#chainsaw man you continue to move me

[thehayakawas]

“I’ll find family again somewhere!” is so earnestly hopeful it’s genuinely creating cracks in my heart

[sukunasweetheart]

kimi ni todoke inspired, but with a twist?? except sukuna is suuuuper into your whole scary/creepy vibes (strange fetish) this is more just rambling, not a proper fic sorry, its a little smutty, scratching and knifeplay involved (he's quite submissive), sukuna's a whole FRREAK

sukuna in college au, where he has a strange infatuation with the horror genre-- has a deep appreciation for scary films, and is a huge nerd in this area, and many of his favourite celebrities are actors and actresses that starred in one of his favourite films. his brother yuuji is also a huge cinema nerd but he's not as obsessed with horror as sukuna is. and frankly, yuuji thinks he's a slight weirdo for being able to analyse them in a very detailed manner, whether it's the jumpscares or how realistic a gore scene looks.

and now this horror nerd discovers someone very noteworthy in his area. there's this semi-famous haunted house that operates year-round nearby his university, which he decides to visit alone, out of boredom.

...the atmosphere is alright. the decoration could use some work. the bloody sheets don't look convincing enough. it's too pink and tacky. the "ghosts" give an effort to try and scare him, but he gives them a deadpan look.

"can you try any harder?" sukuna keeps walking.

next, a man dressed like a typical serial killer walks in holding a real chainsaw. oh, boy. the "killer" walks up real close to him, to his annoyance. he takes the chance to inspect the mask on his face. he flicks it lightly with a finger.

"shit's made out of plastic. do better."

the man revs up his chainsaw.

"ha - that's the spirit." he continues walking.

there's suddenly eerie silence, now that he's almost at the exit of the haunted house. what, did they run out of ideas?

he thinks he catches a glimpse of someone in the corner of his eye. sukuna stops and turns back, but there's no one in sight. that gets the hairs on the back of his neck rising, ever so slightly. he likes that.

he feigns ignorance and keeps heading to the exit, wanting something to jump out at him. he hears little footsteps behind him, this time. he whips around again, but there's nobody.

"you're edging me, are you?" he says sarcastically with a chuckle.

you're hiding in a little pocket area out of view, when you hear the man mention something about edging. great. another fucking weirdo. sometimes, you feel like you should just get a new job.

the third time, you actually reveal yourself and stand still in view when he turns around. the weirdo just stands there and grins at you. the fuck??

oh, sukuna loves this one. you look terrifying. like you came directly from a horror film set. you give him the creeps.

"look at you... a diamond in the rough."

the fuck is this man talking about? you want to tell him to just leave already. but he just continues observing you silently, like someone analysing an artifact. you move stiffly towards him, even while knowing that it probably wouldn't be enough to scare him off.

"your makeup looks too real... do you do that yourself?"

you glare at him. it's part of the script anyway. sukuna chuckles, because something tells him that the disdain in your eyes are real.

"i know, i know. i'll get going. any chance i could get your number before i go?" he asks boldly, hands in his pockets. it's a half-hearted attempt, but he felt the need to really try at least once.

he must be joking. what kind of perverted man sees a woman looking like this and asks for her number? well, he probably isn't being serious anyway. silence permeates the area as you backtrack away from him, deciding you've done enough for your pay's worth.

"running away? a shame..."

you feel odd. many men have seen you and ended up running out screaming. none has ever tried flirting with you while you were in this getup. what a weirdo.

sukuna walks out feeling better than expected. that last section really saved it. not a totally worthless experience. maybe he'll swing by again, just to see you.

except, he doesn't really need to. because the next day you bump into him at uni - and he recognises you instantly, like the freak he is. you try to brush him off casually, but he can't be shaken off so easily. and then sukuna pestering you wherever you hid around on campus became part of your schedule.

"what's your deal? why do you keep following me around?" you eye him suspiciously, when he sits down next to you on the bench, unprompted.

"well, i'm interested in you, for one," he says casually, shrugging.

"listen... if this is because you have some weird horror fetish, then i'm not interested..." you tell him truthfully, shuffling yourself away.

sukuna laughs out loudly in response, which makes you jump.

"i won't deny having unusual tastes, but my interest isn't that shallow. if it were the case, i could probably seduce any other girl and dress her up instead of chasing after you."

well, you guess he's correct about that. you've received a couple of stink eyes from a number of girls after being seen with sukuna so often.

he's an annoying guy - when you ask other peers about him, they tell you he's stoic, mean, and rude as fuck. well, you understand the last two a little bit, but stoic? every time he sees you, he seems like the opposite. he's rather loud and overbearing.

"i'm telling you - you have a talent. why not make use of it?"

he's referring to your future acting career, apparently.

"and i'm telling you - stop with the nonsense! i can't be fooling around with a silly idea like becoming an actor. seriously."

you only started working at the haunted house for some cash. you're not even that into the genre itself. what's with this guy?

"why would it be fooling around? at least give it a try before dismissing it."

this back and forth continues, for quite a while. he even forces you to watch his favourite horror films, "for future reference".

and then he proposes a deal to you. that you try and audition for a small role as a ghost in a film. he guarantees you'll get picked, even though you doubt it. and if you don't he promises he'll never bring the idea up to you again. you decide to go with it, just to shut him up.

but guess what? you're selected for the role.

sukuna shrugs at you with a smug smile on his face.

"see? i'm always right."

he pisses you off.

and he somehow pushes his way into becoming your personal "trainer". sukuna revises your script with you, and gives you feedback on your acting. he sits you down and watches classic horror flicks with you, analysing every scene down to every frame. many things happen the more you spend time with him..... you find yourself getting more and more attracted to this weirdo. this horror nerd.

"are you paying attention? this part is important."

the film gets paused, and you very swiftly, dart your eyes away from admiring his jawline.

"i'm trying... i just can't concentrate. i'm hungry," you lie fervently.

"hungry for what? me?" sukuna grabs your face and makes you turn your head towards him.

"...no? whatever gave you that idea?" you ask, heart hammering in your chest.

"how is it that an aspiring actor can't even lie properly? maybe we need to go back and revise some of your acting lessons."

you know that he's studying to become a film director, and honestly you feel sorry for the future actors that'll be working with him.

"whatever. let go of my face, you ass." you swat his hand away.

sukuna chuckles deeply at you, eyes softening.

"you're lucky that you're cute. how about i give you a kiss? will you concentrate better then?"

"yeah... wait, what-?"

too late though, he's already on your lips. and damn, he's a good kisser. anyways, that embarks the start of your relationship with him. shortly after, the filming process for the short film begins, and it becomes a decent success. you're a little ecstatic. maybe more than a little. you get the feeling that a whole new life is awaiting you.

and your boyfriend is so endlessly cocky about it. "all thanks to me," he says, which is technically correct, but you don't want to openly admit it in front of him sometimes.

and...

occasionally...you do dress up scarily before sex as well. at first, you were quite reluctant and awkward with roleplaying in bed, but after you got used to it, you found that it's hot as hell to see sukuna beneath you, squirming as you press a knife close to his throat, grinding your clothed cunt against his boner, dressed as a terrifying ghoul.

a safe word was established beforehand, of course, just in case either of you suddenly feel like backing out.

you want to keep yourself immersed into the role as much as possible, but it's difficult when sukuna's cock is so big, hitting all the right spots. this time, you're choking him with one hand as you ride him like he's a toy.

sukuna's hands are guiding your hips, fingertips digging into your flesh, his dick aching from the soft pressure you apply to his throat. you look so utterly scary, it turns him on. he'd let you kill him, if you wanted. he fucks into your cervix, looking up into your eyes with a blush on his face, groaning openly at the insane look in your eyes.

choke me harder. scratch me. bite me. he provokes you through his gaze.

you do grip his throat harder. and then you dig your fingernails into his chest, and scrape them down slowly, leaving a trail of red marks down him. sukuna shudders under you and curses under his breath.

"just like that... fuck, baby," he moans, cock throbbing inside of you. your walls squeeze him so good.

he cums the hardest he's ever cum in his life that night - thighs trembling and sweat rolling down his temples, and it doesn't help that you lean down to sink your teeth into the side of his neck while he orgasms.

aftercare consists of him cleaning you up and helping you de-costume. when he's wiping all that dark makeup off your face, he tells you that you're pretty with his soft voice, flustering you.

and of course, vanilla sex also occurs regularly, to get away from that freaky stuff sometimes, with the gentle kisses and tender hand holding, in a missionary position, exchanging sweet, sweet gazes with each other. giving you the princess treatment you deserve for being so good to him.

in the future, you run around and play bigger roles until one of your films become a huge hit, and sukuna finishes his degree to become a famous film director... no surprises there! the best horror actress + the best horror film director goes hard... the two of you are already married at this point.

when the both of you finally get together to make the ultimate film, the internet explodes... sukuna is surprisingly bad at being professional. he's seen often taking care of you rather affectionately around the filming area, personally making sure your makeup is done perfectly, and bringing you food and water as if he's bragging to everyone else about his marriage. and it shows in the way he sugar coats his critique for you, when he has never done that for any other actor/actress he's worked with previously.

if there are some snooty coworkers that try to speak with him about the gap in treatment, he would simply scoff at them and say 'and? she's my damn wife.'

when he's working with you, it's all like:

"cut! honey, that was great, but i think this part can be done a bit better."

but when it comes to other actors:

"cut! what the fuck was that? sounded like you were reading off the damn script. get your shit together."

he's notorious for being relentless, but nobody has anything to say because all of his films climbed to the top of the industry. everyone is dying to score a line or two in his films.

and i'd like to think that sukuna himself dabbles into acting a little as well. there's probably one film where he stars as the killer, and it becomes a classic :) but the one featuring you and him probably becomes both of your biggest hits ✨

oh, and on days where you two finish filming together, he takes you home with his own car, but before that, some freaky car sex probably occurs around some corner with his windows tinted... (he's been hot and bothered the whole time filming, watching you act)

the end <3

Masterlist

[notiddygothgf]

SEX IS FREE (her)

★ pairings: nanami kento x f! reader

★ synopsis: In the search for solace, Nanami stumbles right into the arms of an exotic dancer. In the search for money, an exotic dancer finds more than she bargained for. In the heat of the moment, a contractual relationship turns into something more. (or; the one where sugar daddy!nanami is sweet on his girl)

★ c.w.: nanami being sexy asf, suggestive content, mentions of sex (more content warnings and tags)

★ a/n: HIIIIII omg so i can explain the hiatus lol.... it was totally unintentional. i wound up getting super depressed over school and then fell into a chainsaw man hyperfixation (read shameless, its an aki ff i wrote youll love it). I FINALLY PICKED THIS STORY UP AGAIN because for some reason it's been getting a lot of attention recently??? lol anyway! your comments inspired me to continue writing it (though i cant promise that i'll update quickly, i AM a full time student so #bepatientwithme).

I was salivating over Nanami in this chapter if you couldnt tell lol.... but enjoy!!! keep those comments coming! who knows, maybe i have another chapter stored away and will update a little earlier....... x

★ w.c.; 5.6k

my kinda love; chapter index

‘AND I’M BAD LIKE THE BARBIE. I’m a doll, but I still wanna party,’

“Donnie, baby, you in there?”

“Yeah!” You called back, loud enough for your coworker to hear through the door. You pressed the tube of red lipstick against your bottom lip, peering into the mirror, filling in the outline you had done in black. When you didn’t receive an immediate answer, you continued humming along to the song playing quietly from your phone. “Pink vette like I’m ready to bend. ‘Imma ten so I’m pullin a ken, likeee.”

Your coworker entered the dressing room – you were the only one there. Most of the other girls from the afternoon shift had gone home already. 

“Some dude wants to rent you,” She told you. 

“No. I don’t do private rooms,” You replied without even looking back. You knew who she was. You weren’t the biggest fan. “I’m good, Mandy.”

“He asked specifically for you,” She added. “Offered a lotta money, too. Helluva lot more than we normally charge.”

You froze up at that. Initially, your first thought was to send her off a second time. Then, you thought of her running off with your money. 

“Is he one of them greasy, sleazy old guys?” You asked. It was wild, how quickly you perked up when you heard that. “Last guy was throwin’ himself onto me. I should’ve filed a police report.”

“Oh, stop your ‘bitchin,” The girl sighed. “He’s paying 200 just to see your ass.”

If you had a tail, it would have started wagging. 

What? A girl had bills to pay. “So he is a greasy old pervert.”

