I?"

"Hmph, I've reached my stupid limit for this week," Mammon grumbles, then puts on a pleading, sickly sweet smile. "Hey, MC, my favorite human... could you please raise it, just this once? Do it for me, please-"

"No."

"How can you know what it's like to discipline him and still disagree..?" Lucifer sighs.

The argument seems to go on forever. Neither one of you has any intention of having a change of heart. Still, Lucifer takes both you and Mammon out to eat a restaurant, being shockingly generous.

"Well, it's your reward for coming shopping with me. So eat as much as you'd like."

"Okay, I will take back everything I've said. You're the BEST, Lucifer!" Mammon digs in right away.

You frown, brows furrowed as you stare at the oddly satisfied glint in Lucifer's red eyes. "What's wrong, MC? Aren't you going to eat?"

"Why are you looking at me like that..? It feels like you're up to something."

He smiles. "Come to think of it, I've heard there's a famous story in the human world about a witch who fattens up children before eating them... but I'm a demon, not a witch. As much as I enjoy a good human soul, I'm not fond of human flesh. So go ahead... eat. Have as much as you'd like."

A powerful sense of dread washes over you. Throat lodging up, you frown as the pit in your stomach closes, the desire for food dissolving. "No thanks, I lost my appetite. Mammon, you shouldn't eat much, either."

"Man, did'ya really get that disturbed by some silly lil' story Lucifer told? Just dig in, it's real good!" Mammon does not seem to get it, oddly naive for someone so old.

You stare at the food longingly, the scent of fresh spices tormenting your nostrils. Still, you lean back and wait for the two to finish eating, arms crossed as you except to be proven right. It would not be the first time someone tried to abuse your faith in others like this, and unfortunately, it would likely not be the last one.

Lucifer's surprise is strangely evident on his face as he frowns, supposedly crestfallen. "Do you truly have such little trust in me..? See, the food is fine. I wouldn't try to poison you."

"I refuse to be indebted to anyone."

"Is that what this is about? I told you, this is your reward for coming shopping with me. You have no reason to be so suspicious."

"You're looking at me weird, and I've got a bad gut-feeling about this. That's more than enough reason for me."

You refuse to entertain any more of Lucifer's attempts at convincing you otherwise. Even so, you cannot help but hope you will end up being right as the minutes tick by, hunger rumbling in your stomach. Soon enough, Mammon finishes eating, leaning back with a pleased burp.

"Man, that was good. I still can't believe you didn't even take a bite, MC! I'm totally stuffed, I couldn't possibly eat more..."

"Yes, I'm sure you couldn't... and guess what? Now you get to pay me back for all that food you ate through hard work." Lucifer smirks.

"Called it. Well, I'm off. See ya."

"MC... it's not that bad. We're heading off to the Human World. Wouldn't you like to see it again?"

You pause. Brows furrowing, you take a moment to think about that question. Would you like to see it again?

Well, regardless of whatever answer you will eventually come up with for that question, you end up tagging along for the ride anyway. Lucifer wants to go see a witch to find a way to get rid of the body-swapping curse. You get dragged in for your human knowledge- however little you may have of that.

It has been a good minute since you have set your feet down onto the streets of London. Ah, such great memories you have of this city. Riding on the Ferris Wheel, listening to the big clock's booming announcements of time, and getting stabbed thrice by the son of your temporary foster parents- it all comes back to you.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you suppose there should be no need to worry about harm coming to you. Three powerful, otherworldly entities walk right beside you, and at least one of them cares deeply for your well-being. However, old habits die hard, and you cannot help yourself from remaining cautious, glancing around and staying focused.

Once you arrive at the train station, Mammon takes a moment fawn over some of the local merchandise. "WHOA! These are the same chocolate lizards they had in that movie, right?! Oh, this gum was in it too! I can't NOT buy them right now!"

"Who exactly do you imagine will be paying for all of that?" Lucifer asks.

"Well you, of course! It's not like I've got any Human World money on me."

"You never have any money, Mammon. Regardless of which world you're in." Satan's remark goes promptly ignored.

"Look at this, MC! They've got chocolate lizards as keychains, too! It looks like real chocolate. Man, they did a good job on these, huh?" He shoves one the keychains into your face.

The lizard soon hangs by its ring from your finger. You stare at it with longing; the stupid thing has got to be the damn most adorable random trinket you have ever laid your eyes on. Still, you only respond with a mumble, "...it is cute."

"I knew it! You totally want one too, right? Right?!"

"Not really..." you trail off. Going to gently set the lizard down, you try not to look at the absurd price tag on the thing, honestly scared to even breathe too hard in its direction.

"Aw, there you go lyin' again. Admit it. The truth is you want one, doncha? I mean, check it out, it says you can only buy them here at Victoria Station!"

A powerful surge of greed bursts over you, previous wish amplified. The want to have, the want to own grows, swells and boils over. Still, the rational part of you knows that you do not need it. You stomp out your desires with the same familiar method as always. Breathing in, you recall all the times you have struggled for cash just to keep yourself alive, from starving.

No, you will never suffer like that again. Firmly setting the lizard down, you declare, "I don't need it."

"Hey! How dare you go snuffin' out my sin like it's nothin'! Don't think I didn't feel that on ya! C'mon, we'll buy a matching pair!"

"Fine, I suppose I don't have a choice," Lucifer says but smiles anyway. Mammon cheers as his older brother goes to grab the lizards, then frowns in confusion.

"Wait a minute... Lucifer, why are you buying four? We only need two: one for me and one for MC."

"There are four of us here."

Mammon complains about the extra lizards until Satan remarks that it seems only three are needed, since Mammon does not want to match with the rest of the group. That puts a stop to his audible whining, but not to the grumbling. At least he cheers up by the time the four of you settle in the purchased train room, staring out of the window.

"Whoa! Check it out, MC! Sheep... real, live sheep! There's a whole flock of 'em! WHOA! I bet they taste good..."

"Eh... I don't really eat lamb. It makes me feel queasy."

"Really? Man, you're missing out!"

"Mammon, quit shouting every time you see something mildly interesting. You're embarrassing us," Satan says.

"Is the man not allowed to be happy?"

"It seems I made the right choice reserving a cabin for us, though first class was expensive." Lucifer ignores your comment.

Mammon huffs, then goes out to check out the dining cart. Satan and Lucifer seem to be holding up an amicable enough conversation, so you feel no need to try to shove yourself into it. Instead you keep looking out of the window at the view, watching the plants and buildings pass by. However, that tranquility only lasts so long. An announcement calls out someone of Mammon's description as being guilty of murder, so the three of you have to go check up on him.

"Hey, you three. Are you with this man?" A passenger asks.

"Yes, we are," you confirm.

"Well, I'm not, personally..." Satan trails off.

"Neither am I. I've never seen him before in my life," Lucifer states.

"Cowards." You huff.

"Hey, you two are EVIL, you know that, right?! So, MC's the only one who'll stick up for me?!"

"Honestly, you're a magnet for trouble. Everywhere you go, it follows. You need to stop this."

"Stop what?! I'm just an innocent bystander here!"

"Well, in any event, you better tell us what happened... and start from the beginning."

The events leading up to the tragedy are just as ridiculous as expected. Mammon gets called a stupid idiot in many fonts and smacked by Lucifer. You pat him on the shoulder and offer some tissues for his leaking eyes. Seriously, those two are about as helpful as a pair of snails in a cabbage patch. "It wasn't your fault, just bad timing."

Mammon sobs. "You're so nice, MC. It's like someone took my heart and shattered it like it was made of glass... but now here you come to the rescue, bein' all nice. It really hits me in the feels, MC."

"MC, I don't know why you'd come to his defense, but stop. You're only encouraging him. He's annoying enough as it is."

"Those two are EVIL! You're the only one who's kind to me..."

"In case you've forgotten, you're a demon, Mammon. That makes you evil as well." Satan points out.

"Well, we're going to have to do something about this." You stand up straight, putting away the napkins.

"As if we needed another problem to deal with." Lucifer sighs.

Satan gets far too excited about solving this mystery. They use some kind of demonic manipulation to get more time to find out the truth. You happen to be immune to said hypnosis- a rare trait in humans, usually only found in witches, sorcerers, and other powerful magic users. You are none of those, yet Asmodeus's charm still does not work on you. However, that is a mystery to be solved some other time.

Mammon's innocence being proven takes priority. Anyway, she was stabbed in the back, which is a good clue to lead with. The suspects are called forth: the ones who were behind Griselda, doing the ritual. Nothing interesting should have happened here. However, as soon as you lock eyes with one of the suspects, the both of you freeze.

"Wait a second- MC, is that you?!"

"I- huh? Lucas?!"

"Do you know this man, MC?" Satan asks.

"That's the piece of trash who tried to rob me and stabbed me thrice in the stomach!"

"I was never found guilty of that!"

"That doesn't mean you didn't do it! Who was it then, your non-existent twin brother?"

"Great, I'm sure this won't complicate things." Lucifer sighs for the who-knows-what-th time during this trip.

As soon as the four of you get to the reserved room, Griselda's spirit appears. She provides some background context to those who were with her. Noah wanted to be her apprentice. Lucas and Sophia are siblings. They were hoping to speak with the spirit of their dead younger sister.

"MC, you've met the siblings before. What do you know about them?" Satan asks.

"I've never actually met Sophia before. I don't know what kind of person she is, but Lucas and her seemed close. As for the little sister... she was such a sweet kid. Damn... that's actually kind of sad."

"I understand that you have your grievances with Lucas, but I hope you won't let those get in the way of uncovering the actual truth," Lucifer comments.

"Yes, yes, I know. I've already had my revenge anyway."

"Wait, you were serious about that 'dropping a brick on his head' part?" Mammon asks.

"Of course. 'Do onto others as you wish to have them do unto you'. Clearly, his attempt at trying to murder me was his way of telling me that I had free rein to do the same!" You smile matter of factly.

The demons stare at you for a moment, blinking. Satan is the one to break the short silence. "Fair enough. So then, I guess we'll need to torture each of them separately until we find our answer."

"Huh-?"

"Yes, that shouldn't take long at all," Lucifer agrees.

"I beg your fucking pardon-"

Mammon cuts you off. "Okay, then! So, which one of those humans should we torture first?"

"Griselda, do you remember being stabbed?" You ask, hoping to find a less shitty solution.

"Yes, I should think so! I remember the pain I felt as the knife entered... it was being thrust up from below. It burned like fire. I'll never forget that feeling... but that's all I remember. I don't know who did it."

"Mammon, what did you see when you first entered the room?"

"Uhh... at first I thought it was pitch black in there. Then I looked harder and saw that there was a candle burnin' on the table in the middle of the room. Griselda was the person closest to the door when I came through. That's why everyone ended up blamin' me for it."

"Behind her were the two guys. The girl was sitting the furthest away. Oh yeah, and one the guys was wearin' this crazy-looking shirt. It was super flashy and super lame."

Griselda confirms that to have been Noah. Mammon continues, "well, he stayed sittin' in his chair the whole time. Maybe he was so freaked out about you being stabbed that he couldn't even manage to stand? Heheheh."

"Ah, that's it then. I've figured out who the killer is." Shock shows on the others' faces at your bold declaration.

"Well, alright then! Let's find this person and get to torturin'!" Mammon grins.

"There will be no torturing." You cut him off. "We're in the Human World; we'll do this the human way."

"The human way..?!"

"Alright then. Agreed, we'll do it your way," Lucifer says. "So, what do we do first, MC?"

With simple instructions, the others leave to grab the suspects again. You get left alone with the ghost for a while. She has been watching you quite intently for some time now.

"You there... MC, was it? I have to say I'm surprised. I never expected Lucifer of all demons to listen to a human, but that's what he did. He clearly trusts you, doesn't he?"

"If you say so." You shrug. "At least he's willing to listen."

Griselda falls silent for a moment. "Know that nothing lasts forever. Sometime in the near future, he will lose every ounce of the trust he puts in you now."

Before you get a chance to respond, she leaves with a few more words. "Whether you believe me or not is up to you. I'm simply telling you the future that I see for you. Do be careful."

You are left standing there, with the weight of some deceased lady's cryptic words on your mind yet again. At least if you are to believe that the disembodied voice who keeps saving you is a ghost. Oh well, close enough, you figure and move on when the others walk in.

Noah was the culprit, motivated by his desire to become Griselda's apprentice and her rejections. Lucas thanks you for helping clear his name. "You helped me despite everything... that happened back then. I can't say how grateful I am for that."

"Aw, how sweet of you to say. I'm almost starting to regret dropping that brick on your head."

"I'm... what?" His eyes widen in shock.

"That was you?!" Sophia storms up. "Don't you know how much damage you caused?!"

"It was well-deserved. Eye for an eye and all that."

"How can you say something like that so casually? He missed out on months of his life because of you!"

"If he'd succeeded in murdering me, I would have missed out on decades of my life as well. Anyway, you should be more grateful, actually. I saved all three of you from being tortured for information."

Sophie goes for an inflamed response once again, but Lucas steps in. "It's fine, Fifi. I'd like to talk this through with MC now, if possible."

In spite of her reluctance, Sophia gives him a chance to do that, though not without sending a nasty glare your way. Honestly, you cannot blame her for her hostility. Her younger brother was badly hurt, all because you could not let go of a grudge. However, you refuse to blame yourself. You can accept her anger as justified while still remembering how you were wronged first, and how you received no justice.

"So... you're hanging around these guys nowadays, huh?" Lucas starts the conversation, watching Lucifer and Satan talk a little further back in the cart.

"Yep." The curse seems to be in the process of being lifted. Lucifer even gives Satan the opportunity to do the speech himself, in his own body. Everything appears to be turning out just fine.

Lucas remains quiet for a while, unsure what to do with his clammy hands. "Dammit... even if I apologized, what would that be worth? I seriously tried to kill you..."

"That you did... and you did a real bang-up job of it."

"I... huh?"

"You have to try harder than that to put someone like me down. Maybe try crushing my chest cavity or windpipe next time or something. That might do the trick."

"Oh, right. I forgot you were batshit crazy."

"Well, it's convenient for you now, isn't it? I'm willing to let go of our past- no sane person would. Will you forgive me, or we will start again?"

"Yeah, I guess we could call it even now. I don't have the time for all that stuff anymore, and I don't wanna die."

"Alright then. Here's to a fresh start?" You smile, lifting a glass of white wine to him.

"Yeah, cheers." He chuckles, then clicks his glass against yours. Taking a sip, he lets the taste sit in his mouth for a while.

The silence does not last long. He blanches, setting the glass down with disgust. "God, this wine is awful!"

"I know, right? I don't know what I was expecting from this of all drinks..."

Although the conversation mostly consists of complaining, it ends things between you in an amicable enough way. The likelihood of you ever running into each other again is slim, and the chances of reaching out on purpose are close to zero. Still, it feels good to wipe the slate clean. New possibilities and the chance to exist to one another as strangers- yes, you gained something quite valuable from this trip. Light in the heart, you cannot help but want to do something a little more different today.

Finding out whatever that something may be is not difficult at all. The House of Lamentation always has something going on. This time it is Beelzebub who first takes note of your presence.

"Oh, MC, you're back!"

"Yep. It was a productive journey."

"It makes me happy to hear that." A soft smile falls to his lips. "Lucifer and Satan aren't at each others throats anymore, right?"

"For now at least. They're in their own bodies now, so the mission was a success."

"That's great! You're not too tired from going on that trip, are you?"

"No, I'm fine. It was pretty fun, actually."

"Good. Anyway, if you're free right now and not hungry or anything like that, would you want to come to the gym with me? I have my own private one, so you don't have to worry about it being full. You don't even have to work out if you don't want to... I'd just like you to keep me company for a little bit, if that's okay." His face seems to turn a bit pinkish at the request.

"Sure! Let me just grab better clothes for that, alright?"

"Okay." He nods, leaning back to wait.

Once you arrive at his gym, Beelzebub teaches you the ropes of all the machines. You have always had to find more obscure ways to keep your physique from falling apart, so the environment is sort of new. Normal gyms are quite a bit bigger, you would assume. However, since only one individual seems to ever use this one, it makes sense it would only have one of each type of machine. Eventually, the both of you settle on a type of workout you want to start with, talking on and off.

"I know you said you've never really gone to the gym, but you seem kind of strong for a human." Beelzebub remarks between sit-ups.

"I will throw this weight at you. I am a threat."

"Please don't get offended... I'm trying to compliment you. I was also just curious and wanted to ask: how'd you get that way?"

"Mm... I couldn't exactly afford any fancy hobbies. I'd do basic exercises when I had the chance to. One day I got curious though, and asked one of the strippers at the bar I worked at how she pretty much defied gravity on those poles. She taught me the basics. After that, I'd sometimes stay behind and try to get better."

"Is that how you got strong?"

"Well, genetics probably have something to do with it, too. I've always been a bit above my age group in terms of upper body strength. It's been easy for me improve."

"Hm... is there any sort of purpose you've been trying to get stronger for?"

"Self-defense and health, mostly. Why?"

"I've got a bunch of reasons, so I'm curious. I want to protect my family, keep them safe, and fight anyone who tries to cut me off in the cafeteria line... all really important things. I was born with a lot of strength too, so I've had to learn how to use it well." He finishes his rep, brushing aside a small bead of sweat from the side of his face, lost in thought for a moment before lifting his head again. "Anyway... I'm done now, so I can spot for you if you still want."

You place the smaller weights down and settle onto the funky-looking device. Beelzebub assists you with placing your hands into the correct position, giving a couple of pointers on how exact you should lift the weight. The workout seems to be going well but for someone meant to assure your safety, he seems a little distracted, and remains that way even when you ask about it.

"It's just that... your arms look really... juicy from up close," he mumbles. The intense stare never leaves your form even as your grip momentarily falters.

"Uh... okay, thanks but please focus!" You nearly fumble the weight, caught off guard by his unusual comment.

He twitches back to reality and concentrates again. "Sorry... I haven't seen your muscles move like that beneath the skin before. I got distracted."

"It's okay. Just don't let me crushed under this thing."

"Of course I won't, I promise." His face suddenly takes on a surprising, more serious expression. "I swear I won't let any harm come to you, MC."

Distracted by his abrupt declaration, you nearly drop the weight again. He catches it, but you soon decide that might be enough for that particular machine. You brush off his concerns over your health with a laugh, trying to act as if the burn on your face was only caused by exercise. Somehow he seems more confident here in his own space, even more blunt than he usually is. The strange, flirtatious undertones in his words will probably disappear once you get back home, replaced by the usual topics of dinner and sweets, and you will both forget all about this.

[guillotinesandroses]

Command Zero: Destroy the World - Command 2, Engage the Enemy

[Platonic] Transformers Prime + Villain Inventor Reader

Command Zero: Masterlist

Motivation is the bane of all living things. Exams looming in the future with their passing wisdom hardly hold any value- at least nowhere near enough to bother. Practical missions or assignments on the other hand, now, those have clear ends worth aiming for. Once it is done, it is done. Learn as much as you need to and move on. 

In other words, you are thriving in your new occupation. No one else expected that except for you. It's fine, you muse as you stroll down a hallway, humming a tune with a datapad between your fingers. 

Most of the adjustment has come from making this alien technology actually usable for someone of your size, but you have made it work. Ladders, downloading stuff to your own electronics, replicating the devices in more convenient forms- you sure have been busy these past few weeks. That is how it worked until for whatever reason, you were told to devise a plan to break into a military base and get the energon they had stumbled upon. 

Assuming they wanted a human opinion on how to break into a human facility, you went through with it. You spied and gathered information, but soon wondered why you should bother with making a plan for someone else. So, in the end you broke in by yourself and carried the piles of mineral away with robots of your own making. 

Disabling the security systems was a piece of cake and having others around would have only been a hindrance. With that in the past, you get back to your normally scheduled program in a week. Your boss's baffled reaction is as amusing as you hoped it would be. Crushing expectations is a beautiful feeling, especially when their hopes are so low for you. "Ah, you went through with it... on your own at that." 

"I was supposed to call for backup?" You raise a brow, making the platform drop that heap of energon to the floor. "Why?" 

"Now, that is how missions should be handled." He smirks, footfalls echoing through the room as he checks on the delivery. "As much as I expected. A surprising performance from someone so... miniscule. Perhaps I should send you out more often." 

"Eh... I'm not much of a field worker. I'm more effective in the lab, I guarantee." 

"Not to worry, this was nothing but a test: an easy mission the results of which are to be noted for... future reference." 

"So, you got bored and decided to mess with me again." 

"Maybe so, organic, but I hope I don't need to explain to you the reasoning behind giving you a pointless, risk free task rather than something to determine the future of my plans." 

"That tracks." 

He hums, satisfied enough with your agreement. Stepping back from the crates, he continues, "your performance was adequate... though that is less of a testament to your ability and more proof of the incompetence of some of my other subordinates." 

After spitting out the last words in contempt, he glances over his shoulder. Consideration glimmers in his purple eyes as he schemes other plans for you. "Now we know you may have some uses for missions that deal with the other humans." 

"Same difference as 'messing with me' to me... but okay. Anything goes long as I get paid." Your words get him to huff in amusement at least before he sends you on your way. 

You have no doubt he is actively searching for weaknesses: reasons to throw you out. That look he has given you is all too familiar. It is your caretaker's cold face staring down your failures. It is the wintry touch of your friends before those same hands push you to certain doom. Even so, you survived both. 

You will survive this as well. The bossman's lack of concern for you is far from a new environment. All you have to do is adapt. As long as you are useful, you will live. Death is hardly a concern, either. 

Thus you are free. Finally, after all these years, you are free. Nothing will bring you back down until your goal succeeds. So, you make yourself useful. Once the world burns at last, you want to witness humanity's incredible triumph or inevitable fall. 

Days pass by again. Experiments get stuck between the occasional mission. You never fail, not once. It never even comes close. That is, until you get forced to go with so called backup. 

You have heard the name "Autobots" be mentioned before. It is one of the reasons why you have vehemently refused to call for backup. They always show up to thwart the usual Decepticon plans. The presence of other cybertronians can be detected easily. Dealing with human authorities has already been annoying enough despite you knowing how to handle them and their security systems. 

Having to deal with armed robots while trying to snatch some files was the last thing you needed. At least someone contacted the military base and told all personnel to retreat. Although the fact that they did is convenient, it's also super sketchy. Who abandons their post when they are, for once, under siege? You huff as you march through the hallways, wondering what exactly the plan here was.

Then it hits you. Megatron must be running some other, more important operation elsewhere. Two signals will force the Autobots to split up to handle both. This mission is not worthless because if there were nothing of value here, it'd be suspicious. Even so, it is the less important one. 

Halfway to rolling your eyes, a wall splits open. Swiftly, you set the data to upload while you deal with the newcomer. Moving away cautiously, you try to figure out which kind of behavior would prove most to your benefit. 

"Huh? Why's there a human here? Didn't you get the order to evacuate?" A green robot pauses upon seeing you, only to block shots with his body a second after. He listens, then responds to someone in radio contact with him. "Yeah, there's some masked human just standing in the corner! What should I do?" 

Glancing at the download bar, you realize you have to play for time. "I... I was doing something important! I couldn't just leave it halfway. Even if there's- there's gunfire and other chaos, this is too important to risk!" 

"Got it." He nods swiftly, returning the gunfire directed at him. "I'll protect you while you get it done!" 

"Thank you so much!" You squeak out, adjusting the voice changer to sound even more harmless. This trick can only last so long, but the download is already near complete. 

Once it finishes, you rush out through a different crack in the wall. The bot turns to look back, shocked and worried. "Hey-! Where are you going?! It's dangerous, that's where the- ugh!" 

In the heat of battle, keeping track of smaller entities grows difficult. Obviously, playing fully innocent won't work a second time, but there is no time to lean into that role within this current chaos. Either way, you believe your humanity will bring more unprecedented advantages rather than hindrances. There's a reason you are so scared of your own species, after all. 

That battle would come known to be the Autobots' first encounter with the human who decided to work with the Decepticons. It certainly wouldn't be the last, either but lying like that was so fun you wouldn't mind a round two. Conversation is in short supply within the ship, after all. 

The average worker leaves you alone to work immediately; orders from the higher ups, you presume. All they do is deliver materials before disappearing to complete other duties. The aforementioned higher ups, on the other hand, are too busy with their own missions to talk.

Well, Starscream does talk despite being supposedly busy too, but he seems to prefer monologues to dialogues. Regardless, you end up talking with him on one strange day. Your current presentation is on utilizing materials outside of the ever valued energon for weaponry. 

"Which just feels like a waste of such a valuable source of fuel," you conclude, spinning around to show off the best options you have landed on. "So, allow me introduce you to a whole new world of explosives!" 

At first he seemed hesitant but somewhere around the 20th century, he seemed to be turning around. A demonstration of newer creations and your own more precise weapons got him to change his mind, at least enough to consider it. "I wasn't aware your species could've had... such a history with warfare." 

"We've been doing a lot more than you'd think... for the better and worse." The screen fades to black with the click of a button, presentation over. 

"Sure you have." He scoffs incredulously. "Is there anything else that you have discovered in this time?" 

"Yeah, an observation totally completely unrelated to me: energon and human blood mix about as nicely as oil and water. Zero out of ten, won't try that again-" you cut yourself off and pause, only to continue, "well, not under the same conditions anyway." 

"That would just be stupid," he grumbles under his breath, "but what kind of imbecile would inject themselves first with some unknown substance..?!" 

"Your boss seemed to think it's a good idea." 

"Lord Megatron had his reasons..." he trails off, sounding unconvinced himself, "...surely, but you did not." 

"I'm only following the spirit of the company," you respond with a mocking smile. 

"You'll be following someone's spirit soon, alright," he mutters, telling you to get back to work as he takes care of some urgent matters, whatever those may be. Admitting that you want to experiment with dark energon too would probably better be saved for later. 

After only a few days, Megatron went away for a mission of his own and told his second in command to wait for orders. Said second in command will, in fact, not wait for orders. Soundwave playing a clip from a traced communication link sealed the deal on that one. "Agent Fowler enroute from the Autobot base. I'll review in person." 

"Autobot base they say?" Starscream chuckles maliciously. "Humans, always the weak link." 

"Rude." 

Starscream promptly ignores you, turning to Soundwave. "Fetch me this... Fowler, so that he may brief us instead." 

Although Soundwave seems in some ways hesitant, he does as ordered. Conflicting instructions, you assume. Before long his focus is all on the task, while the commander turns back to you. 

"And what manner of way do you feel about this?" Starscream asks, voice stuck somewhere between inquiry and mockery. 

"About what?" 

"About us capturing and interrogating one of your kind. Does that not... raise any emotions?" 

"I don't know him. What should I feel?" 

There comes no response after that. He merely raises a brow, analyzing your expressions as you pay no mind to his. You assume it to be a loyalty test of sorts, but cannot be bothered to care for it. 

Soon enough Soundwave has completed his assignment. Thus, Starscream gets to introduce yet another totally willing person to this ship's interior. "Welcome, Agent Fowler." 

"You treat all your guests this nice?" 

"Any friend of the Autobots'." 

"Autobot? That one of them coin operated 'wash my own car' places?" 

"Oh, so that's how it's going to be." He scowls. "Apparently, no one has told you I have no appreciation for human humour." 

You add: "or humour at all." 

Before Starscream can yell at you, Fowler does so. "It's you, the one who's been breaking into our military bases and government buildings! You're working for the 'cons, huh? Why?! Why are you doing this?" 

"Me?" You glance away from your datapad, a pitying smile seeping into your voice at his desperate questioning. "I think I'm the least of your problems right now, Agent." 

With Starscream getting the torture chamber ready, you figure it would be best for you to stick around for this. They likely do not know how much the human body can take. Admittedly, you hardly have a good grasp on that yourself, but you do know more than a bunch of aliens. 

Fowler keeps up an admirable amount of sass even while tied up and hung in the air by his arms. That is at least until Starscream brings out a stabby electric stick and smirks at the man's pain. "As expected: energon and human nervous systems don't mix." 

"Yeah, I already told you that much," you mutter from the corner. 

"What?! When did you get here?" Starscream glances up in shock. 

"I've been here this entire time," you admit, still jotting down notes in your datapad. 

"So, not only are you a traitor to all of humanity, but you're also a sadist!" Fowler snaps. "Do you really not have anything to say?!" 

"Well, I can tell you I'm impressed you've lasted so long. From what I remember of having working nerves, being hung up like that would be pretty painful. Also, electric shocks? Yeesh, better be careful you don't end up like me!" 

"End up... like you-?!" Another shock cuts him off. He likely won't even remember anything you said by the time this is over, one way or another. Several times he seems to break but never really does. Honestly, it is impressive, though you still worry he might get pushed too far before information comes out. 

Once he reaches a point of consistently passing out without awakening again, you consider telling Starscream to give it a break. Said mech only keeps poking at the agent. "Wake up already, you pathetic lump of flesh!" 

"Fun fact: you might've given him brain damage." 

"Gramma... is it cookie time?" Fowler mumbles in between disoriented breaths. 

Your playful smile fades into a blink of genuine concern as you continue: "...scratch that, you definitely gave him brain damage." 

The doors switch open at that moment to reveal just some guy standing there. Nah, you're kidding. That, of course, is BR3TT. You know your vehicon buddies. Except that is a corpse, and goddammit, you're going to have to host another funeral. 

He falls, shots fired by the green bot behind him. Starscream goes to point a gun at Fowler. "Not so fast!" 

A gun clicks up above him. A blue, thin bot warns him: "I wouldn't." 

"Oh, but I might." He only gives a wicked grin, holding his position firm. If you did not already know him to be a spindly little loser, you may have found that cool. 

"Wait, it's you again!" The green bot gasps, addressing you. "Are you actually with the Decepticons?!" 

"Oh, yeah, I lied then," you casually admit, "I would say 'I'm sorry', but I don't wanna lie to you again." 

"Well played, human, but there's no need to feel bad for deceiving these fools. They are so naively trusting that they're practically begging to be tricked!" He only chuckles at the bots' irritated expressions, mocking them further. "Now, Agent Fowler and I will take our leave." 

"I'm so touched you remembered I exist," you comment, halfway certain he forgot you cannot fly- yet again. 

"Not everything is about you!" He snaps. 