“No, actually. He’s a fine, young thing. Well, not young, but younger than most of the guys we usually get back here,” She trailed off in thought. You watched her body move in the corner of the mirror. “Sexy as hell. Serious, businessman type. Tall, blond, handsome, a jawline that could cut paper,” here, she bent over, leaning over you and muttering the next words into your ear, “I could always take him off your hands, y’know.”

“As if,” You replied. Spinning the chair back around, you got up. “Better not be expecting nothing extravagant. I’m considering this overtime.”

With a deep breath, standing in front of the cherry red door, your heart began to pound against you chest. It was some strange mixture of nerves and excitement you felt as you raised your hand to knock. 

Here goes nothing. You reached for the doorknob and entered the private room, turning back only to lock it behind you. 

“Special delivery!” you crooned, trying to embody a playful tone to mask the jittery feeling within. When you turned around to face the client, you were caught by surprise. 

Your wide eyes traced over a familiar silhouette – broad shoulders, perfectly-fitted, navy blue two-piece suit that clung to his large arms, and matching slacks that clung to his legs – his widespread, casual position hinted at sophistication. A pretty, sharp, angular face framed by neatly-cropped blond hair. A tasteful timepiece on his wrist caught your eye. 

Narrow eyes obscured by peculiar glasses, chiseled cheekbones and jawline. His blond hair – framing his apricot skin – was done up carefully, perfectly, sweeping over his head like a ray of sunlight. You recognized him by his signature scowl.

He came back for more?

You liked your lips, trying to play it cool (like you hadn’t been waiting for him to come back). “Oh, hey, it’s you again,” you said with a smirk. Strutting over to him, you cooed, “Couldn’t stay away?”

He’s so fucking hot.

Though his response wasn’t verbal, the pink hue that dusted his face was not lost on you. You swayed your hips from side to side. “Can you give me somethin’ to work with? I don’t usually do these rooms, you know.”

The devastatingly handsome man swallowed, fixing his gaze on the door – the one you had locked on the way in. As you worked your way between his legs, teasingly dragging your hands up and down your body, his gaze wandered back to you. Shamelessly, you reveled in the attention – studying his reaction.

You could smell his cologne from here – again – and, shit, it made your head spin all over again. The warm notes lingered beneath the collar of his dress shirt. Amber. Wood. Musk. Something dark?

“So I’ve heard,” The man replied, finally breaking his silence. His voice was a revelation – deep, mellow, and smooth, carrying a certain tone of weariness that seemed to add to his enigmatic charm. Charm? Yes, you supposed he charmed you.

He loosened his tie and undid the top button on his shirt to let some fresh air in. The action drew your attention to his neck, provoking you to take a moment to appreciate the details your coworker had emphasized: Tall, blond, with a jawline that could indeed cut paper.

You were wretched. You had to have been. This is so wrong.

“You seem tense,” You remark, making your second attempt at breaking the ice. “You’re new to the scene, aren’t you?”

The handsome stranger – Nanami, if you remembered correctly – licked his lips, drawing mindless shapes over the deep-toned fabric that covered his knee. “Is it that obvious?” he asks, a faint smile playing on his lips.

The movement did not go unnoticed.

“A little,” You huffed out a quiet laugh. “Do you want a dance? We could just sit and chat, too, if you want. I don’t mind. I know your type tend’ta like talking.”

You couldn’t control the way your eyes flitted down over his toned thighs – mind hazy with unwelcome thoughts. The temptation to crawl into his lap a second time was strong, but you reminded yourself of the situation – he was your roommate’s teacher, for fuck’s sake. Your roommate’s handsome… muscular… expensive-looking teacher… with a deep, sexy voice that you could hardly resist.

You must have been ovulating. That was the only excuse.

“I won’t make you put on a show for me,” Nobara’s professor trailed off, eyes distant, clearly lost in thought. He seemed to snap out of it after a moment, pretty brown eyes peering into yours – they looked so dark up close. “As crazy as it sounds, I only wanted to speak to you.”

Your sultry facade cracked a bit at that, surprised by the sudden turn of the conversation. From your experience, men usually came here with only one thing in mind. He wanted to talk… to you. Oh my god.

You nearly squealed. Clearing your throat and pressing your legs together, you turned to hide your flustered face from the older man. “Alright,” you said. “You have 30 minutes.”  Plopping down on the couch next to him, you threw your legs over his lap. “What’s your name, handsome stranger?”

You already knew his name. Still, to keep up appearances, you played coy with him. You knew that, reasonably, there was no reason you should be continuing to entertain him — financial commpensation aside, though you could always reimburse him. You should have turned back the moment you realized it was him.

Then again… he had come to see you. It wasn’t like he knew you were his student’s roommate, but that was besides the point. That alone was moral justification enough for you.

The stiff man had his eyes trained on the spot where your legs had been thrown haphazardly over his. Then, nervously, he answered, “Nanami. Kento.”

Kento. You liked that name. It rolled off the tongue real easy — a buttery smooth name for a man as composed as him.

“Nice to meet you Nanami… Kento,” You chipped, mimicking his prose. “Donetta DiVine. I’m sure you already knew that, though. Do you wanna start, or should I?”

Nanami Kento knitted his brows. “Start…?”

You rolled your eyes rather playfully, giving his leg a nudge with your heel. You had ditched the stage platforms for a smaller pair of stilettos. “What do you do for a living?” 

He licked his lips. After a brief pause, he answered, “I can’t really say, but I teach on the side.”

“Ooh— mysterious…” You grinned. Leaning into the couch, you braced your chin on your hand, staring into his eyes. It didn’t take much effort to play the role of the ‘interested’ siren like it normally did. Not with him. “You already know what I do,” You added, “You look tired.”

His brown eyes widened with surprise.

Shit, I overstepped.

You took your statement back quickly, “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, it’s not—“ He trailed off. Something in his harsh expression softened. “You’re right. Just the first person to notice.”

If your attraction to the man had been any more obvious, you would’ve been waving a sign around with his name on it.

“Really? You’ve got such tired eyes,” You continued anyway. You figured you would at least try to make the most of this half hour with him. “Wanna talk about it?”

He sighed, “Where would I even begin?”

“Your week?” You answered, making a rolling gesture with your spare hand. “How… how was it?”

He looked equal parts confused and intrigued by you, quirking a perfecftly arched brow before clearing his throat. “My week was alright. I started work again after taking a leave of absence for a few months.”

“No kidding…” You trailed off. It didn’t take much to make your interested tone seem real, as you felt nothing but the most genuine sense of interest while listening to him drone on in that deep, raspy voice of his. You could have listened to it for hours. “What happened?”

Something flashed in his eyes. It was quick, fleeting – you almost missed it. “Workplace injury,” He sighed. “If it’s alright, I’d rather not go into detail about it.”

This guy’s like a brick wall.

“Did you heal up okay?” You asked, eyes wide and prying.

He didn’t seem to mind you much. That was a good sign.

“Had to undergo some minor surgery but, yes, I’m fine. Thank you for asking,” He smiled, actually smiled, and it made your chest stir with something unfamiliar. He was devastatingly handsome – the kind of handsome you kept in a little locket in your pocket when you went to war, or something like that. “My bosses have been pressuring me to come back ever since I left. One superior of mine in particular… has been a nuisance. I was under the impression that sick leave was supposed to be a period of peace… but I guess I thought wrong.”

You laughed at his attempt at humor. It came easily to you. Too easily. “I know how you feel. I busted my ass a few months ago. Twisted my ankle real bad,” You raised your leg off of his lap, twirling your stiletto heel around in the air, cutting through it like a knife. “These things are deadly. Boss gave me a solid two days before he started blowing up my phone asking when I was going to be back. It’s like… can you let me live?”

He laughed, then – really laughed, the kind that made his chest rumble, head thrown back against the cushiony couch. And as he released the melodious sound that made your head spin, his eyes creased at the corners. The experience gap between the two you couldn’t have been more apparent. He was a grown man, hardened by years of trials and tribulations – a mysterious one, at that. And there you were, a naive little dancer with your legs strewn over his lap like he was a partner and not a client. He seemed so wise beyond his years, something only accentuated by the tiredness in his eyes. You longed to hear him drone on about his life a little longer, 30 minutes be damned.

“My superior and I actually went to highschool together. He’s been up my ass as long as I can remember,” He hummed, licking his lips, and you followed the path of his tongue as it wet the skin like a hungry feline.

“Which superior?” You asked, mindlessly picking at the fabric of the velour couch beneath you. “The one you were here with last time? With the white hair?”

When the man knit his brows together, you froze up. Shit. I just gave myself away.

There was a brief, tense pause, during which you tried to focus on the music playing from the speakers, the jazzy tune, the faint remnants of a song playing in the showroom outside and up the hall, the wallpaper – anything but him. 

“Yes, that would be him,” He answered, finally. He seemed to be… intrigued by you. Yes, that’s what it was – his half-lidded amber gaze lingered on your face for a moment too long. “You’re very perceptive.”

You cleared your throat. “So, this job of yours… do you like it?”

“I despise it,” He sighed, like he had been waiting his entire life to confess those words. “But, at least, I figure I’m doing something meaningful with my life. You could say I’m a professor on the side.”

I already know that, You thought. Still, he didn’t have to know you knew.

“It’s a demanding job, but I enjoy feeling like I’ve made a difference,” He continued on. “Unfortunately, after the incident, I had to take some time away from the kids to recover.”

“You seem to enjoy teaching,” You answered back, perching your chin on your hand against the back of the couch. 

“Sometimes,” He replied. “Other times, the work can be unbearable,” He looked up, then, pretty brown eyes on yours in a way that had your heart skipping more than a couple of beats. You could practically feel the way they burned right through your extroverted facade, saw past the layers of glitter and scanty clothes and deep into the abyss in your chest. See who you really were. 

It was him who turned to you, then, asking you, “What about you?”

“Me?” You asked, just to make sure you’d heard him correctly. A client? Caring about your experience at work? That was… dizzyingly rare. 

“Yes, you,” He reiterated with the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. “Do you enjoy working here?”

Do I…? You took a moment to consider your answer. You could lie to him – preserve the perfect, sexual image the women in your company were expected to uphold. That was always an option. But, the moment you peered into those all-knowing, tired eyes of his, you found that you didn’t have it in you to lie to him. No, not when he had been so honest with you.

No one’s ever asked me that before.

Before you could catch yourself, the words were already leaving your lips. “Not really, but it pays the bills.”

His eyes softened at that. He didn’t look the least bit upset by your words. If anything, he looked as if he had grown suddenly tender with a sense of understanding. Women didn’t often join your line of work. Not unless they were desperate for money. He seemed mature enough to realize that – to see right past the fantasy you were supposed to paint for him and peer into your eyes like windows into your soul. One look at him, and you knew he didn’t see you as a dancer.

He saw you as a person. As a woman.

You broke the moment with a hum, “Why don’t you keep telling me about your week?” You asked, changing the subject, shifting the conversation back into comfortable territory.

The rest of the half-hour with Nanami flew by like a fleeting dream. He spoke with a quiet ease, his voice low and steady, yet somehow captivating. He complained about the inefficiencies at work—endless meetings that led nowhere, piles of paperwork that seemed to multiply overnight, and colleagues who turned simple tasks into impossible challenges. Yet, when he talked about his students, something in his tone softened, revealing a warmth that made your chest ache. You found yourself asking questions, small ones at first, but each answer drew him out more. The way he spoke—measured, thoughtful, with just the faintest edge of weariness—made you want to listen forever. For someone who seemed so guarded, he had a surprising amount to say, and you realized how much you liked hearing him talk.

You didn’t even notice how much time had passed until a sharp knock interrupted the quiet cocoon of your conversation.

“Donnie? You okay in there? Your 30 was up ten minutes ago.” 

It was your coworker.

“I’m good!” You called back, swinging your legs off of Nanami’s lap, turning to him with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I completely lost track of time.”

“No, it’s alright. I should have been checking my watch,” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, long fingers combing through the buzzed, blonde strands of his undercut like wind blowing through a field of wheat. Then, after glancing down at his watch, he stood up, cleared his throat, and straightened out his suit jacket. “Thank you for your time.”

You hadn’t moved from your spot on the couch, brows furrowed. “That’s it?”

You had half expected him to extend the time. The conversation was going so well, you had silently found yourself hoping that he would lean over and do something – place his strong hand on your thigh, brush his fingers up your arm, anything. No-touching policy be damned.