"It could be if the world were cooler." As soon as you finish that sentence, Fowler babbles some nonsense again. This distracts Starscream just enough for him to lose his advantageous position. 

He screeches terribly, but at least grabs you with him as he transforms and flies the hell away from there. The second he gets the opportunity, he drops you off somewhere and leaves. From what you hear, he got the living daylights kicked out of him by the bossman as soon as he returned. 

Well, that hardly concerns you. The next time you meet him it is during an unofficial strategy meeting, the main problem being pinpointing the location of their home planet. "Oh, is that what you're doing?" 

"Do you intend on offering your help?" He asks mockingly, then chuckles and lets out a sharp laugh. "Ha! There's no way you would know how we could locate Cybertron with technology like-!" 

"Well, there is a giant size array in Texas of a bunch of linked radio telescope dishes..." 

"As if something like that would really work." He scoffs. 

"It's something." You shrug. "Do you have better ideas?" 

Reluctantly, he decides to give it a go. As per usual, you are right and awesome. Well, that is about the most you can do for that, so you intend on feeling great about yourself for that at least. Whatever happens next is off your hands. Whatever it may be, surely it won't be anything too relevant. 

[guillotinesandroses]

Command Zero: Destroy the World - Masterlist

Having lost everything (most notably your faith in humanity), you take the opportunity you stumble upon, smiling as you watch it all end in embers.

[Platonic] Villain Reader Insert for Transformers Prime

Defined Traits: scars, personality, Reader is a genius inventor, Reader cannot feel physical sensations (touch, pain, temperature)

Content Warnings: blood, injury, delusions, torture, war, and other canon-typical themes

Chapters Completed: 2

Command 1, Observe the Big Fat Amethyst

Command 2, Engage the Enemy

Command 3, Obtain Codename

Command 4, Interrogate and Intrigue

Command 5, Bridge and Break Some Gaps

[guillotinesandroses]

Command Zero: Destroy the World - Command 1, Observe the Big Fat Amethyst

[Platonic] Transformers Prime + Villain Inventor Reader

Command Zero - Masterlist

Life could be worse, but it sure could also be a whole lot better. With the job market being as it is and your grades having been dragged into the mud for a plethora of reasons, you remain idle despite itching to do something- anything at this point to fill up the empty space. Well, less that and more for the sake of keeping a roof over your lonely, messed up head, but the point still stands. 

Your heart hangs heavy in your chest, weighing more than the bag over your shoulder or the scars dragging across your flesh. Some are old, some new, some borrowed and some blue. Regardless, a tetanus shot (or two or three) is mandatory for the type of hobby you have picked up recently. 

Scrapyards and the like can hold treasures on the occasion. Even when you find nothing worth selling, you grab parts to build your own machines. Despite what all your teachers would have said, you do have some talents. Despite what your peers have said, you do have some personality. So, you build little robots and tools and program and experiment to pass the time. 

Some of it is fully legal. Some parts are not. All of it, however, is worthless. 

Even so, you shift aside metal past metal in a search for something to fit your most recent project. Copper would do nicely, but it's unlikely that you would find too much of it scattered around. Anyway, this secluded place should have something much more interesting inside it. 

Last month you ran into quite the peculiar find. A crystalline formation of an electric blue shade. It powered up your experimental robot so well with merely a scrap of material that the little guy kept spinning in circles for days on end before the fuel ran out. This could be revolutionary but you have no intention of letting anyone else know before you can do some more experiments and secure credit of the find for yourself. If this goes as you hope it will, your life will finally get back on track and you never have to worry about a lack of money again. 

That was the plan anyway. However, life seems ever intent on throwing the strangest obstacles at you. Looking up from the jackpot pile of blue crystal dug out, your victorious grin fades to a confused frown as you spot a jet-plane of sorts landing near your location. Surely it has to be a military vehicle, but it has no country's symbol or flag on it. Brows furrowing, you watch as it shapeshifts into a towering, grey robot with red eyes and razors for fingers. 

At this point you are far too shocked to even be concerned. Blinking, you carefully rub one of your eyes and mumble, "am I really this sleep deprived..?" 

The giant inches closer, ground trembling under his feet. "Oh, rest assured, meatbag, I am very real... and that in your hand, it belongs to me." 

"Hm? Oh, this thing?" Choosing to ignore his insult, you glance at the blue crystal. 

"Yes, precisely that." 

"Huh, my bad. There you go." You shrug and toss it to him. 

His head tilts, suspicion lacing his tone. "You'd really forfeit it that easily? No fight at all?" 

"I didn't know it was someone's property. I mean, you should be more careful with your stuff if it's important, but I'm not a thief." Besides, you have a tool with which to find more. An alien would be unlikely competition for human scientific advancements. Anyway, it may prove useful to remain on his good side for now. 

"You seem awfully calm about this encounter of ours, human. Could it be I'm not... the first of my kind you've met?" The question may be a loaded one, but you've hardly ever cared even when a gun does go off. 

"Of giant robots? No, definitely a first. It's just that it's a Thursday evening. The sky could fall on a day like this and I'd still be like: yeah, that's regular a Thursday alright." 

"What is so special about these Thursdays you speak of?" 

"Nothing... which is why it's always so suspicious if they're quiet. I'm glad it wasn't anything too horrible this time... like surprise taxes." 

He ignores your further distracted comments and complaints, pointing at your handy little gadget instead. "What is it exactly that you're holding there?" 

"Hm? It's a type of metal finder. I modified it to focus on this blue stuff after finding some." 

"Such primitive technology... yet it appears to have worked. You've located another piece of energon, against all odds." 

"Well, geez, you try to make something better with a broken, outdated tool, some scrap metal and a dream." 

"Yes, yes, I imagine that would be difficult... especially for a creature of your limited intelligence." 

"Careful, I might have to steal that bit of it back if you're going to be this annoying." 

"Pfft- a feat which you would definitely be capable of?" 

"Naturally." 

"So, you're arrogant enough to claim that... and you'd also believe with the right resources, you'd be able to recreate this 'metal finder' of yours, but at a bigger and more effective scale?" 

"Obviously." You huff. "This one wasn't even particularly difficult to put together." 

"Sure, it wasn't... say, how about we make a little bet?" 

"What kind of bet?" 

"If you can make the kind of device that you claimed you could, I shall give you back this piece of energon you managed to locate on your own. If you fail, you will serve me for the rest of your days by locating pieces like these, big and small, and bringing them to me." 

Taking a moment to dwell on it, you respond after having found little reason to say 'yes': "that sounds way more beneficial to you than it would be to me. I just don't think-" 

Turning your head back to face him swiftly, your voice cuts off as you notice one of his claws dripping a red substance. He seems even more surprised than you are. "That's... my blood, isn't it?" 

He scoffs. "Who else's would it be?" 

Sighing again, you say, "could you possibly not bring those things so close to me? It will happen again." 

"Have you perhaps considered paying more attention to your surroundings?" He asks with an unamused stare, flicking his fingers to get the blood off. 

"Yeah, yeah, sure, whatever. Anyway, no offence but I've met a lot of sketchy people in my life... and you seem less trustworthy than all of them combined. To add to it, I wasn't exactly brought up with the mindset of following strangers to their trucks... or other vehicles. So sorry, but I will pass on that offer." 

The rejection does not shake him at all. If anything, his smirk reeks of amusement as stands to his full height. "Well, that's too bad... because I never said you had a choice in the matter." 

"Huh-?" In an instant, your legs dangle in the air. The metal finder drops as you instinctively try to pull yourself free, only for the environment to change again. 

Suddenly, a plane's cockpit surrounds you. Trapped in the pilot's seat, you hit the windows and kick at the control panel, squirming in the confined space. "Hey-! What kinda nonsense is this?!" 

"Just take it as a little joyride and be honoured. You've amused me enough to be worthy of keeping alive just a little longer, even though your projects are doomed to fail." His voice rings from somewhere yet all around, as if he were the entire vehicle. Seatbelts emerge and tie you fully in place, making even shifting position nigh impossible. "Ambition may get you somewhere, so best of luck to you, moronic passenger." 

"Somebody's getting sued," you grumble and settle down, accepting your fate. The most you can do is watch the clouds float by and the sun's position change, given that the robot went quiet soon after as well. 

There's no way to even track your whereabouts. Figuring out where he turns is much more difficult midair than on predictable roads. Sighing yet again, you try to cope through sarcasm. This is not what you meant when you said you wanted to fly someday. 

Thus you get stuck in a stupid little cage in a stupid little cave on a stupid little mountain for several stupid little days of your stupid little life. Everything is totally super great. You are totally happy tinkering with some electronics and navigating systems with tiny food rations for the entertainment of some guy who doesn't even think you can pull this off. 

Not only that, but it seems you are free game to be gawked at like some zoo animal by all of his presumed subordinates. They don't seem to have anything better to do at this point, trying to poke at your face and asking dumb questions. Sometimes you grace them with answers. Other times you ignore them out of spite. Favouring the thought of knocking the socks off that bastard who kidnapped you, you fully intend on perfecting this invention. 

How dare he assume you can't put something so simple together? At least he has the proper materials delivered to you whenever you realise you need something the cage lacks. This better all amount to something. If you were not so damn stubborn you would have broken yourself out already instead. Well, you did dig a way out on the first day but that is besides the point. 

It's your pride on the line here. Now, that is important. So, you stay until the device is finished. With that information getting out to him, all you have to do is wait. At this point the device itself is your pride and joy, your magnum opus thus far. 

In other words, it's awesome. He will find that to be the truth soon enough as well, despite strolling up with a mocking smirk. "How fare you on this day, my self-proclaimed scientific genius? Did you manage to create the miracle device you claimed you could put together?" 

"You know damn well I never called myself that. Anyway, did you really have to keep me waiting for so long? Boredom is a form of torture in and of itself, you know." 

"I happen to be the revered second in command of the Decepticons, ignorant fool. That means I am heavily relied upon by our great leader and therefore busy!" He scoffs loudly with his nose raised, yet his gaze trails down with a curious sheen. "Still, rumour has it you've actually finished what I requested of you. Is that true?" 

"Yeah, yeah, I made your stupid electron finder." Saving the file once again for good measure, you unplug the device from your computer. 

"It's energon, you imbecile." He watches as you attach a cord into a bigger screen so that he can actually see it too. 

"Same difference. Anyway, can't you take a look at it already? I'm sick of waiting and want to go home." 

Although he complains about your supposed insolence, he settles in front of the big screen. With the device connected, miniscule to him, dozens of new signals pop up on the larger map. They read with the same signature as the other ones, untapped potential overflowing from each vein. 

"In... incredible..!" He mutters under his breath, utterly flabbergasted, in disbelief, and probably not wanting you to hear his genuine shock. Slender claws shifting across the strange keyboard, he watches more and more sources light up. Precise locations and quantities glow in significant colours, optimal mining spots and the quality of the crystals- truly, you have outdone yourself this time. "Most of these never even showed up on the main radar... I must imme-!" 

"It's great, ain't it? So, I get to leave now, no?" A beat passes in total silence as he pauses. 

Calmly leaning away from the screen, his chuckles grow slowly in volume. "No... no, no, my foolish fleshbag, you've proven yourself far too valuable to simply discard. I think I will actually keep you around." 

Frowning, you state, "so, it was rigged from the start. If I win, I'm stuck here as a prisoner; if I lose I'm stuck here as a prisoner." 

"Not quite. You are no longer here as a mere prisoner; you are a scientist to be." He chuckles, turning to monologue with a pleased cackle. "Once Lord Megatron returns and sees my inventions, what I've accomplished in his absence... oh, he'll be delighted by my genius!" 

"I take it you mean my genius?" 

He pauses, then turns back abruptly. "It was my brilliance that had the idea of bringing you on board to begin with. I gave you the resources needed to make this locator that you did. Without my help, you would still have and be nothing. Be grateful and show more respect like you should, vermin!" 

He really believes himself to be intimidating. Unfortunately for him, you have given up on fear ages ago. So you go back and forth with him growing more agitated as you find more and more amusement in his blight. At the end of his patience, he asks harshly: "do you truly believe you could withstand torture with that weak body of yours?" 

"With my constitution? Oh, absolutely- bring it. I'd be very impressed if you could get me to even flinch." 

His brows furrow at your casual attitude towards his threats. Still, the argument frustrated him enough to not care. Several moments pass and you hang by your arms in a weird room he carried you to. Surely it would sting if you could feel it. However, you cannot, so all you can think of is how glad you are to see a new kind of scenery after such a long time of the same ugly walls. 

He shocks your frame over and over again with some dumb electricity stick. Each stab comes forth a little more violently, frustration brimming in his voice. "Why?! Why are you not reacting?! This voltage should be enough to send 'most any cybertronian on the floor, begging for mercy!" 

"I've had worse shocks." You shrug. Really, it does not as much as tickle, but you are definitely pushing your luck. Although he cannot hurt you, he certainly could kill you. Well, not that your life means much but still, this is far too interesting for you to be happy with the thought of dying right now. 

"Ugh... what is it?! I know this stick isn't broken-!" 

"You want the truth?" 

"Yes, obviously!" He leans closer against the control panel. "What is your secret, you resilient meatslab?!" 

"All of my nerve endings are fried." 

"Huh?" He retreats with a blink, expression tense as he wonders if he heard you correctly. "Excuse me..?" 

"Well, most of them are. Like I said, I've had worse shocks. One of them was so bad I lost one of my five senses. Down to four now: I feel nothing." 

"So, attempting to hurt you like this is pointless," he confirms after a moment of contemplation. "Ugh... how disappointing and burdensome. I've wasted far too much valuable time on this nonsense." 

"Maybe you should stop then and just let me go home. Like, Jesus Christ, give me a break." 

"What is this... Jesus Christ you speak of?" He lowers the torture stick in confusion. 

That string of words forces you to take a long pause. Aliens do not seem to know anything about Christianity. Thus, it only applies to a region of Earth, thus there was never any singular God to create all of reality. The same logic can likely be applied to most if not all other belief systems as well. 

Several blinks pass by. You take in this opened worldview with relieved amazement. "Dude... I think you just fixed my religious paranoia in one sentence." 

"What?" 

Ignoring him, you declare with a grin: "wow, I feel way better than 40 seconds ago!" 

It may be a bizarre thing to declare after enduring what was probably closer to an hour of torture. However, it is true. "Okay, pile o' bolts, enough of this. Could you get me down now? I wanna do something less boring." 

He bristles, nearly shaking from anger (or whatever the equivalent for high blood pressure is for his species). Wishing he could hurt you, he slams his hands on the table. "How dare you call me that! I will make you regret it!" 

"You've never told me your name. I assumed that meant I can call you whatever I want to." 

His whole body shudders with the urge to roll his eyes. "It's Starscream- Commander Starscream to you, pest." 

"Okay, so, Starscream, I-" 

"Commander!" 

"Well, much appreciated, but you don't have to call me that." Before he can respond, likely in an offended scream, you continue: "as I was saying, I have a question. Is your name Starscream because you scream at stars or because stars scream at you?" 

"Such an insolent, foolish, worthless question..." he trails off with a scoff, shaking his head. As if it pains him to even consider asking, he continues, "what exactly... could be done... to convince you to cooperate with my orders?" 

"Hm, I'm not opposed to receiving employment, no matter how unconventional- quite the opposite, actually- but I do require my freedom and some sort of payment. Otherwise I will do nothing." 

"Really? Being held captive seemed to motivate you just fine earlier. Should I imprison you again, you grating bundle of skin?" 

"The only reason I went through with it was because I had a point to prove. I could've escaped any moment I wanted to." 

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Sure you could have." 

That conversation was unfortunately not the one that could get you to see eye to eye yet. It may have something to do with the fact that he is probably 50-something-foot tall and you are of average human height, but what do you know. Several weeks and various escapes later, you hear rumors of your captor's boss having returned. 

This may be your one chance at leaving for good or at least improving your situation, so you find yourself searching for him. Beholding a large pile of purple rock, you eavesdrop on the two talking about something called dark energon. It seems relevant. Unfortunately, you do not care. 

Speaking up, you shrug and voice your unasked opinion: "well, to me that just looks like a big fat pile of amethyst, but what do I know. I'm not a geologist." 

"Starscream," the freakishly tall, bucket-headed robot says, calmly at first, "do I even want to know what one of this planet's native pests is doing on my warship?!" 

Before Starscream can finish his nervous chuckling and explanations, you cut in: "yeah, Starscream, that's kinda weird. How did this happen?" 

For a moment, his annoyance strikes through his fear of Megatron. "If you can break out of all your holding cells so easily, why don't you just get off this ship?!" 

"I regret to inform you that I've yet to grow wings. Embarrassing, I know. If you would land though, I could-" 

At that, he calls on some goons to escort you out and back to a supposedly more secure cell. You break out of that one soon after as well. Much to his irritation, you have no intention at all of cooperating. 

Weeks later, Starscream has given up letting his subordinates keep an eye on you for the most part. He placed you in a cage in his own quarters, yet you still cause him headaches by getting out of the so called enclosures. Maybe he should get more creative, you think, getting out of each predicament within a day. 

This cycle breaks once his boss shows up again. As they discuss plans of attack on earth and some rival group, you tilt your head with interest. When bombs get brought up, hope lights up your face. 

"Ooh, are you planning on attacking or blowing anything up?" You ask with a bright, far too innocent grin for the words you speak. "Can I give some suggestions, pretty please?" 

"Starscream," the taller one begins, "your pet is... distracting." 

"For-forgive me, Lord Megatron! It really should learn how to shut up but unfortunately, I cannot get rid of it just yet. Given that-!" 

"C'mon, I've been a decent and polite guest. Why not do me this little, tiny favour real quick? Grant your prisoner the smallest bit of happiness?" You swing your legs back and forth, leaning your head between the bars with a faint, casual smile. 

Megatron or whatever he was called takes a step that echoes through the room, turning to face you. "Word has it that you are the one who created our current energon scanners. Is that true?" 

"Hm? Oh, yeah, I made a bet with that guy. He said I couldn't do it, so I did." 

"Interesting..." he trails off, turning back to the other one. "Starscream, if this one is as useful as claimed, why have you yet to put it to work?" 

"You... you see, My Lord, this one is a... bit of a peculiar case." He laughs nervously. "It doesn't feel pain and doesn't seem to care much for... well, anything, Master. I've simply been too busy trying to- trying to bring you back and assisting you to pay so much attention to a mere organic like this one!" 

"I'd be willing to accept employment. He's only offered slave labor, though." You side-eye your captor with a particularly nasty and well deserved look. 

Megatron side-eyes Starscream as well, though probably for different reasons than yours. The so called commander shrieks, after which Megatron turns to you. "If those systems truly are of your making, then you have proven your usefulness. So, speak, organic: tell me what it is that you are after." 

"I don't want much in return as payment, just... resources for my personal project." 

"Your personal project?" He questions with an amused, mocking smirk, "and what might that be?" 

"I want to dismantle all current sociopolitical systems of the human world," you respond without skipping a beat. "Does that answer your question?" 

His expression shifts, still sort of mocking but with contained intrigue creeping in. "I... suppose it does. Although I must inquire what exactly would motivate one of your kind to go to such... drastic lengths." 

"My motives and past are irrelevant," you respond, "all you need to know is that I cannot exist with my kind, not with the world as it is." 

Thankfully, he does not seem to care about your background that much. He hums in acceptance of your answer. "Well then, I assume you've already come to terms with the thought of aiding in the destruction of your own kind?" 

"If we are not strong enough to survive, then humanity deserves to perish. That much is only natural selection." 

"Ah, a creature after my own spark." A smirk grows on his lips as he crossed the room again. He is still hardly taking you seriously but enjoying the conversation nonetheless. "Pray tell, do you have any hope in the survival of your species... or is it certain doom that you are aiming for?" 

"I have faith, but our decay has always been inevitable. With or without your assistance, my species is headed to certain doom." 

"Very well. Prove yourself to not be a mere one hit wonder, and your wish shall be granted. If that is something you are capable of, rest assured you'll be relieved to have chosen the winning side." 

"Glad to be on board, sir." You smile, but sadly your handshake offer gets ignored. 

"It is 'Lord'," he corrects, already scowling from irritation. 

"Well, there's no need for such titles. You may simply call me by my name." You smile casually, knowingly. 

The silence that follows hangs heavy over the room. Annoyed enough to consider murder but too amused to follow through, he responds, "you shall work on that." 

"On what? I believe I'm already perfect as I am." Your perfect little self soon yelps and falls with the lower half of the cage to the not-so-perfect big ground. 

He blasted the prison in half with some sort of lazer. It was clearly a warning, the final one given before he left the room. His grumbling and whining second-in-command was left with the task of guiding you to your new laboratory: a barely used site in need of maintenance. 

It could be better though it could be worse. The oversized equipment may be a bit inconvenient, but you could make it work. You always find a way, after all. 

[guillotinesandroses]

Hello, I've decided to drop in and announce that I will be free from my prison next Wednesday! I'm not going to really be interacting with or checking any activity until then so I don't get distracted, but I might take a look at some already finished stuff I could post in the meantime :]

[guillotinesandroses]

Blemished By Life; Chapter 11 - See Through Tears

Tokyo Revengers Reader Insert, Gender Neutral Isekai'd Reader

Blemished By Life Masterlist

The water was clear as if from a mountain river. 

Well, not that you would know; you have never splashed your face with water from a mountain river. It was just some more poetry your brain spat out to calm itself down. Starting off by visiting your calmer friend and his sisters only cooled your nerves down a little bit. They were the least intense bunch out of your close friends, but your heart still hammers against your ribs when you knock on their door. Luna swings it open, gasps, then hugs you tight despite only reaching your stomach. 

"Taka, Mana, look who came over! C'mon, come quick!" She screams, bouncing up and down in excitement, nearly knocking her head onto your chin. You chuckle awkwardly, trying to avoid the destruction of your teeth by placing your hands on her shoulders. 

Initially, the two mentioned walk over with annoyance, but their expressions soften with shock as they see your anxious self. In an instant, you get pulled inside the house. Mana whines: "you haven't been over in like, forever!"

"Sorry about that..." 

"Did something happen?" Mitsuya asks. 

"Nothing... bad happened, just... I couldn't visit for a while. I mean, stuff did happen, but-" 

"C'mon, I wanna show you the dollhouse Taka' made me!" 

"No, I'm showing the teddy I made! Taka' taught me how to sew like he does!" 

With his sisters distracted, Mitsuya pulls you aside. "Why did you disappear?" 

You hesitate, then sigh. "It will sound stupid." 

"I want to know anyway." 

"Thing is, I... I'm not really comfortable talking about it yet." 

"Is it personal?" 

"Yes, sort of." 

"Okay then... has it been handled?" 

"Yeah, the problem... I figured it out. Don't worry about it." 

He nods. "Well, I guess that's what matters. You can tell me later if you want to." 

"Thanks... and yeah, once I get my thoughts sorted out on that, I will, I promise." As soon as you finish that sentence, his sisters rush back in. At that moment you go back to acting as the cool older friend type, grinning and going along with their whims.

Mitsuya watches, torn between joining now that you are back or taking a moment to relax for himself. Alas, the clock cuts off his decision making time quickly. There are still people you want to reconcile with today, so you put your shoes back on and step out the door. The sisters try to get you to stay, but let you go after being pestered by their older brother. 

"Bye bye! Please don't be gone for another two years!" Luna waves you off. With an awkward grimace, you return the gesture. 

Whew, first stop of the checklist has now officially been checked off. That went fairly well. In the following locations you are at a much higher risk of getting punched. You wonder if you should try to dodge or just let Keisuke take his anger out on you. That would only hurt for a while, and avoiding it might only lead to a bigger fight. 

A blob of a random boy smacks onto and stumbles against the pavement, having fallen from the second floor of a building. You blink, trying to register what the fuck just happened, barely noticing the cat curling up to sleep on your legs. Leaning over, you poke at the bird's nest of a haircut the boy has. "Hey... are you dead or dying? If you are, I have a consent form for this totally legal organ donations thing you can sign-" 

"I'M NOT DEAD!" He shouts, jumping up in a mixture of shock and terror. "What is wrong with you?!" 

"More like what's wrong with your hair. It's in worse condition than your knees and it didn't even hit the pavement." 

"Hah?! What'd you just say about my hair?!" 

"You heard me." You shrug, only to block a punch. "I'm just being honest, y'know..." 

"Ugh, whatever, give me my cat back!" 

"Hm... if you open that building's front door for me, sure." 

"Why d'ya wanna get into my house?" He raises a brow with suspicion, eyeing the cat purring at your feet. 

"My friend lives in the same building. I wanted to surprise him, so I've been waiting for someone to walk in or out so I can slip by." 

"There's no way someone who wanted to harvest my organs has intentions that pure!" 

"Well, I'm sort of obligated to ask that when I get the chance to... family business and all." 

"What family business- the yakuza?!" 

"Homura never made that clear, to be honest..." 

A bead of sweat rolls down his temple as he frowns nervously. "Ugh... fine, I guess. I'll open the door for you." 

"Thank you very much!" You smile, picking up the mewing cat and bringing it indoors. He murmurs a quiet, anxious thanks when you help him bring the cat to his apartment, seemingly worried about you knowing where he lives. Really, you were mostly joking about the organ donation thing but if it helps make people listen to you, perhaps you should start using that card more often. Even so, getting inside the aparment complex was easily the simplest part of this mission. 

You took a deep breath before knocking on the door. It swings open, nearly hitting you in the face. Once it reveals the brown-haired boy, he stares at you with a slacked jaw for a solid minute. 

The next thing you know, your nose hurts and his fist reels back. If it were not him, you would have stopped it and certainly not have let him tackle you to the floor. He groans in frustration, spouting curses and shaking your shoulders. Then he lunges in for a hug and sobs, staining your shirt with tears he would claim he never shed. "Where the hell did you go?!" 

"Hey... stop that..!" you mumble as he crushes your ribs. 

"Stop what..?! You don't deserve mercy!" 

"No, seriously, the dramatic sobbing!" You frown, blinking tears away. "You're gonna make me cry too, goddammit..!" 

"I'm not crying!" 

"Yes, you are!" 

"Nuh-uh!" 

"Yuh-uh!" 

About two minutes was all it took to revert back into the nonsense you used to get up to with him after two years of radio silence. The punch was probably deserved. In any case, he pretends to not have cared, then proceeds to slam the door in your face because he is still mad you left him like that- so much for indifference. 

You sigh, exasperated but far too fond for even your own liking. It makes you regret ever leaving. The happy reactions keep shocking the life out of you. Maybe you just cannot comprehend being cared for in such a way. Maybe you had yet to understand that kind of love when you left. 

Either way, all those thoughts seem to spell out for you is how hard facing the Sano family is going to be. It will obviously be the most difficult visit. Still, you take a deep breath, correct your posture and ring the doorbell. Swift footsteps rush to open it, and as soon as shocked amber eyes meet yours, you raise a hand nervously. "Hello... sorry, forgot to get the milk." 

A blur of blonde hair nearly knocks you over. Smaller hands squeeze firmly around your waist as the girl's chest shakes against yours in overwhelmed sobs. You smile in a mixture of embarrassment and guilt, patting her on the back. She hits yours once, startling you, but you laugh it off. "There, there..." 

Your gaze drifts up, meeting Manjiro's bewildered one. All he does is stare in shock, shoulders slumping as he blinks with a parted mouth. You do not get the opportunity to throw even one sarcastic comment his way, how sad. As soon as Emma lets go of you, another pair of hands, bigger this time, land on your shoulders. 

"Never pull anything like that again! Got it?!" Shinichiro shouts but not with a harsh edge, a really worried one instead. 

"I promise."

Manjiro smugly crosses his arms, leaning onto the staircase's railing. "I told you (Name) would be coming back. The rest of y'all were just dumb for thinking they were gone for good." 

Emma huffs, unamused. "You're saying that like you weren't crying about it every night! We could all hear you, ya know?" 

"I didn't cry! Not even once!" Manjiro snaps back. 

"Yeah, you did!" 

"Did not!" 

You cover your mouth to keep from laughing. If you did that, their ire would be directed back to you, no matter how freshly non-missing you are. Emma and Shinichiro swarm you for the rest of the evening, their grandfather does too once he gets back from the store. Manjiro remains surprisingly quiet, but you can barely even get a chance to notice that with how eager the others are to have your attention and ask questions. Only after Emma gets ushered to brush her teeth and Shinichiro notices Manjiro to be missing, do you get a moment to breathe by yourself. 

Going outside, you inhale the fresh air and march onto the stairs leading up to the hill the house rests on. Too many emotions: you had to go and clear your head. That went a lot better than you expected. You did not get punched even once this time, unless Emma's whacks on your back count. With how much you grew and learned in that time, it is difficult to regret leaving. 

However, it is much more difficult to regret not coming back sooner. The sun falls down, slow as always while it paints the sky shades of peach yellow and rosa. Evening air fills your lungs, cool as it brings your soul alive. 

A call of your name snaps you out of your thoughts. Manjiro walks closer and you turn around fully now. He comes to a full stop standing right before you, in an arms reach. You try to awkwardly greet him to ease the tension, but he only stares blankly at the ground. Your nervous gulp gets cut off by his jump. 

Squeezed into a hug, your hands are left to lay limp at your sides in surprise. He holds you like you could disappear if he let go for just a second. "Don't leave again." 

Your eyes widen as you realize why he stayed so silent earlier. He did not want to act like this in front of the others. "Did you... miss me?" 

"Of course! Of course, I missed you!" His voice breaks and he refuses to pull back. Your lips part in surprise, hands still hovering awkwardly over his back. 

He missed you. Someone missed you. Only now does it hit you that he, and the others too, wanted you around, desperately so after you were gone. That is unusual. That is new. 

The street behind him blurs. Your face grows wet. You blink slow, letting the salt scratch against your cheeks. A teardrop burns into the scar dragging across your lips. You lick it away, trying to desperately fight back a tremor itching to run through your spine. 

To hide it, you wrap your arms around him as tight as his stay around you. Focused on holding your voice firm, you speak quietly, "I'm sorry." 

"I didn't... think it would affect you this much," you admit, eyes still hazy. "I didn't think it could affect anyone this much." 