You would make an exception for him. Men that fine don’t just grow on trees.

So, trying your best to lure him back in, you kicked one leg over the other, crawling into a sexy pose on the couch. In the most sultry tone you could manage, you breathed, “Is that really all you wanted?”

Please ask me for a lapdance, You found yourself wishing internally. 

He paused, looking back at you like he wasn’t the least bit phased by the sexy pose or the outfit or… well, anything. “Yes, why?”

“Nothing, I don’t know, I just… You spent so much money tonight to be here,” You uttered, suddenly bashful when he was peering down at you like that – he was so much taller than you, a height gap that was only emphasized by your seated position on the couch below him. You imagined you would have to stand on the tips of your toes to be at eye level with his neck, maybe his chin. Mindlessly, you caressed the couch. “I figured you would have at least wanted a lap dance, or something.”

“I’m not going to make you do something that neither of us are interested in doing,” He said, sliding his hands down over his slacks to straighten out the creases that had formed in them where your legs had been resting only a moment earlier. “Sex is free. It’s rare to find someone who’s willing to listen.”

You sat there, stunned into silence, still in that sexy pose on the couch, your body frozen in the aftermath of his words. His calm, unbothered demeanor completely threw you off balance, leaving you scrambling to make sense of what had just happened. Men like him didn’t come in here looking for conversation. They came in here for fantasies, for attention, for touch. But not him. 

“Thank you for everything,” he said softly, bowing his head slightly in a gesture so gentlemanly it made your stomach twist. Then, without another word, he moved to the door, unlocking it with smooth precision. 

You didn’t even have time to gather yourself before he slipped out, leaving you sitting there in your sultry pose, legs crossed, mouth slightly open. The sound of the door closing behind him echoed in the room, final and undeniable.

You blinked, your mind racing, the moment replaying over and over in your head. Did I just get… emotionally blue-balled? 

The thought hit you like a ton of bricks, both incredulous and a little amused at how absurdly fitting it was. You flopped back against the couch, your sultry act forgotten, staring up at the ceiling as the jazzy tune from the speakers drifted lazily through the air.

For the first time, a client had left you feeling something you couldn’t quite put into words. You couldn’t decide if you were more annoyed, intrigued, or just completely thrown off your game.

All you knew was that you wanted more.

DARREN: Hey imu.

DARREN: U busy tn?

YOU: I’m working but I get out early. Y.

DARREN: let me pick u up after work

DARREN: maybe i can help you ease some of that stress.

Darren rolled off of you with a huff and an exhale, proud of himself. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the backside of his elbow, sighing, “That was great. Did you cum?”

“Yeah,” You liked straight through your teeth. Feeling vulnerable, you reached for your shirt and slipped it back on. There was a point in time where the two of you would sleep skin-to-skin after sex. A point in time long ago, of course, but you couldn’t help but reflect. Now, all that was left was a feeling of discomfort where the intimacy used to be. 

He flopped down onto the bed next to you, throwing his arm around your waist. Not moving a muscle, you trained your gaze on the ceiling above, hoping that maybe, if you spent enough time counting the dots in his popcorn ceiling, he would see that you did not, in fact, enjoy the experience. You doubted he would do anything to fix it even if he did know.

52, 53, 54.

You had been counting for the past five minutes – thirty seconds after he had grunted the words, “Let’s do missionary” into your ear before flipping you over. Truthfully, you hadn’t wanted to do missionary. That would mean that he could see you and, more importantly, that you had to look at him. So, to pass time and to avoid his gaze, you looked up at the ceiling, allowing yourself to be carried away by the tides of pleasure that his strokes gave you.

55, 56, 57.

He buried his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling. “You smell like a man’s cologne.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I work at a strip club.”

With a groan, Darren rolled onto his back, finally putting a comfortable distance between you and him. “Don’t remind me. I’ve been telling you that you’re wasting your talents at a place like that.”

Your jaw tightened. There it was, the same old Darren: judgment wrapped in concern, but laced with the unspoken assumption that he knew what was best for you.

You slipped off the bed, grabbing your phone from the nightstand. The cool floor against your bare feet helped ground you.

Unlocking your phone, you typed a message to Nobara, your roommate: 

Can you come get me? I’m at my ex’s.

The response came almost instantly: 

Girl, r u srs?

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard before you replied: 

I’ll explain later, ik, just pls… I wanna gtfo of here.

Sliding the phone into the pocket of your hoodie, you turned back to Darren. He was staring at the ceiling now, one arm slung across his chest, his fingers idly tapping against his bicep. For a moment, you hesitated. The familiarity of this scene—him in his sweatpants, you in one of his old T-shirts—was a cruel reminder of how things used to be. But you weren’t that girl anymore.

“I think I should go,” you said, breaking the silence.

Darren’s head snapped toward you. “No, wait,” he said, sitting up. His hair was tousled, his expression almost pleading. “Please… I really want you to stay.”

You crossed your arms, keeping your distance. “Why?”

“Because…” He raked a hand through his hair, his voice quieter now. “I don’t know. I thought things were going good between us.”

You blinked, then let out a short, humorless laugh. “Things? Darren, I come here, we have sex, and then I leave. That’s it. That’s all this is.”

“Is that all I am to you?” His voice carried a tinge of desperation, his eyes searching yours.

You tilted your head, studying him. “Or maybe,” you said slowly, “you’re asking if there’s any chance of us getting back together.”

“Yeah.” His voice cracked slightly, and he swallowed hard. “Is there?”

You laughed again, colder this time, shaking your head. “No. There isn’t.”

His jaw clenched, and he looked away for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was sharp. “That’s not fair. I’ve done so much for you—”

“Done so much?” Your voice rose, and you stepped closer, anger bubbling to the surface. “You don’t give me shit but dick and attitude, Darren.”

He flinched, but you didn’t stop. “You wanna know what’s not fair? The fact that you went and knocked me up and then forced me to have an abortion. Where the hell were you during that, huh? Seeing as you’ve done so much for me?”

He sat frozen, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out. His eyes darted toward the floor, guilt pooling in their depths.

“And you wanna know what’s really unfair?” Your voice cracked, but you didn’t care. The words spilled out like a flood you couldn’t contain. “The fact that you fucking cheated on me when I needed you the most. That’s what’s not fair, Darren.”

Darren stared at you, his face contorted with frustration. “That’s not fucking fair,” he snapped, his voice rising.  

“Oh, fuck you, Darren,” you shot back, your hands trembling as you pointed at him. “What else do I have to do to show you I’m done? What else do I have to say?”  

“I’m trying!” he yelled, stepping closer. “I’ve been fucking trying! But nothing I do is ever good enough for you, is it? You’re so goddamn impossible!”  

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “You call this trying? You call cheating, lying, and gaslighting me trying?”  

“God, you’re such a fucking idiot,” he spat, his words sharp enough to cut. “You act like you’re perfect, like you’ve never made a mistake in your goddamn life.”  

“I’m not perfect, Darren,” you hissed, stepping forward, your voice shaking with anger. “But at least I own my shit. At least I don’t treat the people I love like they’re disposable!”  

“Oh?” he scoffed, throwing his hands in the air. “You think you’re so much better than me? You’re the one who keeps coming back. So what does that make you, huh?”  

The room was thick with tension, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Then he muttered under his breath, “Pathetic.”  

Your blood boiled. “What did you just say?”  

“You heard me,” he said, his tone dripping with venom.  

“Fuck you, Darren!” you screamed, shoving him hard against the chest.  

His expression darkened. “You don’t get to do that,” he snarled.  

Before you could react, he grabbed your wrist and pushed you away. The force of it sent you stumbling back, and you hit the edge of the dresser, pain shooting up your arm as you fell to the floor.  

“Wait, I…” His face shifted, panic flickering in his eyes. He took a step toward you, his hand outstretched.  

You scrambled to your feet, holding your arm where it throbbed. “You know what? I’m done.” Your voice was quieter now, but no less firm. “I’m done, Darren.”  

“Wait—”  

“No!” you shouted, cutting him off. “Go fuck yourself!”  

“Please,” he said, his voice cracking. “Don’t let us go. We had something special. You know that.”  

You stared at him, disbelief flooding your chest. Then you laughed—a cruel, hollow sound. “If you thought this was anything more than sex, then you’re the fucking idiot.”  

He opened his mouth to argue, but you were already grabbing your stiletto boots from the floor.  

“We can make it work,” he said desperately, following you as you stormed out of his apartment.  

“Make it work?” you echoed, spinning around to face him as you reached his car. “Make it work?” You hefted one of your boots in your hand. “Make this fucking work!”  

Before he could respond, you hurled the boot at his car window. The glass shattered on impact, the sound ringing out like a scream in the still night.  

The car alarm blared, its shrill wailing cutting through the silence. Darren stood frozen, his mouth agape.  

“Shit,” he muttered, rushing toward the car.  

You grabbed your other boot and slung it over your shoulder. “Fix that, asshole!” you yelled as you walked away, the sound of the alarm trailing behind you.  

“Her!” Darren called after you, but you didn’t turn around.  

You kept walking, the cold air biting at your skin, the adrenaline coursing through you keeping you upright. Your arm throbbed where you’d hit it, but you didn’t stop. You didn’t look back.  

You made it about halfway home before the exhaustion hit you like a freight train. Your legs wobbled, and you collapsed onto the curb, cradling your arm as the tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over.  

Your phone buzzed weakly in your pocket. Nobara’s name lit up the screen.  

“Where the hell are you?” she demanded as you answered, her voice sharp but tinged with worry.  

You gave her your location, your words slurred with exhaustion and pain. “I can’t— I just can’t walk anymore.”  

“Stay put,” she said firmly. “I’m coming to get you.”  

By the time her car pulled up, you were slumped against a lamppost, your eyes half-closed. Nobara jumped out, wrapping her jacket around your shoulders as she helped you to your feet.  

“What the hell happened?” she asked, her tone softer now.  

You shook your head, too drained to explain. “I’m hungry. I’ll tell you later.”  

“Let’s stop and get you something to eat,” She didn’t press further, guiding you into the car. As the city lights blurred past, you stared out the window, the events of the night replaying in your mind like a bad dream.  

The car was warm, the quiet hum of the heater and the golden glow of streetlights spilling through the windshield easing the tension in your chest. You cradled your injured arm as Nobara maneuvered through the drive-thru, shooting you occasional glances.  

“You want the usual?” she asked as she pulled up to the intercom.  

“Yeah. Large fries, nuggets, and a Coke,” you murmured, leaning your head back against the seat.  

She placed the order, and soon you were pulling into a parking spot under the dim glow of the lot’s overhead lights. The smell of greasy goodness filled the car as she handed you the bag, cracking open a box of nuggets for herself.  

“So,” she said, dipping a nugget into a cup of barbecue sauce. “You gonna tell me what the hell happened back there, or do I just have to assume you went full-on ‘Carrie’ at prom?”  

You snorted, the first genuine laugh you’d had all night. “Something like that.”  

“Well, shit.” She popped the nugget into her mouth. “Guess I missed a show.”  

You sighed, staring at the fries in your lap. “It’s over. For real this time.”  

“Good,” Nobara said firmly. “That guy was a walking red flag.”  

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Speaking of red flags…” You smirked as an idea popped into your head. “You’ll never believe what happened at work today.”  

Her eyes narrowed as she dunked another nugget. “Oh, this should be good. Spill.”  

You leaned back, a grin playing on your lips. “I got booked for a private room.”  

Nobara froze mid-bite. “I thought you didn’t do those?”  

“I don’t,” you said, shrugging. “But they offered me a shit ton of money. Guess who it was.”  

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “Who?”  

You couldn’t help but draw it out for dramatic effect. “Your teacher.”  

Her jaw dropped, and the nugget in her hand fell back into the box. “No way, Bitch.”  

You nodded, trying to keep a straight face.  

“What did he want? Is he, like, a total pervert or something?”  

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, actually. He just wanted someone to talk to.”  

Nobara blinked, clearly baffled. “Huh.”  

“I know, right?” you said, grabbing a nugget. “Easiest money I’ve ever made.”  

“Damn,” she muttered, chewing thoughtfully. “I never took him as the emotional type.”  

“Don’t go telling your friends, though,” you warned, wagging a finger at her. “He told me some pretty heavy shit.”  

Nobara tensed, her expression flickering with something you didn’t catch as you reached for your Coke. “Like what?”  

You laughed, shaking your head. “Like hell if I’d tell you.”  

“Oh, come on!” she said, pouting dramatically. “I won’t tell anyone!”  

You smirked, leaning back in your seat. “I’m not risking it. Client confidentiality or whatever.”  

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” she groaned, but there was a smile tugging at her lips.  

You both sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the car filled with the sound of crinkling wrappers and occasional laughter.  

“Hey,” Nobara said suddenly, looking at you out of the corner of her eye. “You’re okay, right?”  

You hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I think I will be.”  

She smiled, a small, genuine one. “Good. ‘Cause if you ever go back to that asshole, I’m slashing his tires.”  

You laughed, the sound bubbling up before you could stop it. “Deal.”  

As you both dug into the last of the nuggets, the weight of the night seemed to lift, replaced by the warmth of greasy food and a friend who always had your back.

a/n: and there she is! my first update in like a year lol. lmk what you thought! tell me what you would like to see in the story, who knows, i might be able to incorporate it in! Thank you all for your lovely comments. I loveee reading them.

comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

I obviously do not own jjk or anything related to it. I can't find the artist, but if you know them pls dm for credits!!! please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

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wanna join the taglist? | my kinda love; chapter index

[sugar-grigri]

CSM 172 : Do you hear Chainsaw Man? Because I do !

The more 'silent' a chapter is in terms of dialogue, the more it speaks to you. Especially when the chapter itself talks about sound. And that's the first thing Pochita will tell you: "pay more attention to the noise I make than to my words". Don't worry, everything will become crystal clear, but you have to take it one step at a time. The theme of this chapter is repeated three times. And this theme is not about the ears themselves. It's louder, it's more important, and it's about the power of CSM itself. To understand it, you take it one step at a time, savour every page and look at the beginning of this chapter.

Only the possessed woman with half a canine head manages to avoid Chainsaw Man's attack (OK, she ends up decapitated, but she managed to avoid it). It's not at all insignificant that it's a canine that manages to avoid Chainsaw Man. Knowing how to avoid when the rest of the elite don't even bat an eyelid when CSM comes at them shows you more than you think.

For a start, the animal aspect is reminiscent of several senses: smell, obviously, and the sixth sense, and these two senses should be placed on the same level of importance. The sixth sense is brought to mind by the number 6, which is present several times, just as the sense of smell is used to point out the demons who don't recognise faces but only smells: the knights of the apocalypse.

But let's not go too far, if we want to remain general, what this first part of the chapter evokes are the senses. If we try to divide the chapter into three parts, we end up with a dog that manages to avoid ; the explosion and disappearance of the ears.

Which gives us :

First part = senses

Second part = conflict

Third part = disappearance.

These different elements obviously need to be interpreted. We did it for the first part, let's do it for the other 2.

2. I mentioned smell, Fujimoto represents a spiral, and Yoru appears at the end ready to fight. So we need to associate the notion of conflict with the Knights of the Apocalypse who fought against CSM.

3. Disappearance, the ears disappear. Why do they disappear? Obviously because of Chainsaw Man's power.

So we end up with these three intrinsically linked sub-themes:

Senses

Knights of the apocalypse

Power of Chainsaw Man.

So we continue to unravel the threads. If the number 6 is mentioned, it's to encourage you to reread two chapters, chapter 6 and chapter 84, in which Makima talks about the sixth sense.

What do these two chapters have in common? They both deal with Chainsaw Man's power, one talking about the system of fears and the names of demons, the other about Chainsaw Man's power, what disappears and the conflict with the Knights of the Apocalypse.

All our themes are there. But I explained to you that it was recalled three times. It's mentioned a second time in the title (BZZZZ = sound of chainsaws, therefore evokes CSM, Boom evokes conflict, Chomp, something cut off). But that doesn't mean that the title simply recalls the themes, it does so through noise. Logically, we're talking about hearing in this chapter! But then again, it's also fundamental, we'll move on.

The three themes are recalled a third time in this page: the ears recall the senses, the cross with the arms of CSM the disappearance, the supression or its power and the spiral, the knights of the apocalypse. If all this is recalled in a single page, it's inevitably to link them.

So what is Pochita saying?

🌀❌👂

The knights of the apocalypse don't hear me.

Now that sounds obscure. But CSM is rich enough to help you understand the implications of such a statement. So why don't we reopen our tomes and look for chapter 53.

Angel explains that all the demons heard the sound of a chainsaw at the moment of their death in the underworld. As the life cycle of demons is infinite, this implies that they hear this sound at the moment of their death in the underworld as well as their rebirth on earth.

Keep this in mind. To give you a better understanding, I'm going to go back to chapter 104. In this chapter, Yoru explains that despite all the times she killed CSM, he came back. Haven't you ever wondered how Pochita could get up so many times and still be so powerful?

What's the secret behind his power, one of the conditions of which is that he is the most feared? How did he achieve this power?

You've heard this secret from the start:

"VRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR"

I think some of you will have rediscovered some of the links, while others may have lost their way. But let's imagine you're dying (poor soul) and I say to you as you take your last breath: AHAH WELL DONE!

And imagine that you are reborn. You're going to want to take revenge for what you've heard, aren't you?

Hell is by definition, not heaven............ It's not necessarily a place where people live together in peace............ So imagine a demon killed by another demon, but the devil who died hears chainsaws. They won't necessarily remember who killed them, but at least they'll remember the last noise he heard. Why? Because hearing is the last sense to diminish when you die.

So Pochita's secret is to make his chainsaws roar to regain his power. Because when a half-dead demon hears it, it frightens him. Logically associating it with death.

So what is the secret of the Knights of the Apocalypse? To rely on their sense of smell. Or to be more precise, to concentrate on another sense other than hearing. Just as the dog was able to do, since he neither looks at CSM nor hears him because he has no ears either. It's the key !

The Knights of the Apocalypse were able to fight CSM because they weren't afraid of him, concentrating not on the noise but on what was disappearing.

The more you concentrate on Chainsaw Man, the more you forget. So the clearer Makima saw her confrontation with Pochita, the more concepts escaped her.

So neither Makima nor Yoru, who focus a little too much on CSM, are the ones who remember the most. The one who remembers the most forgotten concepts but the least about her confrontation with CSM and the one who doesn't give a damn about anything.

At the same time as this chapter reveals a secret about Chainsaw Man's power, it also highlights a weakness: the devil eaten is not immediately forgotten, there is a time lag between the demon's disappearance and the forgetting of the name it represents. Once again, Yoru's reflex is to focus on what is disappearing, rather than, like Katana, on the lure of the chainsaws. How long does this time last? Once again, it's explained in this chapter.

I don't think the chainsaws were given much prominence in this chapter...? I mean, yes, they're there, but the way Pochita goes about it is more like using the eviscerated guts of his enemies. The intestines.

So digestion.

The disappearance of a concept is not instantaneous, it lasts as long as the concept is digested. So if Pochita spits it out..... or vomit.... before digesting…. the concept exists again!!!!!

Of course he's going to spit out the ears, I just pray that katana doesn't stay like that until the end…

But then if hearing is the sense that allows Pochita to be reborn very powerful. It doesn't do him any good to suppress that sense.

Precisely. If CSM dies, he won't be able to regain that power.

To remove his sense of hearing is to ensure that his power dies with him. And no one else benefits.

Above all, it's a sign to his opponents.

Last round.

[by-wronged-hands]

What a good boy you are…

(Thomas Hewitt x M! Reader)

Warnings: smut, insults

DISCLAIMER: This scene is from Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2, but Bubba Sawyer is replaced by Thomas Hewitt in this story.

It was a quiet night in K-OKLA’s office. Dark alleys were covered by the light of an almost full moon. No noises disturbed the silence. Regardless of this, you could not help but be worried. Half an hour ago, you had played the recording of a supposed murder by a killer who disappeared 14 years ago.

Your heart raced when a strange silhouette roamed around the lower room of the office. Cracking the door open, you were met by an eerie looking man. He begged for an autograph, a tour, songs, and hundreds of other things your mind wasn’t able to catch. Trying your best to push him away, his feet moved him closer.

Finally, you were both standing in front of a small closet. Inside, there were nothing more than countless vinyl records. Or, at least, that’s what you thought.

Seconds after he referred to them, a horrifying motor-like sound skyrocketed your fear. Almost losing your life to a chainsaw, you ran with every ounce of strength left in you after a tiring day. The adrenaline dragged your body to safety, immediately blocking the way with a resistant metal wall.

“Get that motherfucker, Leatherface!” The strange man from before yelled.

Metal against metal, a cacophony stirred between that irritating crash and your screams. Your throat felt as if it was burning away, with each screech full of fright.

Suddenly, the silence made its way back to you. Not for long, though. The wall on your left was brought down, and you recognized the sound of the chainsaw.

Taking a closer look to the man who held it, his long hair danced at every movement. His rough grip made you wonder how his fingertips would feel against your skin. His staggering height was highly intimidating. Yet, as soon as your eyes were set on his body, your terror began twisting into something else.

Something gut wrenching—you were bewitched by his size.

“Please…” you began speaking with no hesitation, “show me how good you can be”.

His chainsaw, which was now steady, began lowering. His eyes studied your body, seemingly curious. A barely audible huff left his lips.

“How good can you be? Huh?” You began teasing him.

A part of you wished to survive, but another part wished to see how far you could take this wicked arousement of yours. Thankfully, he began playing along.

You spread open your legs, and your hands travelled up your thighs. He followed closely with his gaze. At this point, every action of yours was careless. You allowed your lust to take control.

After staring for long enough, Leatherface took the blade of his chainsaw closer. Tracing the way from your ankle to your inner thigh, he stopped himself on top of your crotch. Putting pressure on it, your hips began rocking forward softly.

“Oh—you’re very good” you moaned under your breath to not alert the killer next door. Leatherface, visibly flustered, moved one of his hands away from the chainsaw handle. It was laid on top of his pants, which made you notice his growth.

Before he continued, he backed away. The man went into a spontaneous rampage, destroying the studio until nothing was left. You abstained from screaming.

He looked back at you for a second, and you caught a glimpse of his hunger. He then walked to his companion, and both crossed the exit. You could’ve sworn it was the end, and you were left with a problem to take care of, but he came right back.

He clumsily walked inside, and while leaning on a door frame, he grunted in discomfort. A cocky smile was shown from your side. You opened your legs once more, but this time he threw his weapon out of the way.

“What a good boy you are…come on”

He approached you in a rather awkward manner—a shy killer, who would’ve guessed?

You were desperate for his touch, and decided to walk over to him. You pushed him down onto a chair, and stood between his open legs. With a knee on his erection, you kissed him. Waiting for his permission to slide your tongue inside his mouth, your hands caressed him.

Every time you tried taking a slight peek at his face, he would either turn his head around or shove your face back in place.

His hands wrapped around your hips, pulling down on your knee.

“Should I call you Leatherface?” You said, between warm kisses. “Or, will you give me a proper name to moan?”

He grunted, and his grip became weaker. “Thomas…” he rushed out of his mouth. You went on to kiss his neck, also guiding his hand towards your little problem down there. The temperature rose between you two.

It was mostly you who initiated anything. Even opening his pants, or taking any clothing off of yourself.

“Can I see what’s under that mask of yours, big boy?” You were straightforward, yet you felt anxious to ask such a thing. He stiffened up a bit. Your hand held his cheek with delicacy, and his muscles once more eased.

Moments after, he allowed you to take a look at his face. His eyes ran away from yours, ashamed to confront your reaction. But, to his liking, your body only craved him more. As your knees touched the floor, you prepared your tongue for him.

“You’re still precious to me, Thomas.” His expression showed surprise, embarrassment too. “You…are so beautiful”.

Your mouth wrapped around him, fitting perfectly. Both craved the touch of another being, the love of another heart. He had sparked interest within your chest.

“I won’t be letting you go soon,” you said, cutting off his moans. You knew it wouldn’t be the last time you explored his body.

[betterinvienna]

but even though you're killing me | childe x gen!reader

chapter 1: prologue

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synopsis: Ajax is most attracted to the things that hurt him: combat, heartbreak, and you. Inspired by Chainsaw Man’s Angel, reader possesses deadly, unwanted power; to touch reader’s skin is to shorten your lifespan by an unspecified, varying amount. For this reason, reader resides in a secluded spot of Dragonspine and wears heavy, impenetrable clothing – well, up until reader’s life is impeded by a moment of weakness. Luckily for the lovestruck redhead, he’s here for a good time — not a long time.