He stays quiet for a while and his hold tightens. "Promise you won't leave. I don't care why you left. Just don't do it again. I won't let you do it again." 

"I promise," you say, adjusting your hold and repeating it: "I promise." 

You let him cling onto you for as long as he wants to. That is, until he slumps against you, limp in your arms. His head still leans against yours, arms weakly grasping your shirt. Breathing out, you find a way to pick him and carry him to his room. After settling him down on his bed, you linger to sort your thoughts out. 

It is obvious how much that moment meant for him, what it took from him to show that much vulnerability. That means a lot of trust from the average person, even more from someone like him. It moved you much more than you thought it could. That means you care about them even more than you already thought you did. What a risky move staying will be for your health, what a risky move it is to adore someone so much they could make or break your world. 

Will it be worth that risk? You glance back at his sleeping form. A line of drool runs onto the pillow, forming a puddle as he snores away. His hair points to far too many directions, and his reddened cheeks show he did cry despite having hidden it well. The fond smile falling to your lips tells too much, answering the question for you. 

It might not be something you can hope to comprehend: why anyone would feel so strongly for someone like you. Even so, you can see the way your escape hurt everyone. Following your impulses and selfish need to be alone caused nothing but pain. You frown, repeating your promise never to do it again. 

Ultimately, running away is useless. You can try, pretend it is to protect them, but they could also be in just as much or even more danger without you around. At least by staying close to them, you can do your damn best to protect them until your last breath. 

You apologize again, quietly closing the door to Manjiro's room. You promise to bear your burden and never leave them again. That much will stay true, even if they end up leaving you. 

[guillotinesandroses]

Completed Requests - 2026

Drowning in Moonlight - Demon Slayer

You, a former hashira, embraced the form of a demon all too well.

Characters: Giyuu Tomioka, Mitsuri Kanroji, Obanai Iguro, Sanemi Shinazugawa, Muichiro Tokito, Gyomei Himejima, Shinobu Kocho, Kyojuro Rengoku, Tengen Uzui, Kanae Kocho

Beautiful - Winter Edition - Marvel Rivals

Their significant others call them beautiful for the first time.

Characters: Luna Snow, Emma Frost

Serpent Tsukugo - Demon Slayer

Becoming Obanai Iguro's apprentice (and younger sibling figure)

Characters: Obanai Iguro

[guillotinesandroses]

Headcanons - 2026 Masterlist

Demon Slayer

Drowning in Moonlight

You, a former hashira, embraced the form of a demon all too well.

Characters: Giyuu Tomioka, Mitsuri Kanroji, Obanai Iguro, Sanemi Shinazugawa, Muichiro Tokito, Gyomei Himejima, Shinobu Kocho, Kyojuro Rengoku, Tengen Uzui, Kanae Kocho

Serpent Tsukugo

Becoming Obanai Iguro's apprentice (and younger sibling figure)

Characters: Obanai Iguro

Marvel Rivals

Beautiful - Winter Edition

Their significant others call them beautiful for the first time.

Characters: Luna Snow, Emma Frost

[guillotinesandroses]

Hey could we get a magik x reader relationship fluff pls?

The Soft and the Sharp

The scent of flour and sugar fills the kitchen, spreading from the dough that fingers knead. Just as sweet, however, are the words spilling from the couple baking, who moved in together only a little while ago. "I still can't believe we're able to just... be like this: do chores together, worry about normal-people things..." 

"Me neither. You get used to it, I guess," Illyana comments. 

"Mm, I don't know if I want to get used to it... and I don't think I will." You laugh. "After all, who could've thought I'd ever get such an attractive and charming girlfriend? I'll feel this elated until the end of eternity." 

"Still such a shameless flirt... some things never change." She shakes her head with an exasperated smile. 

You lean closer with a coy smirk. "Well, I can't help it... not when you're so gorgeous, with those hypnotizing amber eyes, royal long hair, and a body that would-" 

"Shouldn't you be on a leash?" She huffs (though it comes out more like a chuckle), flicking your forehead. 

"Ow! I can't believe you'd hurt me like this..." 

"T'was just a little love tap. You'll be fine." 

"You could kiss it better. Then I'll forgive you." 

"Hm... no, I don't think you need it." 

"Cruel," you mutter, then smirk and swipe some pancake batter on her face. 

"Hey-! Seriously?" She wipes it off, turning to stare you down. However, you have already fled the kitchen, taking steps towards the couch. "Retreating after initiating a conflict? Coward." 

"No, no, I'd just rather not fight." You back away nonchalantly. 

"Is it because of your own fear, or do you think I am afraid of being hurt?"

"I'd just rather not have you waste your time on me. I am nothing but chivalrous, after all... and you're so busy you can't even give me a little kiss." 

"Pretty bold of you to say that after using my face as a napkin, my love." She rolls her eyes, pulling up her sleeves a little further up. "Fine, I see how it is." 

"Are you really sure you want to do this- against me?" 

"Aww, do you actually think you'd win? Adorable." 

"Well, I'm just saying- eh... nevermind." 

"Oh, no, go on. I'd love to see where this goes." 

"You're looking at me a little too intensely with that fruit... I just don't want to make a mess-" 

"Oh, but you will." She cackles, lunging at you. "Bring it on!" 

"Wait, at least let me get off the couch!" 

"Fine, then come over here!" She just barely misses your shoulder. 

"Woah-!" You slip under her arm just to be pulled back. 

"Not so fast!" She slides you forward and under her, placing her weight on your abdomen to keep you down. "Too easy."

"I got you now." Her smirk grows as you try to wiggle in her hold. Making eye-contact becomes increasingly difficult for you as she tightens her grip. 

"Look at you struggle." She coos, leaning closer until her body's warmth brushes against your face. "Did I break your spirit?" 

Usually in this sort of position, Darkchild would urge her to tear her claws through her victim's flesh. However, this time, a different urge overtakes her as she holds you down. It is sinful all the same. She could sink her teeth into your neck, gnaw on the flesh and leave the marks that she is entitled to. You should scream her name until her touch is all your body can recognize. 

Her face twitches, surprised and then flustered. She quickly covers it up, shaking her head as if no blush had ever grown on her face. The truth is that she could never be too rough with you, even if it were something you would want. Darkchild would only get carried away the moment Illyana's attention faltered. She would forget you are just a regular person- there is only so much your fragile body can take. 

She clears her throat and gives your space back, rising to her feet. You watch her with curious eyes as she sits back on the couch and motions for you to come closer. "I deserve a reward for winning, da? This couch is not quite like my throne in Limbo... but it'll do for now. So come, my prize, entertain me." 

You happily oblige, bouncing up and settling in her lap. She wraps her arms around your middle, shifting you closer until you sit flush against her. Your breath hitches when her fingers slide under your shirt, but all they do is stop around the sides of your spine. While your mind indulges in similar thoughts to what she had earlier, she absentmindedly traces your skin. What she concerns herself is much darker, and she wants to feel your warmth as she searches those cold depths. 

Thus far, Darkchild has rarely showed any intention of harming you. However, her darker side's nature, demonic in origin, is fickle. For now, it seems to fancy you her mate in whatever primal, harsher manner it views romantic partners as. That could change any moment though, as far as Illyana knows. Even if Darkchild's interest in you remains positive (as positive as it can get, that is), that does not necessarily mean you would be safe, either. 

Darkchild plays rough and knows no tenderness. Illyana has only learned bits and pieces about the subject until now. One day she might wake up to find her hands soaked in blood. Others she can defend you from, but it is far more difficult to fight one's own mind. In this selfish quest of love, she may wind up hurting others, too- the innocent ones. 

Jealousy wells up inside her when you speak too kindly with them, share a laugh too loud with them. She wants to rip you from their grasp and tear them to shreds, bring you back to your queen's side where you belong. She wants to cling to your sleeve and beg you to keep her, whine and throw a tantrum until you pay attention to her only. 

Illyana has the power to do both, but all she does is watch. The latter would be humiliating, and the former would be violent. Power swirls through her veins and around her: corruption and hellfire. Although that is what it stems from, she does not have to let it control her. So she was told in her youth, but this fear will never leave her: the fear of doing something irreversible. 

You run your fingers through her hair, waiting for her to come back. She spaces out at times but you keep her company nonetheless. Once the focus blinks back into her eyes, you ask: "are you feeling well?" 

She shakes her head with a chuckle, placing her chin over your shoulder. "Worry about yourself, love." 

"I do that enough, I think." 

"Nonsense." 

"There's no use in arguing about this, is there?" you ask with soft chuckle. "Let's just both take care of each other." 

"Right," she murmurs quietly, holding you just a little closer. Her eyes grow half-lidded as her claws rest over your skin. They wait, never as much as stinging, serving as protective thorns for the rose she picked to be hers. "Let's face it together... whatever is to come." 

[guillotinesandroses]

obanai with tsuguko reader that has a personality & past like kanao and also has a big facial scar????

Serpent Tsukugo

At first he protested against the idea of taking on a tsukugo. Then he found out about your origins and difficulties, and protested even harder. His training methods are brutal and he has many sharp edges for someone so vulnerable to cut themselves with. He expects perfection from his peers, especially of those whom work closely with him. A new demon slayer like you would only waste his time and irritate him. 

Either way, he ended up taking on you as an apprentice regardless of his doubts. Master Kagaya must have insisted on giving him this task for a reason. Therefore, must approach your training with the same seriousness as the rest of his responsibilities as a demon slayer. Upon your first meeting, his dual-colored irises widened at the sight of a massive scar dragging over your face, easily covering half of the surface. The edges were jagged and the skin messy, making it difficult to guess where it could have even come from. Obanai adjusted the bandages over the frown on his lips, knowing from the dull, lifeless look in your glassy eyes that this endeavor might end up weighing on him just the same as you. 

You did absolutely nothing without being told to do it first. Even if he gave you very specific instructions that you would follow perfectly the first time, you glanced around hesitantly when he would later ask what you should do in such a situation. His exasperation grew as time passed on, but the way you kept tensing up forced him to lessen the amount of tired sighs and cruel advice he usually gave. Still, he finds himself being much less uncomfortable in your presence than he thought he would. It took him a while to figure out why, when most people, especially other demon slayers, unnerved him. 

In time he understood it was because you wore no masks. All of your past and suffering echoed in your rigid movements, expressionless face, and the scar dragging down it. Those years of your young life have sunk their teeth into you, letting the venom carelessly flood your veins. Like himself and many of his peers, you could never live a normal life. It would be spent dwelling on old regrets and obsessions, and suddenly he understood why he was chosen, though still disagreed with the decision. 

Problems kept rising from the simplest things, like sharing meals together. He barely has an appetite since eating is far too burdensome. There should have been no issue in handing you food and then going on his way. However, you just would not eat. Instead of sitting down to enjoy your meal, you followed him around like a lost baby chick, only taking hesitant bites when he was chewing on something as well. He ended up needing to eat more and more frequently, which was all your fault since you refused to do it otherwise. 

For the most part there were no incidents, and it was not as if you ever sought to interact with the other slayers to begin with. However, one day a couple of less skilled ones decided to size you up as the serpent hashira's tsukugo, going as far as to mock the scar that tore up your features. Obanai overheard it and berated the both of them into sobbing, sniveling messes and gave them the worst parts of cleaning duty for the rest of eternity. That he might have managed to do, but by then, the damage was done. You withdrew a little more again, and since then, he found you staring at your reflection in the bodies of water, mirrors or windows you came across. 

In the end, this led to him sighing and removing his bandages in front of another for the first time. He wanted you to feel less alone by showing he had some too, only to get gut-punched by a question he should have, yet did not expect. If there is nothing wrong with scars, why does he hide his own? Should you hide yours too, you ask. Obanai cannot find a response to that, stunned speechless. 

His answer would shape your perception on yourself: your appearance and your worth as a person. This is one of the many reasons he had not wanted to take on a young apprentice, let alone someone so vulnerable. He cannot fix someone else when he cannot even fix himself, but for now, Obanai decides to do the unthinkable: he keeps his bandages off whenever he is with you. No one dares to question him and his fellow hashira only seem to view this as a positive development- the way Mitsuri fawned over seeing his full face would replay in his happiest dreams for a good several months after. On other occasions he keeps the bandages on for his own comfort and for sanitary reasons, but even after you come to terms with your own scars again, he keeps them off in your presence. 

As training goes on and you improve like a prodigy, Obanai wonders if he should get you something to celebrate. He has more than enough money to spare as a hashira, so he figures giving gifts would work well as a reward. Unfortunately, he has no idea what the average child would want. He himself never got anything, after all. You never seemed to mind, collecting any items he would give to box which you took great care of. It was never dusty, not on the outside or inside, and each object was placed and taken out with the utmost precision and thought. 

Obanai believed that to be excessive and said as much, but who was he to complain when you looked so happy? Although he had insisted on letting you go as soon as your skills were sufficient enough for you to be known as his tsukugo, he found himself changing his mind far quicker than he ever thought he could. When you point at someone accusingly in the same way he tends to do when annoyed, he knows it is far too late; he absolutely adores his little student, tugging the bandages to be firmer over his amused smirk. 

If anyone makes a move on you and he hears it, his nose scrunches up in disgust and he stares down the poor maggot who dared to do so. As if anyone could be worthy of his apprentice, let alone someone so insignificant and worthless. In the end though, he just does not want anyone to take advantage of your obliviousness. He knows from listening to Mitsuri's experiences that even the Demon Slayer Core has its own lecherous creeps. Obanai made damn sure that your uniform prioritized practicality above all else, scaring the living shit out the kakushi responsible for it in the process. 

Anything he could do to light up your mostly absent expression, he would. The excuse he gives himself and others is that you have done him proud with your training results, but deep inside he knows that is far from the whole truth. He wonders if this is how normal sibling relationships are meant to be. Tutoring someone to slay demons is the last place he expected to find a sense of normalcy from. However, the more time you spend together at the fields, the more it resembles an older brother teaching a younger sibling how to write. Either way, you have grown into one of the few he treasures, and he looks forward to creating a better world with you, passing on all that he knows. 

[guillotinesandroses]

Hi, had this pop into my head and thought it would be cute. Luna Snow and Emma Frost’s (separate) s/o calling them beautiful for the first time. Like they’re used to hearing it from others, but hearing it from them elicits a totally different reaction.

Contains: fluff, suggestive endings, both characters are pretty flirty so that's just how it went :p

Beautiful

Luna Snow

Seol Hee freezes when you say it. It slipped out half-unintentionally while you were resting at a bathhouse she had rented for the two of you. The intentions behind it were pure, she knows that much, and giggles when she recovers from the surprise. Her cheeks grow a pretty shade of red, though not because of the cold mountain air or the hot spring she bathes in. Her teeth tug on the inside of her cheek as she tries to figure out why her heart beats so fast now, warmer than the crystalline water. 

She hears it all the time, shouted up to the stage she dances on and in the comments of fans all over the world. She has heard the opposite as well, critics trying to tear her apart piece by piece. Never has she felt as underdressed as now, suddenly hyper-aware of every detail of her body. Usually in public she walks around decked out in all sorts of glamour, with and without you, wearing even grander clothes on stage, yet you call her beautiful as she laughs at her own bad joke, tired and recovering from a recently ended tour? You have praised her before but never uttered the word beautiful, and no one else has ever said it with such sincere adoration or awe. 