[ 1.7k words — fluff & angst — no warnings ]

ac: rainsword01 on twt

author's note:

testing the waters here with a prologue. getting kind of busy, so i'm trying to put aside more time to write. definitely going to continue this story because i like the plot, but i just wanted to see if anyone else would like to follow the story as it goes along :') i've also discovered the art of using rich text instead of html on ao3. let's hope this goes well. find me on ao3 under the same user!

He found you in a tent, far away from Liyue’s main city. You laid there, tense and cold, fading in and out of consciousness under the biting wind and freezing temperatures. You were but a couple miles away from Dragonspine, your destination, when you fell victim to a forgotten trap that mangled your foot, ultimately incapacitating you.

“Hey,” he pushes your shoulder around, as if you were a doll. “Are you awake?”

You feel a hand on your shoulder. If not for your thick jacket, your adrenaline would have you up and running, away from him. Yet there must be a way to warn him either way?

Mustering up the last bit of energy anyone could get from braving these conditions, you manage to strain a weak “no.” You hate that he found you in this state, but your head is throbbing, and it feels like it’s about to roll clean off of your neck.

The ginger misunderstands and tilts his head to get a better look at you. “Oh. You’re not awake?” Your thumbnail digs into the plush of your upper palm, cursing him – or yourself – out in your head for your vague statement. He chuckles, not realizing the severity of the situation. “Apologies for getting in the way of your naptime, then.” You massage the crescent you left, controlling your breathing.

He pats you on the shoulder as a farewell, and you push out a meek “stop” mingled with “help.” You manage to move enough of your foot to call attention to it. His eyes dart to the crimson painted sheets covering your foot and he tears the film away, the blood glistening in the moonlight.

“Oh,” he mutters. He curses under his breath before backing out of the tent, his hand motioning a “wait”, and craning his neck to call for someone else, maybe a friend.

The rest that is memorable fades, and your foot still aches in a cardiac rhythm…

• • • 

“Did I tell you to pick up extra luggage on the way there?” 

“I don’t have to be told to do anything.” 

Your head has quieted, but your foot burns with the same momentum as before.

“Insufferable.” The man says it through his teeth – you can hear the air seethe through.

“It’s unfortunate you’re heartless.” The man from last night. “You weren’t raised right.”

“Mmm.” The other man clicks his tongue, possibly in faux agreement. “I wasn’t raised at all.”

Sun peeks through the blinds, and your eyes finally open from the illumination. When they do, you find yourself under scratchy, quilted covers in a wooden cabin, a fireplace lit in the near distance. Two men – one tall, one short – are standing in the common room.

You recognize the tall man’s fiery hair, and your memories begin to rush back. They stutter and cloud your mind, the air feeling funnily cloyed with a heavy steam.

Tent. Touch. Awake. No. Help. Foot. Touch. Touch.

Touch. That’s right. Your foot…

The situation begins to become more urgent now. Your neck snaps towards the icy window, in an effort to recognize your surroundings, and your headache returns. You choose to ignore it, feeling around the bed before tearing the warm cover from your body and examining your injury.

Bare and bandaged. Bare and bandaged.

Your headache is booming now. Your breath turns heavy, and you stumble to regain balance on your foot, rushing to pull on your thick clothes and get out of here.

“Hey – calm down.” The taller man rushes into the room, a firm hand on the doorframe. You now get a good look at his face. Freckled, sun kissed, and luminant. Scars litter certain parts of his face, but it only piques your curiosity momentarily. Even in those few seconds, you could tell his personality was merely a facade. Maybe he was left behind like you were. Maybe he's seen in a different light like you are. Maybe he's different - like you are. To be fair, he's gone out of his way to aid you. Why not give him the benefit of the doubt? Some leniency? Unfortunately, he’s handsome, but he’s dead if you don’t get out of here. He reaches for you, but you shriek and step back erratically. 

“Stop! Don’t – get away from me, please. Just. Stop.” You put a hand up. This is a familiar situation – always feeling like you’re an ungrateful bully to those who only wish you well. Like the monster on the hill - literally. “Thank you for helping me.” 

The shorter one appears now, glaring at you. His lips form unintelligible, probably condemning, words in the other man’s ear. He swats him away.

If he knew, he’d know better than to call this anything but heroic.

You wince at the ache of your foot, and he reaches for you again, but this time you launch yourself further back, onto the wall. Your back bones slam against the hardwood, the pain burning as it spreads through your back, reminiscent of a dull flame.

Not again. It won’t happen again. 

The shorter man rolls his eyes at you from behind the ginger and turns his back, walking off.

You slide down the wall, watching the man from before through your eyebrows. You dig your heels into the creaky wooden floors and anticipate his every move like a cornered animal. It’s annoying to feel that way. To be that way.

“Can you chill out?”

Okay. That caught you off guard. Chill out? 

You grit your teeth and hold up your hand to his face again, as if to say “stop.” If you’re going to leave him vulnerable to you, maybe you should tell him – or at least, give him a quick overview – about your full-time position as walking poison.

“Let me explain.” You sputter out, quickly, hopefully keeping him mentally preoccupied enough to not make any moves while you lay the groundwork. “Listen. I’m only going to tell you once. Don’t touch me. It’s something I don’t want to get into. Just don’t touch my bare skin. Please – trust me.”

He nods. Good. It doesn't matter what he thinks the reason behind it is. “That’s fine with me. Are you good to stand?” He holds out a hand and then glances at it. He retracts the hand with quickness and offers an apologetic smile instead. Awkward.

“I’m fine. I just need to get to this guy I know up the mountain.” Hand up again. “It’s none of your business, so I’ll be able to go myself.” You plant your palms flat against the wall and maneuver yourself up, careful to not place too much pressure on the plush of your foot. He seems to be looking at you more carefully now, like he wants to say something. For a cabin in the middle of Dragonspine, it smells awfully smoky in here.

“I’m Childe, by the way.”

You nod, being sure to keep surveillance on him tight as you trace the edges of the bedroom, collecting your belongings. You don’t really care for him – or his name. 

It’s whatever, anyway. He doesn’t have to know your name. Actually, he’d be better not knowing it. Or anything about you. From… continuous research, you’ve found that a person most often has 4 moments of contact with your bare skin before it’s wraps for them. Of course, the amount can be way higher – or way lower – than that, but as a child, you saw your fair share of destruction caused by doe eyes and an underdeveloped frontal lobe. Keeping your distance from everyone is something you’ve gotten used to. You make human contact here and there – like now, unfortunately – but it’s not like you’re a townie conversing with your favorite vendor every day and hopping off to tend to your humble, centenarian family restaurant bustling with the chattiest neighbors around.

It’s a life you’d like to live, not one you can live. That’s why the image is so detailed. You learned that very early on, albeit the hard way. Now, your life is one best spent with snowflakes, papers and pens, books, and the occasional trips around the snowy beast of a mountain. Solitude is nice. Solitude is yours. It’s not living or tangible, and it won’t put you in a box and leave you on a dingy Liyuean street during your most crucial developmental years.

“I get that you don’t want to talk.”

“Then why do you keep speaking?” At this, he winces.

Childe opens his mouth, then closes it again. His tongue darts out as makeshift chapstick, and you warily follow every movement. You begin to back out of the doorframe, into the living room, and it seems like Childe has finally given up on reconciliation – up until he seems to remember something. Here it comes.

“A guy up the mountain?” This is so annoying. You hate explaining. From years of isolation and people-watching, it’s painfully obvious when someone is trying to strike up further, unwanted, conversation with you. 

You decide it won’t hurt to humor him. Toss him a bone. They always run out of questions and mull over a fresh batch long enough for you to slip the other way. After a certain point, predictability gets irritating. “Albedo,” you breathe. “His name is Albedo.”

Childe’s eyes light up – but minimally. He’s lacking a fundamental "human" aspect, and you notice. Just like you noticed those hardened, deep scars. “I know him,” he backs up. Thank God. “I can take you to him.” Oh. 

This is the first time anticipating another’s steps has shot you in the foot. The atmosphere turns clammy and tense, and you want to get out of here, but Childe is persistent. It doesn’t seem that “I can take you to him” was formatted as an offer. He’s going on about leaving room for you in the carriage and apologizing for something, but you tune him out in interest of a more pressing matter.

Your foot burns, and you hobble towards the bed, grabbing the pin of the footboard. It’s an unnatural pain – you’ve dealt with pain before, it’s nothing new. But this feels different. It’s as if something is trying to crawl out your foot, making it a point to touch every single functional nerve on the way. It’ll likely be fine once you get to Albedo, but you’re starting to rethink travelling solo. 

Childe pops his head in the door, fine snow decorating his hair. “Are you coming?” 

You huff and tighten your iron grip on the pin. Think. How far would you make it before you fall over and become frozen food for the birds?

“I’m coming.”

[anomaly-hivemind]

Wanna Play Doctor || No. 12 Medical play, Somnophilia, and Costumes w/ Law x GN!Reader

Tags: Dubcon, somnophilia, medical play, handjobs

Kinktober Masterlist, One Piece Masterlist

Word count: 632

You were getting your ass handed to you in an online match of ‘Texas Chainsaw Massacre’ when Law peeked into the room from the bathroom. He had a few droplets falling down his chest, a towel wrapped around his shoulder. Law runs his hand through his simi-wet hair

As walks over to the bed. He leans back on the bed and looks up at you with a smile. You decide to start a new game, you were losing anyway and switch to Twitch. Picking a streamer you knew played long hours and set the volume to low. No one would be really watching it really anyway.

“How was work?” You placed the controller on the bedside counter, then turned to face him again.

“Tiring but when is it not?” he massaged his shoulder and sighed.

“Yeah, being a doctor is bound to be stressful,” Law grabbed your hand and yawned at your statement. You rub his shoulders slowly and firmly and he closes his eyes for a moment.

“Something like that.” Law was already dozing off at the minute's pace. He looked so sexy, naked with messy hair, and his chest tattoos look so kissable. You caress his hair , petting his hair until he's basically on the edge of being asleep. You carefully get up and head to the closet and steal a pair of scrubs, you'll wash them later.

The pants didn’t fit your ass so you opted to just wear the shirt and sit back on the bed. You went back to rubbing Law’s shoulder and even his pecks. He let out faint sighs as you felt him up slowly. You move slightly, your thighs around his head as you take your hands down further down his naked body.

Law stirs slightly from his sleep, you can’t help yourself. Running your hands up and down his abs like clockwork until your eyes catch something. Pitching a tent with a towel was sleepy Law’s dick. A smirk forms on your lips as the slight of his happy trail leads down to his peaking prize.

You shuffle to get closer to his waist so you can feel up your sleeping angel in more important places. You don't move the towel, simply giving an experimental poke to his tip. You look at him, he didn’t move so you do it again and this time the towel falls off a bit. You lick your lips, you love how sexy your boyfriend is, in all matters of fact.

“Baby.” a faint mumble escapes his lips but his eyes are still closed.

“Yes mister doctor,” you whispered in response to his half-continuous mumble. Your hand ran along his hard dick with a smirk.

“What are you doing” he said in a sleeping voice.

“”I thought I would take care of the doctor for a change. Think of me as your personal nurse.” you take a firmer grip on his manhood and he let out a husky groan.

You press a kiss his tip and he moans, man did you think he sounded sexy you started to jack him off less lacklusterly. His eyelids fluttered but didn't open and he bucked his his slightly, his mouth a bit gapped.

You teasingly run your tongue against his length, lapping up his precum with a moan of your own. You wrap your lips around him and you bob your head up and down his cock making your insides tingle. You feel him twitch in your mouth and you look up at him and see his eyes flutter again. His balls twitch and before you know it he comes down your mouth with the stutter of his hips.

[aszles]

since my first pinned post had a tierlist of csm characters, i decided to redo it as a tierlist of Fujimoto works instead! (i had only read csm when i made this sideblog) it's a lot less ever-changing so i feel a bit safer keeping something like this at the top of my blog lol...

within the tiers there is no specific order, they're just the things i happened to put in first. if you wanna make one here's the template! (made by yours truly)

because i'm a nerd you can read my opinions about each work below the cut~

S TIER

Chainsaw Man - i mean, csm is just awesome. in all honesty, this manga has changed my life. i KNOW that sounds silly and corny but it's genuinely true. i have been able to get past a lot of my struggles and develop so much as a person since starting this manga. as a fun bonus i feel like i've finally started improving my art again (or at least changing it enough to feel fresh) after like 3 years. i can't really describe how much csm has done for me, but if i had told myself from 2021 that this would happen i would never believe it (especially because i had written off this series for some personal reasons...lol) but yeah. i think i'll forever be grateful for what Chainsaw Man has done for me.

Look Back - i think Look Back is seriously the best piece of media i have ever experienced. i don't think i have ever seen a story so beautifully crafted as this manga, it made me sob when i read it. i remember having to move the manga away from myself so i wouldn't get tears on it. at the time of writing this i am SO SO excited to watch the movie, whenever that will be. i will cry and throw up watching that thing LOL.

Nayuta of the Prophecy - ok maybe i don't TECHNICALLY believe this is an S tier work, but Nayuta is just such a lovable character that i can't possibly rank her any lower. Fujimoto was right to adapt her into csm because she deserves it!! however despite that, this oneshot is the only one that i genuinely wish he would make a sequel to. i think oneshot Nayuta and csm Nayuta are pretty different, so they still don't feel like the same character - i would love to see oneshot Nayuta's personality and relationship with her brother continue to develop!

A TIER

Sisters - one of the few other works i had heard anything about before i started exploring Fujimoto's other stuff, and i definitely felt apprehensive about it. but wow, the fact that Fujimoto is able to take the concept of "girl non-consensually paints her sister naked and it gets displayed on the school wall for everyone to see" and NOT make it weird is crazy! a sweet oneshot that i enjoyed, and love the nuance that was able to be created in such a short amount of time.

Woke-Up-as-a-Girl Syndrome - a really cute take on a silly trope that can often be handled... oddly. i love how much the characters in this really feel like teenagers, doing stupid things but being completely earnest all the while. (Spoilers) i really like how it ends with Toshihide being adamant that he is still male, and also Rie still loving him as he is. very sweet!

Love is Blind - it's no wonder Fujimoto won an honourable mention for this, it's such an adorable and funny oneshot. i was giggling the whole time reading it! i don't really have much to say about it, but i definitely enjoyed it.

Fire Punch - i don't really know where to start with Fire Punch, but wow. it is seriously so impressive to me how good Fujimoto is at tackling such sensitive topics, not shying away from them while also clearly not glorifying them. i also think a big place where Fire Punch shines is character relationships, especially Agni and Togata. they fucked me UPPPPP. it goes off the rails a bit near the end, but i also never got the feeling that it WASN'T what Fujimoto intended with this series. i may not quite get the ending, but it didn't ruin anything for me and i think the rest of Fire Punch is really good at what it does. plus the art is AWESOME ?????

B TIER

Goodbye, Eri - ohhh people might not like me for this one... i'm sorry guys, i just honestly didn't get this manga. i'll definitely reread in the future (me and my sister still haven't finished our sticky notes to read it blurry/clear) but for now i can't rank it any higher. i didn't feel much reading it, and the ending definitely confused me a lot lol. love the art though!

Shikaku - this one's interesting! i thought the story was quite cute, and Shikaku herself is completely adorable. though Yugeru is ummm... not my type let's say. i also do wonder if Makima took any inspiration from Shikaku - she looks similar to her, which to be fair for Fujimoto works probably doesn't mean much (as a lot of his character's look similar to each other /pos), but a clearer comparison is both characters presenting eyeballs they stole from people. (also... if Makima is inspired by Shikaku, is Barem then inspired by Yugeru? yuck) anyways just my speculation, back to the point. the reason this doesn't make its way into A tier is because to me it doesn't really feel like a Fujimoto work? i'm not sure why, but yeah.

C TIER

Mermaid Rhapsody - this one's definitely cute, but as a result of Fujimoto trying to create a "normal story" it unfortunately loses all of the charm of Fujimoto works!! i want it to be weird and fucked up damnit!!!!! though he did succeed in his goal of creating a normal story, so i can't complain too much lol.

Sasaki Stopped a Bullet - i don't have anything against this oneshot, but i think it just doesn't particularly appeal to me. unfortunately nothing in this story grabbed me

D TIER

A Couple Clucking Chickens Were Still Kickin' in the Schoolyard - it's no real surprise this is here, considering it's Fujimoto's first work. overall it was pretty cute, but i'm not all that into aliens..? not much to say lol

if you read all this then thank you >_o

[ladyloveandjustice]

My Favorite New Manga and Graphic Novels I Read in 2023

It's time to take a look at the comics and manga I read this year! I read  a whopping 78 manga and graphic novels in all. Here's a link to my Goodreads year in books (the manga is at the beginning, the novels start with Siren Queen) and my storygraph wrap up.

I also read 36 novels! If you want to see my favorites, check out my reviews here!

And finally, I've got the continuing manga series I've enjoyed this year here, so check that post out too!

The Magic Fish by Trung Le Nguyen

This is a tale about a first-generation Vietnamese-American boy struggling with coming out to his mother. He connects with his mother through fairytales-- she uses them to express her journey as an immigrant, and he uses them to explore his queerness and identity as a Vietnamese kid growing up in America. It's an absolutely gorgeous book full of Trung Le Nguyen's signature stunning art. The fantastical, ethereal fairy tales are weaved beautifully into the lives of the characters. The book explores how fairy tales can form connection, can express culture, can tap deeply into something real and true, and can offer tragedy and catharsis. The protagonist uses fairy tales to write his own story, and the ending is lovely and moving.

Exit Stage Left: The Snagglepuss Chronicles by Mark Russell and Mike Feehan

You may know Mark Russell from his darker, socially aware re-imagining of the Flintstones, which made quite a splash on Tumblr with this post. Well, I had pleasure of meeting him at a local convention, and I finally got his comic re-imagining of Snagglepuss, also of Hanna-Barbera. He re-imagines the titular pink puma as a closeted gay playwright in the 50's dealing with McCarthyism. It's as wild as it sounds,but also really digs into the politics of the time, the struggle of standing against oppression and how art fights through suppression and censorship. It's tragic, hopeful, poignant and full of historical references. I enjoyed it ! Definitely be cautious if you're deeply disturbed by homophobia and suicide.

The Summer Hikaru Died by Mokumokuren

A story about a teenage boy, Yoshiki, who realizes that his best friend and crush Hikaru has died and been replaced by a strange eldritch being who is imitating him. But, missing his loved one and desperate to cling to any piece of him, Yoshiki decides to keep on having a relationship with this mysterious entity. This book's horror is visceral and sublime, especially the bizarre, creepy, beautiful body horror involving the being who replaced Hikaru. It's an exploration of anxieties involving grief, relationships, and sexuality that hits just right, and the atmosphere layered with dread is top notch. I love me some messed up relationships and unknowable queer monsters, and this book delivers.

Chainsaw Man, Look Back and Goodbye Eri by Tatsuki Fujimoto

Chainsaw Man needs no introduction, but I did end up really enjoying the story of the doggy-devil boy hunting other devils. It got so tragic and intense at the end, with lots of great surreal horror imagery and darkly funny moments. I'm impressed it went so hard, though the random powers that kept piling up made what was happening hard to follow at times, especially in fights. I'm also enjoying the current weird arc starring a class-A disaster girl and the demon sharing her body.

Look Back

I really do enjoy how Fuijimoto writes messy pre-teen/teenage girls. They ring so true. The manga follows the fraught friendship between two girls as they create manga, exploring the struggle of art mixing with real relationships, and how someone keeps creating after tragedy. It's a little hard to follow at times (especially since I have to differentiate the leads based on hairstyle), but it's a good read.

Goodbye Eri

Probably my least favorite of the three, but it's a fun read- a weird ride that examines the thin line between fiction and reality in art and makes good use of Fujimoto's cinephile background and signature gaslight gatekeep girlboss characters.

Is Love the Answer? by Uta Isaki

The story follows a teenage girl, Chika, who has always struggled with not being attracted to anyone. When Chika enters college, she meets queer people all across the spectrum of asexuality, and starts exploring her own identity. As an ace, this is the best story about asexuality that I've read. It was a nuanced look at asexuality and queerness and all the variations. Chika's journey and how she found her community was moving and poignant. It's a honest, moving look at relationships and identity, and how complicated and hard to define both of those things can be. I loved the moments of Chika imagining herself as an alien to explore and cope, and how she bonded with people through magical girl shows and other geekery. My favorite new manga of the year, it really connected with me!

The Girl that Can’t Get a Girlfriend by Mieri Hiranishi

Oh girl, I've been there. This is a fun autobiographical comic about a butch4butch lesbian's struggles finding a partner in a word that favors butch/femme, and it's just an honest look at the messiness of loneliness and relationships. I also appreciate that crushing on Haruka in Sailor Moon and becoming a HaruMichi stan was the beginning the author's queer awakening because uh...same! She has taste, and is truly relatable.

Qualia the Purple: The Complete Manga Collection by Hisamitsu Ueo and Shirou Tsunashima

See my review of the light novel here for my general thoughts on the story, since it's adapted pretty faithfully. I do think the manga is overall the best experience though, because the illustrations break up the detailed explanations of quantum mechanics a bit, and it includes a bit of extra content that fleshes things out, especially withthe ending.

The Single Life: 60 year old lesbian who is single and living alone by Akiko Morishima

Just like it says on the tin, this focuses on a 60-year-old single lesbian. And definitely the shortest thing on here, since only one 30 page chapter is out.  It's a grounded story about a woman looking back on her journey to finding her identity, touching on sexism in the workplace and other challenges. It paints a portrait of a proudly gay elder who's still perfectly content being single and feels fulfilled by the life she had rather than regretting past relationships. I definitely want to see more.

Daemons of the Shadow Realm by Hiromu Arakawa

Arakawa's latest, the story is about a boy who lives in a small village with his little sister is imprisoned and has to carry out a mysterious duty...but then the village is attacked, supernatural daemons awaken, and everything he knows might be wrong. I'm enjoying this fun romp so far! It delivers an really nice plot twist right out the gate (and an excellent subversion of the usual shonen "must-protect-my-saintly-sister" narratives). It boasts Arakawa's usual fun cast and interesting world (and cool ladies). There's some slight tone and pacing issues in the first part- there's so much time spent explaining mechanics the lead doesn't really get to react to his life turning upside down. But it starts smoothing out by the second volume. I'm excited to see what's next!

Superman: Space Age by Mark Russell and Michael Allred

This is a retelling of Superman set throughout the late fifties to early eighties that has Superman interact with the political and social upheaval of the time and question his own role in things. It explored the Superman mythos through a lot of cool new angles, and has a good Lois (why yes she would break Watergate) which is how I always measure a Superman adaptation. My one complaint is, while I liked some of the things it did with Batman, the ending with the Joker was pretty weak. The ending of the overall comic will also be bizarre for anyone not uses to how weird comics can get, but I think I dug it.

#DRCL by Shin'ichi Sakamoto

A manga retelling of Dracula that focuses on Mina as the protagonist and imagines the characters at an English prep school. It adds a lot of  diversity to the characters  and has exquisite, evocative art. I'm curious where it will go and what it  intends to do with all it's changes (especially Lucy), because right now it's mostly vibes and creepiness and the direction isn't clear.

[metallicaislife]

Unwell

A/N: A self indulgent blurb bc I don't feel good and wish this was a reality hahah 😭💕

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 805

Warnings: Swearing

“I have a cough, are you sure you still want me to come over?” I asked Saul over the phone as I sat on my couch. 

“It’s probably just your smokers' hack.” He replied. 

“Tell her if she doesn’t get here soon we’re gonna start the movie without her!” I heard Duff yell in the background. 

“You heard the man.” Saul said. 

“Fine.” I grumbled, “I’ll be there soon.” 

“See ya fucker.” Saul hung up. 

I rolled my eyes and got up putting a jacket on. I drove to Saul’s and entered without knocking. 

“Look who finally decided to show up.” Duff said as I entered the living room. 

“Shut up McKagan.” I said plopping down on the couch. 

“You know what I love best about you? Your cheery disposition.” Duff grinned. 

“Haha.” I said dryly and flipped him off. “What are we watching?” I asked, turning my attention to Saul who walked in with some popcorn. 

“I rented Labyrinth.” He smiled. I grinned back at him as he sat next to me. I’ve known Saul for a couple years, we used to be neighbors in an apartment building, and kept in contact after he moved. I have the biggest crush on him, but I’m content just being his friend.

The movie started and I wanted to melt into his side like normal but my throat kept tickling and I had to cough every few minutes. 

“Jesus.” Duff huffed. 

“I warned Saul.” I said. 