As she sits there, face and soul bare of makeup, she cannot help but avert her heterochromatic eyes, looking more flustered than she would prefer. To gain back control of the situation, she chuckles and brushes some of her dark hair behind one ear. She bats her lashes and blinks up at you from under them with a coy smile. If she must endure technical difficulties from your pretty words, then you need to share in that sweet suffering as her partner! She inches closer with plans as hot as the water, a hand on your exposed thigh, and maybe, if everything goes well, she might just give this show an encore later in your shared room. 

Emma Frost

Initially, all Emma Frost does is chuckle. It certainly took you long enough to notice, darling. The White Queen barely has to lift a finger to seduce an entire room, after all. Nothing can break her and nothing escapes her grasp. She knows she is flawless, but reminders are appreciated, she supposes. 

Then Emma thinks about it a moment longer, icy irises staring at the tip of your pen scratching against a sketchbook. Her manicured nails have yet to dry, but she watches the colors glitter as they move all the same. They are perfect as they always are, and she looks as good as any lingerie model in her short and sleek nightgown. Of course she does, never breaking character for a second even as she rests. People cannot tear their eyes off her yet here you are, sitting in bed beside her and only giving out a passing but genuine compliment. She huffs in amusement, remembering exactly why she decided she had to have you.

Your eyes gaze deeper than her gorgeous, tough, and expensive surface. It found the one miniscule weak spot in her armor. You really did earn yourself a queen, now, did you not? Different from the leering eyes of men at clubs or on the street, you look at her through the lens of an artist- how charming is that? You really should be more careful, honey; be any more adorable and she might have to lock you up in a pretty, diamond-clad cage. She smirks and takes the sketchbook out of your hands, pushing you down on the mattress. You have had her doing enough thinking about yourself, dear. Now, it is time for your thoughts to become all about her. 

[guillotinesandroses]

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[guillotinesandroses]

How do you think the Hashira would react individually if a now ex Hashira who was not only a close friend to them but also well respected and trusted became a demon? Like, they went on a mission, never came back, and were probably presumed dead… only for the Hashira to see them again months or even years later as an Upper Moon probably mid eating a guy, basically an evil version of that other fic “those unwanted wisps” 😭

The reader probably still recognizes the Hashira but it is up to you how they react

I love your work so much it’s ridiculous 🙏

Note: Honestly, I love writing for morally dubious or outright evil characters :p It's so fun to just throw them into the world to see how they interact :] Thank you for the request!

Anyway, for the others: these headcanons focus on the concept of a truly demonic Reader Insert rather than just one who was simply turned into a demon. For more elaborated thoughts on the hashiras' grieving processes, check out Those Unwanted Wisps. I imagine their relationship to have been the same before RI's disappearance in this one, but the RI isn't as selfless of a person as they thought. In this version RI loses but if asked, I might do a version where RI wins. 

Characters: Giyuu Tomioka, Mitsuri Kanroji, Iguro Obanai, Sanemi Shinazugawa, Gyomei Himejima, Muichiro Tokito, Shinobu Kocho, Kyojuro Rengoku, Tengen Uzui, and Kanae Kocho

Contains: implied murder and cannibalism, mentioned suicide, hurt no comfort

Drowning in Moonlight

Giyuu Tomioka

Grief crashes over him in waves with each moon cycle that passes after your disappearance. Time should heal yet with each passing month, his lungs fill with more heaviness, murky waters weighing down his sword. The changing seasons, from summer to autumn and winter, only add drops to the side of fate's scales betting on your death. Unfortunately, where you ended up was not so simple and honorable as the afterlife. Wintry rain rolls down his face, black hair sticking to it as he stares into your inhuman irises. 

Your demonic visage is no hallucination, no matter how much he wishes it were. Boldness and optimism turned to ruthlessness and determination, self-awareness to calculated efforts to remove your so called flaws: your humanity. The memories of how easily you took him in and enjoyed his presence hurt in their quiet irony. Even as you explain why you accepted the offer, his expression remains stone-cold, storm hidden behind his ocean eyes. Responsibility clashes against every memory he has tried to drown. 

Playing tsume shogi and talking late into the night, sharing rare smiles and eating fish together- everything Giyuu has tried to stifle crashes over him once more. His chest constricts, heart at odds with his mind. Before him stands the one he has missed so much, but the person inside is different. He doesn't recognize you by your words, sorrow welling into hatred as he glares at the kanji in your eye. Feeling this betrayal must wait for later; he needs to fulfill his duty, even if it means ending someone he used to love. 

Your extended hand is the most insulting gesture you could have given. You are no mindless monster; you remember him, ask to 'save him'. All the humans you saved and spent time with, what are they to you now? You want him to fall with you too, did you forget what that means? Giyuu breathes in, readying his blade. 

You need no further hints. Clashing midair, the first hits are shared. His mind hangs torn between seeing this as another sparring session or slaughtering mission. Thankfully, you always were talented enough for him to take you seriously. He steadies himself against a tree and jumps away from your next attack. 

The log bursts into pieces, falling with such force it breaks the ground into a crater. Your breathing techniques let you gain strength much faster than the average demon: a cruel bastardization of what they are meant to be used for. His anger overflows but he knows he needs to stay calm. Those hits will land on his body otherwise, and one almost did in his distraction. The battle rages on for hours, destroying the landscape but neither side shows signs of exhaustion. 

His sandals sink into water and wet sand before he knows it; the battle's course has taken you to the shore. With raging waves taking over the darkened sky and rocky mountains, the battlefield grows unpredictable. The environmental advantage grants him the killing blow. Your eyes widen with a heart-wrenching terror before they fly clean off with your head. The bleeding corpse falls to its knees, tides washing away your dust. 

He won yet tears roll down his cheeks. The sword trembles in his grasp as does his lower lip with teeth digging into the flesh. Even your selfless heart could be swayed by that corrupt blood. Clutching the pendant you gave to him long ago, he swears to never let this happen again. He blames himself; he wasn't there when you needed him the most.

He has never been good enough to save those who have always had his back. You lived in torment, losing the person you were. He could not save you then, protect humanity, yours, like he should have. Guilt claws in his chest at the thought, and it likely forever will keep doing so. Your absence already left an abyss in his heart. It falls deeper, soul replaying the distorted reflection he saw of you. 

If only he could convince himself it was nothing but a mirage. Unfortunately, he knows better. Worse, he knows better than to commit seppuku for atonement. He deserves to suffer with his mistakes, to make himself useful until someone deems his failures unacceptable enough. Tonight's events will haunt him for eternity, and for the rest of his short life he struggles between what-ifs and all he should have done instead. 

Mitsuri Kanroji

Meeting you again seemed like only a wishful daydream, yet still she waited on you for so long. Someone so powerful, wonderful and beautiful could not just vanish out of her life like this. She hoped you found someone to love and ran away with that person, making up fantasies of your generous self getting too caught up in helping others to come back. Mitsuri was never childish enough to really believe everything went so perfectly for you, but she could not have seen this coming. Before thinking, as soon as she sees your familiar visage in the distance, she rushes to embrace you. 

In deep relief and elation, she calls out your name and tackles you into a hug. You both fall to the ground as she giggles in delight upon seeing you alive and well, but you spare no reaction to what should have been the air getting forced out of your lungs. The silence shocks her and she apologizes for tackling you as her giggles die down. A sigh leaves your lips, not exasperated but content, and your hand guides her head to lean even closer to your own. She almost snuggled into the touch on instinct, only for her heart to jump. 

Something warm and wet smears into her cheek from your palm. The rest of the hand's chill sends a shiver up her spine as sharp nails rest on her temple's frail skin. She pulls herself up with a concerned frown, hovering above your calm features. Your eyes remain on her green ones as her relieved expression twists into terror. Her breath catches in her throat. 

The cute parts of your pretty face have become tainted by demonic features! Admittedly, you are still rather attractive, but that is beside the point! Panicking, Mitsuri rubs her eyes frantically and hopes it will make those demonic bits go away. It does nothing to fix the situation, but you have not attacked her yet! That has to mean something at least, right? 

You rub comforting circles into her shoulders, but the warmth in your touch has dimmed. What used to be a hot summer day has turned into a nip of winter. Desperation bleeds into her expression as she pleads you to tell her what happened. This is still you, it has to be! You have not eaten or killed any humans, the you Mitsuri knows would never do that. 

At least she thought you never would. Her fingers dig into the dirt as she searches your formerly gentle gaze, now brimming with apathy. She needs no confirmation when you offer her your own blood, to share your fate with you. Her heartstrings snap in her ears. All the deaths that left her and others trembling in fury, did you only pretend to feel the same? 

Those who hurt others deserve nothing. You are no exception, but fleeing your hold with a sharp jump wounds her all the same. This sort of loss is brand new to her. Still, she glares down at you through her glossy eyes. Her muscles clench, all of them, her heavy heart and lungs included as she accepts what she has to do. 

A battle of love is the last thing she would have wanted to fight, not in these circumstances. Your claws refrain from scratching her lethally. She struggles to swing her sword too close to you, too. Love is not the issue. You love her enough to spare her, but she loves you too much to let you ruin your humanity. 

She loves humanity too much to let you ruin her. Sunrise gets you as her blade does, crumbling into a bed of flowers. She stares down at the spot you disappeared from this world in: below the dark branches of a cherry blossom tree. Minutes pass before she lowers her sword, and as soon as she relaxes her body, she falls to her knees into the flowers. Mitsuri cannot bring herself to cry, not even to let out the emotion, but she knows this emptiness will linger over her loving heart for years to come. 

Iguro Obanai

Obanai will eternally curse himself for not having taken those rumors seriously. One Hashira was not enough, that is the only reason why you could have been gone for so long. He does not allow himself to grow close to people often, not that many are worth his time to begin with. Maybe he was right to do so, and maybe meeting you was a more than horrid mistake. The one he used to hold to such a high regard, the one he viewed as the ideal demon slayer, stands before him with pupils glowing in the dark, kanji pledging allegiance to the demon lord. 

The rules and etiquette of the organization were engraved into your very bones. Not a shred of mercy lurked in your body, no sympathy at all wasted on those undeserving of it. You used to speak of a time with no demons with such confidence. Now your sympathy extends for no one, old and twisted conviction in your voice as you tell him to join you. The number of people he cares for has been at an all time low for years now. 

How could you do this? How could you, someone so bright and optimistic, invite such filth into your soul? The past flashes through his eyes and he falters. Sharing poems, watching shows of artistry together, sparring, and walking beneath the silence of the stars- how is he meant to let it all slip away from him? No, how could you break the few memories he tried to cradle so close? 

Why would you slam your fist down on something so fragile? The eggs of hope you handed him shattered before they could hatch. You used to smile and tell him even he had a chance at becoming something better. Is there anything you said that he could trust? After all of your reassurance, you still believed he was disturbed enough that he would ever accept your offer to dirty his soul more than it already was. 

Church bells toll in the faraway distance. The sound echoes, reverberates through the rotten landscape, and he strikes. You dodge effortlessly, and he slithers in the air to catch up. Striking again, you threaten to grab him by the neck. His own covered fangs could not reach you then, but the bite of his serpentine sword still can. 

With your own head at stake, you retreat. Falling back onto your own sides of the field, you circle one another. Like snakes rattling their tails, your muscles tense beneath the scales, as do his. Eventually, you have to clash again. That you do, over and over again, attacking and falling back, until one of you makes a mistake come dawn. 

The cut is sharp, fast, and clean, like the bite of a gaboon viper. He does not catch you as you fall. Soon, whatever remained of your corpse is gone. Obanai's stoic expression falters, eyes squinted with unshed tears, face scrunched in despair. Everything about demonkind is utterly unforgivable. His innate selfishness creeps in as he asks how could you, how could you do this to him, as undeserving of anything as he is. 

The more Obanai thinks of it, the more grief and hatred slither within him like his veins. Just as his blood destroyed him, the wicked blood of a demon infected you. He should have coiled around you, kept an unblinking eye out, made sure you would never have lost your ticket to paradise. You always said the past is dead and gone. Still, would that not only mean the person you were died long before you, the moment you turned? 

The bandages over his mouth shift with his subtle grimace, eyes narrowed. There is no way he can move on from your death. Obanai has never had much to himself, has not had the chance to lose something so valuable. Can he ever shed the weight of this loss, the guilt of killing someone, failing to protect someone so close to him? Will he change and be reborn or will his new skin always emerge raw and bloody? 

So he thinks, yet a twisted, upside-down sense of hope seeps in from the world's cruel irony. If someone as pure as you can be corrupted, could someone like him heal? Could his filthy blood be cleansed, could he move on? So he ponders on the possibilities, but he knows he never will find a way to sever his own head. Like a hydra, the sins under his flesh would only grow back worse than before. Trying to find something good out of this is useless, he decides, lost on wishing for a way to change this world. 

Sanemi Shinazugawa

All of this time he spent looking for you, used all for him to find this. Sanemi came up empty-handed for months in his search. Frustration raged inside him, that storm now growing into all-consuming wrath. He knew you were alive, knew it had to be that way, but now he wishes he had found your corpse, what he feared the most, instead. None of the destructive words he shouts out reach the eye of the hurricane waging war within him. 

His face warps in repulsion, especially when you extend a hand out. What, so you lost once and abandoned all your conviction? You are nothing but pathetic. The idea that you would even suggest him to follow you down sets him to strike at you. Obviously, you dodge, sending into motion the cyclone that would inevitably destroy this mountain area. 

Sanemi tries not to think about who you were as he swings his blade. He focuses on your claws, patterns, horns- any nonhuman features he can find. Each one feeds the anger inside him. He hates you, hates what has become of you, and despises you for making him care about you. At worst he thought he would have to face your death. 

Now he has to kill you himself. How cruel is that?! Why would you do this to him, to everyone? He hits harder, much harder than he should when he knows they might not even land. Missteps will only cost him more. No war is won blinded by rage, though it is good fuel if you can see through it. 

Sanemi slices a cut into his arm, marechi blood dripping from the open wound. His scowling mouth gives way to a bitter grin. At last, he can prove to you just how effective his methods are. You lick your lips on reflex, eyes growing half-lidded at the promise of such a drug. It only gives him a second of distraction to exploit but in such an evenly matched battle, every second counts. 

His gale rips off your head. It falls to the ground alongside your body, unceremonious like a bird knocked out of flight. He heaves, out of breath though less from exertion and more from anger. His hands shake as a familiar guilt runs over him, and he almost waits for a door to open. He waits to be declared a monster for hurting someone he loved. Dragging himself back to reality, he scoffs at your fading remains. 

You always loved to underestimate him, damn brat. The insult lacks its usual warmth, though it isn't as harsh as he would have liked it to be. His chin trembles and he snaps his eyes shut. Sanemi tries to choke out the memories the gentle wind brings him. He wants to cry and scream, air out his frustrations and curse the world, yet he stays quiet. 

He will never spar with you again. His beetles will never run up and leave goosebumps on the flesh of your arm. Your teeth will never flash for him in your smile again, and you will never thank him for bringing you food. Despite himself, tears roll down his face in fat streaks as he grits his teeth. Grinding them together, his hand trembles as it digs into his uniform. 