Duff and I were best frenemies. He’s the sweetest guy but we love to push each other's buttons. 

About half way through the movie I got up to use the restroom. 

“Want me to pause it?” Saul asked. 

“Nah, I've already seen it a bunch of times.” I replied. 

When I came out of the bathroom the movie was paused.

“Fuck me gently with a chainsaw.” I grumbled.

Duff threw his head back with a laugh. 

“What’s wrong?” Saul asked.

“I just started my period, I’m pretty sure I have a cold, and look at the dark bags under my eyes, I’m pretty sure they have their own goddamn zip code.” I said pointing to my eyes. 

“You do look like you got dragged to hell by a semi-truck.” Duff said laughing. I flipped him off and he raised his hands, “sorry. I’ll leave you be.” He continued laughing as he left. 

“Go lay in my bed and I’ll bring you some soup.” Saul said. 

“No it’s okay, I should probably go home.” I said, grabbing my jacket. Saul caught my elbow. 

“I wasn’t asking. Go lay down.” He said again. My heart melted a little, as did my resolve to leave. 

“Thank you.” I said and made my way to his room. I found some of his clothes changing into them then cocooned myself in his blankets. 

Saul came in a short while later with a bowl. I sat up and he handed it to me. 

“Thank you.” I smiled softly. He sat next to me as I sipped on the soup. He reached out, putting his hand on my forehead. 

“You feel warm. When you finish the soup you should sleep.” He stated. 

“Are you sure I can stay here? I don't mind driving home.” I said. 

“If you go home, who is going to take care of you?” He asked. 

“Me.” I replied. He shook his head.

“That won’t do.” He said. 

“But what if you get sick?” I asked him softly.

“Then you can take care of me.” He smiled. 

“You’d love it if I played nurse, huh?” I teased with a small laugh that triggered a cough. He took the soup from my hands so I didn’t spill. When I regained my breath he brought the spoon to my mouth. 

“You’re right, I would love it if you were my nurse.” He grinned and continued feeding me the soup. My cheeks were heated and it wasn’t the fever. When I finished the soup Saul left to take the bowl to the kitchen. 

I laid back down feeling more tired than I had realized. 

Saul came back to his room and I heard him shuffling about until the bed dipped and I felt him get under the covers. He scooted over until he was right behind me. He wrapped a strong arm around me pulling me into him. We cuddled on a couch during movies. This is new though. 

“Are you comfortable?” He asked. 

“Yeah.” I replied softly. 

“Good. Now get some sleep, okay?” He said and nuzzled his head on top of mine. 

I thought my heart would have been trying to beat out of my chest but all I felt was peace and safety. My last thought before drifting off was that I don’t think Saul and I will be just friends for much longer. 

Thank you for reading! Feel free to request or chat :)

-Isa

[b1xi]

𝙄 𝙗𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙤𝙜𝙨—チェンソーマン

Aki Hayakawa x fem! Reader

I wrote this out of the blue while I was re-watching Chainsaw Man for what would be the second time, I hope you go watch the other episodes and enjoy them as much as I did, don't hesitate to give your opinion

Read the full story here

Leaning against the edge of your office desk, your hand moved almost automatically over the medical reports of the last patients you treated that evening. Your eyes, tired but focused, occasionally drifted toward the small television in the corner. On the screen, a man with a deep voice recounted the latest news about the demon attacks that had occurred in recent days.

The sudden sound of the door opening startled you, making the pen in your hand draw an unintended line across one of the pages you were reviewing.

"You're still here," your colleague remarked, his figure silhouetted against the dim light of the hallway. There was a note of surprise in his tone, but also a hint of exhaustion. He leaned slightly against the doorframe before continuing. "Takahashi said you can head home now."

Without waiting for a response, he closed the door behind him, leaving you alone once again. You let out a long sigh, followed by a yawn that carried the accumulated weight of the day. Stretching your arms above your head, you eased some of the tension in your muscles and took a quick glance at the watch on your wrist. The hands showed 11:00 PM. It was time to call it a day.

With deliberate movements, you gathered your bag and keys, making sure to turn off the lights and leave everything in order. As you stepped outside the building, the cool, slightly damp night air greeted you. The city seemed quieter than usual, though the distant echo of sirens and the occasional murmurs of passersby were reminders that the nightlife never completely stopped.

Too tired to walk to the train station, you decided to call a taxi to get home. While waiting by the curb, your thoughts briefly returned to the words of the news anchor. The attacks seemed to be increasing in frequency, and although you didn’t show it, a latent unease stirred within you.

The taxi arrived within minutes. You stepped into the vehicle with measured steps and gave the driver your apartment address. From your spot by the window, you watched as the city lights slid across the glass, distorted by a thin layer of drizzle that had begun to fall. The streets, still damp from recent rain, reflected the glow of neon signs and streetlights, creating an urban landscape as melancholic as it was mesmerizing.

"Should I call Aki?" you wondered as you unlocked your phone and checked your message inbox. The empty screen greeted you with a familiar sense of void. "Maybe he forgot to let me know he got home. He’s probably exhausted," you thought, trying to soothe the faint pang of unease in your chest. You leaned your back fully against the leather seat, letting the gentle rumble of the moving vehicle ease your tension.

The ride was short. You thanked the taxi driver before stepping out, feeling the cool air and drizzle brush against your face. Digging through your bag, you found your keys and used them to unlock the building’s door. As you entered your apartment, silence enveloped you, broken only by the faint hum of appliances and the distant noise of the city.

You removed your shoes and placed them neatly by the entrance. Your eyes, adjusting to the dimness, scanned the familiar space. The small living room connected to the kitchen was dimly lit by the reflections from neighboring apartments. That soft light gave the space a strangely tranquil feeling, though not entirely welcoming.

As you turned toward the door, your eyes caught a detail you hadn’t noticed when you came in: Aki’s keys were hanging in their usual spot by the frame. A wave of relief washed over you. "He’s home," you thought, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

You knew all too well how demanding Aki’s job was. As a demon hunter for Public Safety, his life was constantly at risk, facing creatures that defied human comprehension. But it wasn’t just his fight; as his partner, you shared the burden of uncertainty and the dangers that loomed over him daily. It wasn’t an easy role to take on, but you did it because, in the end, he was also fighting for a better future for both of you.

You crossed the living room with measured steps, the echo of your footsteps barely audible on the wooden floor. Reaching the hallway, you paused for a moment to consider your next move. "Maybe I should sleep in my old room tonight," you thought, remembering that Aki, after a long day of work, deserved to rest without interruptions.

With that thought in mind, you began to undress, setting aside your clothes from the day and staying in just a sleeveless shirt and your underwear. Opening the door to your old room, you were greeted by the slightly stale air, along with the familiarity of a space you had mostly abandoned since you and Aki started sharing more than just an apartment.

A soft smile formed on your lips as you let your gaze wander around the room. Memories of how your relationship began flooded your mind—a mix of sweetness and a certain ridiculousness that still managed to draw a quiet laugh from you. Before Aki became something more, he was just your roommate, and long before that, he was a patient who could barely bring himself to speak to you.

The first time you met him, you were still an intern with little time at the hospital. You had been assigned a simple case: a young man with a relatively minor abdominal injury, though still serious enough to warrant care. Reviewing his file, you discovered he was a Public Safety worker.

"Hello, Mr. Hayakawa," you greeted in a professional but kind tone as you pulled back the curtain separating his bed from the others.

The young man with black hair and blue eyes glanced up slightly, nodding without saying a word. His expression was marked by exhaustion and, perhaps, pain.

You approached carefully, holding his file in one hand and disposable gloves in the other.

"I’m going to check your wound. Would you mind reclining a bit more so I can get a better look?"

Without a word, Aki adjusted himself with deliberate movements, his rigid posture betraying a hint of discomfort. You tried to start some casual conversation while you worked—an attempt to distract him from the pain and create a more relaxed atmosphere—but he barely responded. It was clear he preferred silence, a barrier that, at the time, you assumed wouldn’tbe easy to break.

From that day on, Aki became a frequent patient during your shifts. He would return again and again, with minor injuries that any hunter with his experience could have handled at home. However, you never questioned him, and it certainly never bothered you. There was something about his visits—about that quiet connection between the two of you—that began to feel intentional. Over time, you realized you were complicit in that interest, faint at first but seemingly growing with each encounter.

One random Sunday night, you were sitting on the floor of your small apartment, surrounded by boxes of your belongings. You had made the difficult decision to move in order to cut expenses. Things weren’t going well at work; your salary barely covered your needs, as most of it went toward the medications and treatments for your parents, who had been struggling with health problems for months. The weight of responsibility was suffocating, and though you tried to keep your head high, it was clear you needed a change.

A colleague at the hospital had suggested the idea of finding a roommate. At first, you hesitated, but the logic behind the proposal was sound. With a job as demanding as yours, you barely spent time at home, so sharing a space with someone else didn’t seem like a burden. Splitting expenses would be a relief for your finances, allowing you to focus on your obligations without worrying so much about rent.

After days of searching, you found a promising ad: a small apartment, not too far from central Tokyo. The photos showed a clean, cozy place, ideal for someone with your lifestyle. The information about the person renting it was sparse, but you didn’t detect anything suspicious or alarming in their profile. You made the decision quickly, filled out the necessary forms, and scheduled a meeting with who would be your future roommate.

What you never imagined was that person would be Aki Hayakawa.

When you saw him for the first time at the apartment entrance, the surprise was evident on your face. Aki, with his serious demeanor and the reserved gaze you remembered so well from his visits to the hospital, stood in front of you with the apartment keys in his hand. He seemed equally startled upon recognizing you, though his expression remained stoic, as was typical for him.

“You?” you asked, unable to stop a small laugh from escaping your lips.

“I guess we’ll be roommates,” Aki replied in his usual tone, though a faint curve at the corner of his lips hinted at something resembling a smile.

That was the beginning of an unexpected coexistence. What started as a practical solution to your financial troubles soon became a complex relationship, filled with shared moments that brought you closer than you ever thought possible. Aki, the quiet and disciplined man you had first met as a patient, became a constant in your life, defying all your expectations and, before you realized it, becoming much more than just a roommate.

You shook your head lightly, trying to dispel the memories that, while beautiful, wrapped you in a warm sense of nostalgia. Two years together had left an indelible mark on your life, filled with moments of affection and complicity. However, now was not the time to get lost in those memories.

You walked toward your room but stopped abruptly when you stumbled upon a small pile of sheets and old clothes carelessly left on the floor, not far from your bed. You frowned, briefly assessing the mess, but decided to postpone dealing with the heap of textiles for another time. "Tomorrow," you thought with a tired sigh.

With a resigned gesture, you let your body sink into the mattress, old but still comfortable, that had endured more sleepless nights and wandering thoughts than you could count. The weight of the day began to fade away slowly as you closed your eyes, letting the silence of the night settle around you.

But tonight, exhaustion overcame even your most persistent thoughts. You allowed yourself to surrender to sleep, hoping that, upon waking, you would find Aki in the kitchen with a cup of coffee already prepared, as he always did whenever you came home late.

However, the morning brought a scene you hadn’t anticipated. The soft murmur of movement in the living room was what first caught your attention. Stepping out of your bedroom, your eyes landed on the sight of a young man, about 16 years old, sitting at the dining table. His relaxed and carefree demeanor contrasted with the chaos of snacks scattered across the table as he spread an absurd combination of every available jam onto a single slice of bread.

You blinked, confused, before noticing Aki standing in the kitchen with his back to you, inspecting something at the sink. You walked toward him quietly, placing a hand on his back to get his attention.

“Good morning,” you greeted softly, the affection in your voice unmistakable.

wasn’t going to be as simple as you had initially thought.

Denji continued eating without much concern, as if his presence in the apartment wasn’t particularly odd. You watched as he wiped the remnants of jam off his fingers, seemingly oblivious to the slight tension in the air. There was something behind his carefree attitude that didn’t quite add up, but you weren’t sure if you should press further.

Finally, after a few moments of awkward silence, you decided to steer the conversation into smoother waters.

"I'm Aki's girlfriend," you said softly, breaking the silence without wanting to come across as distant or uncomfortable. "Denji, tell me more about yourself," you added kindly, looking at the boy.

It wasn’t every day that a boy his age, seemingly without family, ended up in your home. And while it wasn’t in your nature to be overly curious, the situation was unusual. If he was going to live there, you at least wanted to understand a little more about his story.