With the other one, he aggressively tries to wipe off the salty teardrops. It does him little good, leaving red marks from his rough palms and tearing open an old wound. In the end, he groans and gives up, shoving his sword away. Rising up to the ceiling, his soul's vortex grows as it absorbs his bitterness and grief as he tries to distract himself from the latter. Already having been set on it, he swears to eradicate every single demon in this world- especially the one who ruined you. 

Gyomei Himejima

Each morning and every night, he prayed for your safety. He fulfilled his duties and stuck to his routines, devoted as always even in the emptiness of your absence. Calm and comforting, your presence was steady as the earth beneath his feet. Now your silence is nothing but eerie as you stand below the humming trees. Your familiar heart moves slower, pumping corrupted blood. 

Your kind voice has been robbed of its warmth, cold as a forgotten blade. At your core you remained brave and ambitious, only now using those traits to wound rather than to protect. You move with the calculated precision of a killer. The weight of a murderer avoiding capture echoes in the way your footsteps creak against the gravel path. You step off it into the shade, watching his face lit up by a lone torch as you ask him to join you in immortality. 

Being in the Demon Slayer Corps means there is no guarantee of tomorrow. He thought you had accepted that, that you would never accept a fate like this. He trusted you to be honest with him. All those soulful talks you shared, the loyal warmth in your voice, was it all a lie? Gyomei knows it was not, and that truth hurts much more than any lie could. 

You changed. The way stray leaves brush past your form changed, the dirt's scratch below your feet changed, and the blood moving within you changed. Nature whimpers in your presence. The earth bows beneath you, trembling under the weight. Your muscles shift, not with gentleness or life, but with echoing indifference. 

The ground shakes as the false stability gives in. The blows exchanged digs out trees by their roots. Such shameless destruction of life- is this what you have become? Was your soul this way since the beginning? Your voice gives no answers. 

Only after the terrain has been ripped to shreds, the battle comes to an end. The brute force he hates in his hands slices your head apart. It falls as your body does: with the magnitude and grace of a cut tree. Like ashes from a burnt incense, the remnants flutter down to join the soil. The corpses of demons cannot even decompose and give life forward to a new one. 

It only speaks of how unnatural their existence is. The blood burning away from his large hands stings as it goes. They are cursed, and you joined in on their tragedy of many. Through only that one mistake you surrendered to a long and arduous cycle of redemption. Your fear was understandable, but your actions still unforgivable. 

Allowing oneself to die is against the very nature of any living being. Teardrops fall from his milky eyes. You could have died human, died with your dignity intact. How long will he have to wait for the next life that your paths shall cross in? Karma has forsaken you, just as you have forsaken karma. 

He murmurs a quiet prayer, unsure what to think as his palms press together. No amount of power can serve to save some, in body or in spirit. He thought he had seen into your core, understood the depths of your soul. Perhaps he was far too optimistic to trust so soon, just as blind in his heart as in his eyes. You would have damned him as well if given the chance, just like those kids at the monastery. 

His flute will lie dormant within his robes for long after this day. Who else would read so deep into the sounds of his heart? Your life grew to be nothing but another tragedy among many. The blood on his hands may have faded, but the weight of taking a life will never change. He will carry it with him, heavier than any stone, all the way until his own time has come. 

Muichiro Tokito

Something has missing, he could tell. Pangs of emptiness ran through him but he did not know why. As soon as he remembers, he wishes he had not. Your thoughts used to be kind: he knew from the letters you used to write for him months ago. Emotions should not distract him from his duties, yet the grip on his blade falters when his eyes meet yours own, glowing in the moonlight. 

Its shine grows hazy with the clouds floating to block it. Part of his mind cleared upon seeing your face. You are one who was been haunting him. Well, a demon is a demon and therefore should be slain. Muichiro takes a stance and a deep breath, mist gathering as he readies his blade. However, an intense squeeze of his heart freezes him in place. 

At first Muichiro wonders if it is a Blood Demon Art at play, but that is quickly ruled out. His body forced him to stop as if hurting you was inherently wrong, against his very nature. At first it frustrates him, then he gasps, eyes soon glossed over. For a moment all of it shrouds his senses, overpowering the fog. Your fingers brushing through his hair, struggling to fold paper with an embarrassed smile, playfully competitive games of shogi- all of that and more flows back into the forefront of his mind. 

No, he cannot kill you. He could never kill you, let go of someone like you. Wait, what is he thinking? You are a demon, soaked in blood! Your claws have killed, there is no way he ever accepted your company, let alone laughed with you! 

You offer him blood of your own, and he snaps. Mist shrouds the forest clearing, hiding you and hiding him. Playing hide and seek was always so much fun in weather like this. Muichiro shakes his head rapidly, clutching its sides as the memories hammer against his brain. The next attack slams him down, and his sword flies out of his hand. 

Although his breath shakes, he knows he has to focus or he too will lose his humanity. He rushes to his blade a second before you get to it, slicing in half your extended arm. Instinct tells him to apologize, cry at your pained expression, bandage it up, but he pulls his sword back and thrusts it into your stomach. Your harsh kick to his gut and attempt to pull his sword into yourself force him to fall back. He slides low against the dirt, staring into the eyes glowing back at him through the fog. 

Not being able to see you makes fighting you easier, if only in terms of the mental toll. The mist might be his domain, but you navigate it as effortlessly as your words do his brain. Just to survive, his body blocks out what happened during the rest of the fight. Once it has concluded, Muichiro awakens to the reality of still standing, sword in hand, blood disintegrating from it. His own would not fade away like this, and in that moment he knows: he killed you. 

His breaths come out ragged and heavy. He knows he had to do it. The haze of his amnesia cannot cloud his mind fast enough. A shaky, rough hand rises to cover his quivering mouth. Large teardrops roll down his reddening cheeks. 

His small body trembles, eyes squeezing shut as he remembers. What was it all for? Your patience- if this fight had ended in stalemate, would you have waited for him to change his mind? Your kindness- would you still have laughed with him had he agreed? He hates the thoughts swarming his scrambled mind, and he so, so much wishes he could hate you, too. 

He frowns as he tries to recall what he did last night. How did he come back, when did he, and why does his rumbling stomach refuse to eat? His heart sounds so empty, a field with nothing in the middle. Something is missing, and his throat keeps clogging up. Favoring the motivating rage, he wishes that would return in place of the sadness that chose to linger. 

Shinobu Kocho

Death's silence has always played on her doorstep. Hatred boils within her, fluttering with sharp edges and bleeding cuts. The smile on her painted lips remains ever-present, but it grows tighter, even more maintained. Her words are jagged scalpels, have been for so long. She sharpens them as you stand before her, taking on the form of a creature you claimed you hated as much as she does. 

Her jaw clenches as you dare to offer her the same fate. The physique she was born with would not matter were she to turn into a monster. It would be an equalizer to destiny's cards. To demons, the conditions of their original human bodies never mattered; only through effort was power gained. However, you conveniently leave out that the effort was cruelty on others, preying on the weak like a parasite. 

Preying on the vulnerable like Shinobu's parents, her only sister, her apprentices, all of their families- a monster like that, is that what you wanted to be? All this time, did you only pretend to share her hatred? Memories flash between her violet eyes. Your carefree laughs, feeble attempts to stifle your fear when telling ghost stories together, even cooking with the Love Hashira- all of her love crashes over her. Do you feel that way too? 

Was your transformation forced or did you beg for your life to continue? A practiced mask settles over her features, eerie to any outsider. She supposes that does not matter. That venom infected you either way, spread through your veins and erased all there was left of you. The Demon King is nothing but a crude parasite. 

The most she can do for you anymore is set you free of him. She readies her sword and strikes. Her tongue spits almost as much vitriol as her blade, cutting through with her smile and words. You fall back and avoid getting hit. She sweetly tells you it is only delaying the inevitable. 

All she longs for is to give you a painless death. Why would you reject her act of mercy, so? Her saccharine song seeps into your mind bit by little bit, as do the toxins she weaves across the battlefield. True to her word, she leaves you intoxicated with the poison dripping from her wings. They surround you, a monarch's presence closing in until the darkness swallows you whole. 

Shinobu watches with an unchanging expression as you crumble to dust. A lone tear rolls down her cheek, smooth like a drop of morning rain on a flower. Her sister's wish makes less sense than it ever has before. Demon blood corrupts the purest of souls. Whatever else could she do but mourn what became of you? 

For a moment she entertains the thought she could have drained you of the poison. She could have cured you, rings the grandiose and ambitious idea through her head. In the end, it is nothing but a 'what if' of what would have been a hopeless endeavor. You are gone either way. You are gone, and once again, there is nothing she managed to do to help the one she treasured. 

That thin sheet of relief below her feet has shattered again. She wonders how many she has left before she cannot feel joy at all. The thought of a normal life echoes in her head as a bitter, cruel joke. Sister, she asks, how could I ever move on? Knowing these monsters roam the earth only means eternal fear and despair. 

By the time only her lashes are damp with her grief anymore, Shinobu has successfully forced down her emotions. She must remain focused, she needs to push forward. With a deep breath, she sheathes her sword again. Right, at least she has confirmed one more hypothesis about demonkind. They are pure evil through and through- no matter from whom they came from. 

Kyojuro Rengoku

The sun rose and fell far too many times in your absence. You and him were bound to part ways one day, one way or another. Living each day as his last has served him well to prepare him for the pain of loss. As he stands before whatever remains of you, he admits this is not the kind of ending he ever could have prepared for. 

Your new form is a mockery against life itself. He regrets not having grown to know you better. Now there is nothing worth knowing. Still, the past is nothing but an unpleasant setting for the present, prepared in advance for a show that has already begun. It's too late to change the scenery, the roles or actors, so Kyojuro readies his sword. 

He has his role to play, and so do you. This is what you have chosen. No offer of power or eternity should have been worth your humanity. Even if he has to be the one to remind you of the perfection you tossed aside like garbage, that is just what he will do. A flare of light passes by, and no more words are needed. 

The crisp air warms up from the sheer speed of your exchanged blows. Still, it cannot hold a candle to the inferno welling up within his heart. All of the greenery conflagrates, torching the forest in the fire's wake. His blade nearly melts your arm, only a match to kindle the battle as your nails graze his chest. Falling back for just a second is barely an option, fueling your confidence in victory. 

He cannot afford that. So, he fights on, igniting the wind and grass and trees. Dawn comes bringing in your defeat, which Kyojuro senses first. Lighting your pyre, he finally drops beside you. The battle's end hardly cauterizes the wounds left inside or outside him. 

With a deep breath, his spine shifts upward and Kyojuro sheathes his sword. Not even a single muscle shifts as he watches your body fade to dust. All of those moments have turned to memories now. He must accept it all over again: the ephemeral nature of life. His heart sinks in his chest, flame nearly blown away  by the wind as he tries not to dwell on everything he should have done. 

All he can do is ensure the same mistakes are never made again. It is far too late to try forgetting you; he has already burned the visage of your face into memory. Your bright eyes and tired, hopeful smile smile will haunt him forever, lingering behind him like a fire licking beneath his feet as he rushes forward. As much as he tries to focus on the present and what he still has, he knows trying to forget your former ardor would be a hopeless endeavor. How could you, someone who fulfilled your duties with such passion and persistence, turn into something like this? 

He doubts himself for a moment, wondering if he would lose his way, too, if subjected to drops of cursed blood. Furrowing his dark brows, he shakes his head and turns away from the rising sun that blinds him. Surely he would not forget all that he has been, yet the very thought terrifies him. These moments linger in his mind, forcing his usual smile to make way for a serious frown. A part of him has charred to ashes, that much is clear for anyone shocked to cross paths with him. 

Even so, Kyojuro does not regret meeting you. He regrets failing to see the signs of you slipping, falling, charring your white wings to dark ash. He mourns not your death, but of the death of the person you were. Life is not the only thing that flees, he learns. The love in the hearts of people, with time, that too, can fade away as if it never was. 

Tengen Uzui

As much as he tried to keep his head held high and his resolve firm, the burdensome weight over his chest pulled him down with just as much intent. Tengen believed he deserved the most heartfelt of apologies from you merely for distracting him from his duties with your foolish disappearance. You laugh as if his insult to your new form were just another teasing jab among the many you used to share. Truly, you should fall to your knees and beg for forgiveness; only then could your existence be even somewhat excused. 

Your teeth, perfect when you were human, now razor-sharp and ugly, glisten in the moonlight. The spreading grin is no longer playful; it grows to an inhuman width, cruel and ironic. At the start of your relationship he disliked you, and now from love he has circled back to hate. Although he would not admit it, you used to be mind-blowing and outstanding, never struggling to choose in difficult situations. Perhaps that hastiness has led you astray now, but that hardly matters. 

Chains clink together as the bandages unravel from his swords. Hard work and dedication were all it took for you to rise to your rightful rank of Hashira, he remembers. In comparison to you and many of his other peers, Tengen felt like an utter bumbling fool at times. As infrequently as he would say it, your honesty and confidence were more than flamboyant enough to gain his respect. Turns out, he really was far too eager to give that away. 

He grins bitterly, urging you to make the first move. Unlike some, he has the decency and grace to hand over that choice. You refuse and make an offer of your own, telling him to follow you. He scoffs and would have laughed if the notion were not so insulting. Who do you think he is anyway? 

The clashes of his blade against yours boom across the valley. Rubble and debris nearly hit him as he dodges more attacks. You still call out the flaws in his forms with a teasing jingle in your tone. His words cut sharp but you still chuckle as if he were joking. He scowls at that, nose scrunching up; either you do not care about the gravity of what you have done or do not even realize it. 

Once he finally gets in the final cut, the swing of his swords reverberates in the ravine. The sound rings in his ears long after the explosion has subsided. Your expression remains carefree and infuriatingly confident as always. If he did not know better, he would assume you had wanted him to end your miserable existence. However, he does know better. 

Your voice echoes with apathy, mulling over your loss. Of course he won, he says, he won before the battle even begun. The second you bid farewell to your humanity, he won. You refuse to listen. You never really did. As your body crunches and falls apart, Tengen wonders if he has been too harsh on himself. 

Despite all his flaws, he would never let himself turn into a demon. He is a failure, a weakling. With all the lives he has let slip through his fingers, there is nothing else he could be. Still, there are things he never would do, lows he would never stoop to. His past is far from a pretty one, so dull it makes him want to cry. 

However, he left that behind. Tengen moved away from the bloodshed and worked hard to create safety with what he knew. You rushed headfirst into an opportunity to become a mindless beast. Even so, his heart rises to beat faster in his ears. 

Mourning a demon, how disgraceful. He frowns, turning away with a huff. What is there to even miss? So he asks himself, but he knows all too well just what he will long for. The effortless banter, calling out one another's flaws, laughing together, and fighting side by side- that is what he will miss. 

Kanae Kocho

Her grief was silent: dewdrop tears, whispered prayers, and averted gazes. As expertly as Kanae hides her wrath, the thorn-covered vines of rage wrapped around her heart all the same. The moment you were declared Missing In Action, Kanae swore to personally slay the demon that took you from her. She poured all of her energy into finding you, only to have her hopes and dreams shattered, stomped on like a wilted flower. No matter who turned you, in the end, you were the demon who took you from her. 

Your jokes, banter, and silly smiles bloomed in the depths of her mind. They wither like azaleas before winter, swept by snow when she looks at you now. Inhuman, slit-eyes stare down her camellia ones. Her hand rests over her swords handle, cautious though not ready to wield it just yet. She wants to hold out hope in her dream of coexisting peacefully with demons, if not for your sake but her own and others', but the heartless, expressionless look on your warped features makes it hard to believe. 

The girls at the Butterfly Mansion missed you, too. She wanted to bring you back home. Her brows furrow as she asks a question she already knows the answer to. You have eaten, eaten far too many. Not just that, you have the audacity to offer her to eat, too. 

Her frown morphs into a scowl as she unsheathes her blade. Damping off the lives of others like a fungus, is that really what you have chosen to do with your life?! Another question yelled out that she knows the answer to: your unflinching form giving her an unneeded explanation. With that, she decides to cut off your head. She will win against any demon, no matter the cost, and you are no exception. 

Weeding out the evil of this world is what she was made to do. If you decided to become a part of that evil, then so be it. Kanae's shears will  always be ready until the day that she dies. Her shoes twist into the moss as she readies an attack. You do the same, of course; parasites love clinging to life, after all. 

Beneath the canopies, you clash together. Trees shake and leaves fall down from the force of each hit. Every movement is a dice roll but eventually, it is your head that gets sliced off. The nectar of life and death, blood, coats her sword and fingertips. She blinks, then turns to her former opponent. 

Your corpse decays right in front of her eyes. What she thought to have been evergreen was just another season waiting to pass by. You never were grafted together, despite growing together. Thorns wrap around her heart as if they never intend on letting go. The roots of what she thought she knew have been ripped out. 

What is she to do? Seeds of doubt sew into her mind. Kanae wonders if was wrong all along. Her peers did always call her dream childish. At least the few she mentioned it to did. 

So, maybe she is naive. Not all plants seem deciduous though they are. Many things in life are deceptive, but is she so wrong for wanting to believe? There are still fronds that have yet to sprout, new things to discover. One cannot hope to grow greatness overnight; it will only blossom when it feels the time is right. 

Kanae sheathes her sword, taking in a deep breath before looking up at the sky. She is only human, after all, her greatest strength and weakness. Were she anything divine, she could speed up the process and cultivate anything she desired to. However, that is only wishful thinking, daydreaming. All she knows is that if she could, she would grow a herb to remedy a broken heart. 

[guillotinesandroses]

King of the Wasteland; Izuru Kamukura + Gender Neutral Reader

"You know... you could still change this," your voice comes out in what is almost a breathy sob. The man's expression does not even falter as your cold palm presses against his cheek. Tears will not come out yet, your eyes are far too dry. Your resolve holds firm as you bring your other weak hand to cradle his face. 

He does not push you away. At times you wonder if he even can blink. Vermillion eyes bore into your reddened sclera. The toxic air has really done a number on your heavy lungs and fragile voice. "Would you even consider it... no matter what I'd promise?" 

"I have no reason to. The hope it would offer is mundane, predictable." Stone-cold as always, he rejects you for the very last time. 

"Hajime," you whisper, "please," more to yourself than him. Izuru's brows raise, the only indication he heard you. Hands trembling over his skin, you finally let go and give in to your aching knees. It does not matter that you fell to the floor. Everything has ended, the world has ended, and so will your life soon as well. 

Whether you call out the name of the one you loved or the monster they carved out of him, the end results are all the same. For weeks- or more likely months, since the days keep blurring together- you have tried everything to change his mind. Izuru turns away, muttering the same complaints of boredom he usually does, stepping up to the windowsill. 

A bitter, defeated and strained grin spreads to your torn and chapped lips. The gun's barrel shifts in your hold, clicking as you lift it to your own head. "Well... I guess that's it, then." 

The noise draws his attention at last. He glances at you from beneath his lashes, unresponsive and uncaring, the opposite of your former darling. This is what the world saw as worthy. Your face morphs into a scowl, eyes narrowed as you voice your thoughts, pointless to him. "In the pursuit of perfection, they killed everything worth living for."

"I hope they'll burn near me, so I can kill them, too." Your eyes drift closed, partially satisfied. The cold edge of the weapon brings a sense of relief, but you wait on pulling the trigger. 

"Are there not people still alive whom you despise? Counting on a false afterlife for vengeance is rather pathetic. That fantasy may bring you comfort, but what is it worth in the end?" His face may remain solid and his voice monotone, but you have stayed beside him long enough to know better than to assume apathy. For most, he does not even wait for an answer. 

"Even if it's a fake fantasy, Izuru... I don't want to suffer." Your smile grows nothing short of deranged, drinking in the drop of emotion he finally spilled: curiosity. In your own hands, your life feels more like a weapon than the gun they are holding. "You were my last shred of hope, someone with the power to change things. Now that I know I can't even change your mind... what am I here for anymore?" 

"There is still a lot for you to do, isn't there?" 

"There is nothing, genius," you almost coo at the raven-haired man. "Have you looked outside? It's a hellscape out there." 

"I suppose it makes sense for a person to attempt to kill oneself in these circumstances. The human mind is wired to avoid pain at all costs, after all. However, that's not it. That's not what's happening here." He stalks across the room, watching you frown as he does so. 

"The fact is that you have yet to break. That's the peculiar part about this." He appears before you in an instant, and your eyes fly wide open. The change in position nearly made you drop your gun, but he pries it out of your hand anyway. "You were aiming to coerce a reaction out of me- anything at all would be a victory at this point, however small." 

"Despair is the great unknown, or so I've been told." His firm hand brushes the side of your face, earning a flinch. "Your actions... they seem motivated by despair, yet..." 

"You are so... alive. Despair only births hope within you. You might want to give in, yes... but you know it's better to hang on and die later than to give up, since the end result is the same anyway. It's an irregularity among regularities of your kind, who brought this world to a deadlock." The grip grows tighter, narrowed eyes reflecting a new emotion at last: disgust. 

"How can such hope be created in someone so worthless, so unskilled and rash..?" Suddenly, an unsettling grin spreads onto his lips, not quite meeting his eyes. You swallow at the utterly new expression. "Parasite- that's all you are and yet you're here, still alive. What gives you hope, what keeps you going..?" 

Izuru's smile drops to his usual expression, only slightly less dull than usual. His thumb swipes over your cheekbone slowly in thought. "How come you're so fixated on me anyway..? Perhaps it has something to do with my origins. If that's the case, I'm sorry to inform you I remember nothing of it; those memories are worthless, that's why they were removed." 

At that you snap back to life, scowling. His mouth parts in surprise as you grab his stupid red tie and pull his face down to your level. "Those memories are far from worthless. You used to be so much more than the useless mess you are now. I'm going to drag, Hajime, that fool of a man out of you if that's the last thing I do." 

Izuru, who had frozen at your sudden movement, chuckles. Your turn to freeze comes, having drawn more emotion out of him in the past five minutes than in the entire time you have spent with him. You choke on a yelp when he pulls you into his chest. The smile on his face fades as swiftly as it arrived. Cold as ever, his voice holds a strange, small edge of hopefulness as he speaks. 

"Hm... despite what the world may have previously made of you, I believe you should have been chosen. So, that's what I will do now, I'll select you instead. You can entertain me for a little while longer. I am your superior, after all... and I have a feeling I won't grow bored of you just yet." 

[guillotinesandroses]

Countess of Death's Flowers; Alcina Dimitrescu + Implied Female Reader

Even as the crows yell outside, a murder always circling above the castle, you remain calm. Pouring wine, a gentle red river, you hum an old jazz song heard long ago. The cork pops back onto the crystalline bottle with ease. Careful footsteps echo the walls as you pass by. In spite of your soft humming, the other servants scramble out of your way as if you were barking orders like a military sergeant. 

How sad, you think. There is no malice in your actions, no hatred you hold for them. People in similar positions should band together and support one another. That only makes sense, or at least it does to you. Lady Dimitrescu's fondness for your presence always has been out of your control anyway. 

As you move to lower a platinum goblet onto the table before her, Lady Dimitrescu's gloved fingertips brush against your own. Your mouth parts, though only ever so slightly. An enigmatic smile dances on her blood-red lips. The countess allows her hand to linger just a tad too long before she removes the goblet from your palm. "Thank you, my dear." 

You nod with a deep bow, rising and turning to carry the tray back to its correct place. Lady Dimitrescu's voice halts you in your place. "Actually, I'd like to drink with you today, îngeraș. Come, sit with me." 

Blinking, you wonder if you should have acted just a little more like all the other servants. The attention of a woman like her, flattering as it may be, tends to be rather dangerous. Although your heart appears to have jumped to your throat, you respond with grace. "That would hardly be appropriate, My Lady." 

"A servant expecting to sit beside me would be the most insolent, yes. I am second only to Mother Miranda, after all." She sets her goblet down, lacing her fingers below her chin. "However, that is not the case here. I am inviting you to sit with me, so please, accept the honor, my dear. I will not ask again." 

Only having the time for a brief pause to take in the situation, you give a slow nod. "Very well, My Lady. I hope you'll find my company sufficient." 

"I'm quite sure I will." Lady Dimitrescu does not as much as offer you a sip of the wine, let alone tell you to get a glass of your own. With idle hands held still on purpose, you wait for your lady to reveal her intentions. 

"Word is that you have been humming as you work," she states. Neither her voice nor expression gives away what she thinks of that. 

"I apologize if it has been a disturbance." 

"No, it has not. I was simply wondering where that melody was from?" She takes a sip from her goblet, clearly expecting you to answer. 

"It's... from a band called 'The Pallboys'. I find the lead singer's, Miss D's, voice beautiful." Your voice nearly falters as you hesitate to be honest. 

"How... unique... how interesting." A strange glint of satisfaction reflects from her borderline unnatural eyes. "Would you describe my voice pleasing on the ears as well?" 

"It is beautiful, My Lady." 

"Why, thank you. Hopefully, you're not just saying that to flatter me." 

"I wouldn't dream of that, My Lady." 

"I suppose I'll have to take your word for it, then." She chuckles, far too amused with herself, pipe swaying in hand. "I used to be a singer as well, back in the day when there was nothing else I could do. It is a marvelous thing, isn't it- fate, I mean. Even after all this time, I returned to the throne, which always did rightfully belong to me." 

"These lands are delighted to have one of their original rulers back, My Lady." 

"Oh, they should be... but many seem intent on painting me in a bad light. They accuse me of murder and cannibalism, among other things. All the claims of me being a vampire... ridiculous, are they not?" 

"Yes, quite." Your eyes trace the wooden table before you. Lying through your teeth has never been easier, though for your own sake, you hope she is being genuine as she claims innocence. 

"I'm glad we agree. I am simply a woman with a gentle complexion. All of us must cower in the face of the Sun's rays. Such claims only speaks of ignorance on their part." 

"Right... porphyria cutanea tarda," you mumble beneath your breath. 

"Excuse me?" 

"Ah- forgive me, My Lady. I was simply lost in thought, that's all. It was nothing important." 

"No, I believe that was a scientific term you mentioned. What was it again? You said it so quietly."

"Porphyria cutanea tarda. It's a condition... that makes a person's skin particularly sensitive to sunlight." 

"How intriguing... I believe I've heard of it in passing. Do tell me more about it. What do you know?" 

"Well... it's caused by low levels of uroporphyrinogen decarboxylase. That's... an enzyme that breaks down porphyrins in the liver. When porphyrins build up too much, it causes blistering skin and issues with the nerveous system." 

"Hm... it seems you are at least somewhat well-educated, after all." Lady Dimitrescu's mysterious smile remains on her lips, intense eyes studying your features. You sit still, fighting back the urge to clear your throat and request permission to leave. The countess leans a little closer, asking, "what exactly could someone like you have been doing before taking residence in my castle?" 

"I was a doctor," you admit. 

"What a dignified occupation. Why leave it?" 

"Operating in the village isn't safe anymore, My Lady. Monsters keep attacking, and people disappear. I'd rather not be ripped apart." 

"So, you saw my castle as a way to run from those beasts? Do the rumors surrounding it not scare you?" 

"An intelligent creature can show mercy, even if that is only through a quick death. The wolves do not care if they tear me to pieces while I'm still alive." 

"Correct... but don't the villagers need you right now the most, my dear? I'm sure many are bleeding out from those wounds right as we speak." 

"Maybe so, but I'm neither a martyr nor a miracle maker. There's only so much death a person can witness while staying hopeful. I'll help where I can, but I won't seek out new patients." 

"I suppose it's understandable." She smiles. "Well, since this is where you ended up, perhaps you could take a look at my daughters, doctor. The people here are so insolent; my girls haven't been spared from those crude rumors, either. Something makes them sensitive to cold temperatures, so my poor darlings have been stuck indoors their whole lives." 

"I cannot say that is my specialty, but I can take a look at that if you wish so, My Lady." 

"Ah, how sweet of you," she coos, then offers you her goblet over the table. "Here, have some of my wine. You must be parched from all of the hard work you do. Don't be shy now; I should reward my best servants every now and again, it only makes sense." 

"Thank you." Knowing she would not take no for an answer, you tentatively accept her gift. With a hesitant sip, tangy liquid seeps onto your tongue. The wine tastes sweet yet oaky, having an intense salty and filling aftertaste. In spite of its strangeness, you are not wholly lying when you say, "it's good." 

"I should hope so." She chuckles, pulling her elegant hand away. "It is from my very own vineyard, after all." 

"I am honored you would share this with me." 

"Well, of course. I've never had such a competent, multi-talented servant." She rises to her full height, feather-decorated hat scraping the ceiling. Only a fool would not be intimidated by such a sight. You swallow as she stalks over to your chair, the short trip taking way too long in your mind. 

Her footsteps echo through the tall room, the silence so loud when she stops before you. "Dragostea mea... there is something you must know, something I must tell you before we proceed. The accusations of my cruelty, vampirism, and slaughter..." 

"Those were not simple allegations; they are simply the truth." Two slender fingers tilt your chin upwards, to her towering form. "You see, I cannot live without... sustenance. Fresh human blood- my health is so poor- you understand, right?" 

The innocence in her voice, her expressions, it bleeds with a saccharine glow. Your heartbeat thumps in your ears. Every muscle in your body urges you to run. However, you would stand no chance against her. So you stay, even as her claws extend to press against the sides of your neck. 

"I've taken a liking to you, my dear pet. Don't worry if it is death you fear. I can save you from it... with Mother Miranda's gift, that is." Her other hand rises to your throat as well, squeezing tight as a cold breath hits your nose. "You can become so much more than you are." 

"My Lady-" she cuts you off with a suffocating kiss. You gasp for air as soon as she parts, licking her lips. 

"Call me Alcina, dear. Don't worry about getting used to the name- my daughters and I have plenty of time to help you to adjust." With the final ring of her voice, your consciousness fades. When you next awake, who knows what you will be. If only you had been as scared as the others. 

[guillotinesandroses]

Resident Evil Masterlist

Resident Evil: Biohazard

Withering Together

Zoe Baker + Female Reader, angst and bittersweet fluff

Resident Evil: Village

Mother of the Pitch Black

Mother Miranda + Gender Neutral Reader, angst, suggestive

Countess of Death's Flowers

Alcina Dimitrescu + Implied Female Reader, choking