Denji, unbothered, let out a sigh before responding in a somewhat monotone voice.

“Well, I’m Denji… I’m 16… and, uh, that’s pretty much it,” he said, as if there wasn’t anything else worth mentioning about his life. Seeing that you weren’t reacting much, he added, “Oh, wait. I work as a devil hunter, thanks to Miss Makima.” He returned to licking the jam off his fingers with the same nonchalance.

"That’s it..." you thought, unsure if he was being sincere or just uncomfortable talking about himself.

Standing up calmly, you walked over to Aki and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. The small gesture, filled with affection, was enough to convey what you couldn’t put into words.

"I have to get to work," you said softly before heading toward the bathroom. The routine of the day quickly took hold of you, and as you got ready, your thoughts drifted. Denji’s presence in the apartment, under Aki’s watchful eye, left you with a faint unease, but you knew there wasn’t much you could do about it.

When you stepped out, the kitchen was filled with the comforting aroma of lunch that Aki was calmly preparing. Denji was still in the living room, engrossed in the letters of a newspaper. You watched him for a moment; he seemed like a child, despite everything surrounding his life. He murmured to himself as he pieced together the words on the page, completely absorbed in the task as if it were as ordinary as breakfast.

Before leaving, you walked over to Denji, offering a slight smile as you said goodbye.

"See you tonight. Bye, Denji," you said with a light smile.

Denji, without looking up from the paper, barely raised his hand in a distracted wave, his response as fleeting as his focus.

Aki, who was already near the door by then, picked up your keys and coat without a word. The gesture, though simple, spoke of his quiet concern for you.

“See you tonight,” he said softly, helping you into your coat and leaving a warm kiss on your lips—a kiss he always gave you, imbued with a tenderness that made you feel safe, as if nothing in the world could take you away from him.

“See you tonight,” you repeated, savoring his closeness for a moment longer. You hugged him briefly, pulling him toward you by his shirt, seeking that comforting connection. The feeling of having him so close calmed you, but before stepping away, you added in a softer tone, “Be kind.”

You looked at him, knowing exactly why you said it. Aki, while deeply loyal and protective, could be somewhat curt, especially with those he didn’t know well. You knew that with Denji, his attitude could be even colder, even if, at the end of the day, the boy was still just a child.

Aki furrowed his brow slightly at your words, but his expression softened almost instantly, a sign that he understood the concern hidden behind your suggestion.

“I will,” he replied, his eyes fixed on yours, though there was a hint of hesitation that quickly disappeared. Then, he leaned toward you once more, placing a final kiss on your forehead—a silent gesture of affection—before you walked out the door.

[bipanicoverthegravessiblings]

Not sure if you've seen it but could you please do a Graves siblings x Denji from Chainsaw Man style reader?

I’ve never seen Chainsaw Man, not an anime guy- but reading up the Wiki gave me some idea

Andrew and Ashley Graves x Denji Style!Reader

It’s been said many times your impulsivity and general unawareness would be your downfall

Mostly by old farts who think of you as nothing but street trash

It’s not your fault you never finished high school. Not your fault you never socialized properly as a child.

They can fuck off for all you care

But in this moment…you hated how right they were

Your breathing was staggered, air becoming a commodity as you felt blood fill your lungs. Your body curled up into itself, clutching your stomach. Everything hurt. It hurt to move, it hurt to breathe, it hurt to be alive.

Footsteps became distant, leaving you in this cold- trash ridden alley, the pricks taking your wallet- and dignity- with them. Not like they’d find much, you had about 20 bucks to your name. They’ll be back for more eventually.

Most kids got their father’s eyes, some their noses- not you. No. Your father oh so graciously left you with his debt to the fucking mob! Asshole thought putting a new hole in his head would get him out of it, and it did- but all that fell on to you. You swore that as your swollen ear was pressed to the concrete, you could hear the prick laughing from hell.

You were gonna die here. You knew that. At least then the debt will finally be gone, you don’t have a kid to pass it along to and you’re an only child. Maybe they’ll track down your mother?….

You groan in pain, though it’s a pitiful attempt to call for help. No one will come find you. They’ll probably think you’re just some homeless person wallowing in their misery.

You tried to open your eyes, but unfortunately they were both too swollen to accomplish that. Tears pricked the corners and fell down your cheeks- causing you to hiss in pain. It hurt too much to cry, but you couldn’t help but sob as breathing became harder and harder. Your throat swelled in pain, you couldn’t swallow down the blood filling it.

Air slowly left your body as you drifted into unconsciousness….the last thing you remember feeling was a hand on your arm.

By all accounts, you should be dead

You wish you were dead

But god is a sick fuck who kicks around their most pathetic toys for entertainment

And you’re one of his pathetic toys

You slowly came too, the feeling of trash bags no longer cushioning you- but rather an actual cushion.

It smelled of cigarettes, but it was honestly preferred over wet garbage

Your body felt sore, but significantly less bloody

In fact….you were patched up

Poorly, some bandages were loose and some were way too tight- but it was better than exposed wounds that could get infected

You attempted to lift yourself to a sitting position, but the pain was unbearable. Along with that, any motions you continued to make were interrupted by two voices,

“Oh hey- woulda look at that. A zombie.”

“Oh my god!”

You couldn’t even register what was happening before you felt someone at your side. Helping you up was a guy, around your age you estimated, with messy black hair and striking green eyes. He struggled to hold you up and grab a pillow, so he narrowed his eyes over the back of the couch.

“Give me a hand would ya!” It wasn’t so much of a question as a demand.

“God! Alright alright, hang on.”

Shuffling noises became closer, but it was all behind you and it hurt to try and turn to inspect. From what you could hear though, the voice sounded more feminine and significantly more chill about this situation than the guy.

Speaking of which, the guy carefully lowered you on to some pillows, a couple throw ones from the dingy couch and one more fit for a bed. You got a better look at the owner of the feminine voice.

She was shorter than the guy, same messy black hair- only this time tied back into a ponytail. Her eyes were a soft shade of pink. She stared at you unamused while the guy hovered over you worriedly. It made you anxious. What sucked even more was you didn’t know who these people were, and why you were here! Last you remembered you were dying in an alley! The fuck?!

“Oh shit- uhm-“ the guy bit down on his finger to think, “Fuck what do we do?”

“Beats me,” the woman shrugged, “It was your idea to bring them here.”

“THE FUCK IT WAS”

You flinched at the sudden change of tone.

He pointed a finger at the woman, who stood unphased still, “You are not putting this on me- not again! You had the bright idea of using them for—“ he paused, suddenly remembering your presence. If you weren’t so out of it you would’ve said something, but instead he grabbed the woman by her wrist and led her into the bathroom with her protesting the entire way.

Finally, with your changed seating position and privacy, you could examine where the hell you were. Taking a look around at the peeling wallpaper, stained carpet, and two dingy beds (one surprisingly made despite there being two occupants)- you deduced it was a motel. A motel with very thin walls that allowed you to vaguely pick up on the two’s hushed conversation….

“….lets just ditch them.”

“No! We can’t do that…..might go to the police.”

“Maybe not….they looked like a bum.”

“Ashley!”

“Well? Am I wrong?”

The rest was a back and forth of deciding your fate while you sat by, twiddling your thumbs….or you would if you could move your arms. At least you learned the name of one of your saviors….or captors in this case.

Moments later, the guy and Ashley exited the bathroom- standing before you, one significantly more tense than the other.

“Uhm- sooooo, hi.” The guy started.

“Hey…” your voice was still strained from pain, “Look I heard you two in the bathroom….I won’t tell the cops anything.”

“Yeah, cause you’re not leaving.”

Crickets. You couldn’t believe your ears.

“I….” You blinked, “I’m what?”

“See- here’s the thing,” Ashley strode forward, ignoring the guy’s protest, “You’ve seen our faces, and thanks to these thin ass walls you know my name at least. His is Andrew by the way—“

“Ashley!”

“What? I’m not going down alone!” She retorted before turning to you again, “So, you can’t leave.” She sounded a little disappointed.

You blinked, still processing all of this. Did you just get kidnapped?? You took in the figured of your captors, their body languages vastly different. But…in some sick way….this benefited you.

The mob thinks you’re dead. You can’t just walk free now, not in case one of their members finds you alive and reports it back to their boss. And these guys are already on the run from what it seems…

You can work with this.

Andrew Graves

The more comfortable you became to this situation- the more it was apparent you and Ashley were tiring Andrew out

He had grown used to his sister’s impulsivity, but your own was new territory to him

Also a new source of gray hairs…

Honestly, you assumed he hated you

But….despite what he says- you believed Ashley when she told you that bringing you along was his idea

Things still felt tense, just the two of you

And you’re still not entirely convinced he enjoys having you around

But that just made the moments where your brazen antics made him laugh all the more enjoyable

To an extent, Andrew was patient with you

He took care of a lot of the social and book smarts stuff, areas you lacked in

It felt nice having someone take care of it, instead of chastising you to do better

Andrew stared at you in quiet disgust, his elbow rested on the diner’s table. In your run, the three of you decided to stop at this diner to eat. The place was littered with 50’s memorabilia- neon signs, a jukebox, obnoxiously plush booths to sit in. Great if you ignore literally everything about the 50’s!

You had settled next to Andrew, sitting closest to the wall while he took then end. Ashley had seated across from you two, but she had since gone to the bathroom, leaving just you two.

Seated on the table in front of you was an array of sauces, each opened for you to dip your fries into. The concoction of sauces were a mess on your shirt, face, and hands- something Andrew visibly recoiled at.

Andrew scoffed, “Y/N-“ you looked up, “C’mere.”

Reaching over you, Andrew grabbed a napkin and dabbed at the sauce on your face- to which you squirmed at irritably. Andrew narrowed his eyes.

“Hold still!” He became a little more aggressive with his cleaning, “God- has anyone ever taught you how to clean yourself!”

You decided to fight back in the only way you could think of, and that was by throwing a sauce covered fry at Andrew. You both paused as the projectile stuck to his sweater before it pathetically peeled on and on to the floor below you two. You blinked. Andrew blinked, then grabbed a fry, and threw it back at your face.

What followed was an in booth fight of several things being thrown: sauces, food, punches- ending with Andrew getting you in a headlock.

“Say it!”

“Never!”

“Fucking say it!” Andrew tightened the headlock as you flailed about.

You wheezed, “Ah! Asshole I can’t breathe!” You tried to pry his arm away, “Fine! Uncle! Uncle!”

With that, he released you- leaving you wheezing as you scooted away. He had that smug grin on his face though, a grin of victory. You flipped him off.

“Dick.” You muttered.

Andrew grabbed a napkin and began cleaning himself off, “You started it friend, I finished it.” He turned to you, pushing his basket of untouched fries to you, “Here. Most of yours are on the floor.”

You looked at him, tentatively reaching your hand for the basket before quickly pulling it to your side- feasting on them like a rabid raccoon. Andrew no longer watched in disgust, but a strange fondness in his eyes.

Ashley Graves

Maybe part of the reason Ashley kept you around was because you went along with her ideas

They were about the same thought process you had, so why not

You two always beat Andrew in votes for how to navigate a problem

And somehow always ended up pushing through it

Maybe she just liked how obedient you were with her

She’s easy on the eyes, and who are you to argue with a pretty woman

She never chastised you for your antics or behavior, but rather rewarded it

“So good Y/N!”, ruffling your hair, squishing your face while cooing all this praise

It felt….nice

So it made you feel terrible whenever it got taken away

Ashley was easy to upset, you learned that

You’d precariously tiptoe the line, and eagerly await the affection when she recovered and liked you again

You wished you never made her upset…

The air felt thick with tension, Ashley’s back turned to you as she looked out the window. It was just the two of you in the backseat of the hitman’s van, Andrew having stopped on the side of the road for a bathroom break. You didn’t know what you did wrong- but it must’ve been something to make her upset with you.

You tentatively reached out a hand, debating whether or not to grab hers. Before you could make the decision, she pulled it away without looking. A small whine arose from the back of your throat, like a hurt dog.

You wish you were a dog sometimes.

A dumb dog who couldn’t mess things up, maybe then she’d love you again.

“Ashley…” your tongue felt heavy in your mouth.

“What?” Her voice felt like a knife stabbing at your heart.

“I’m…I’m sorry…” you lowered your hand.

Ashley’s body made the slightest movement, “For?”

You tensed. Genuinely, you didn’t know what you did, but it must’ve been something. You gulped, looking down at the floor of the car, “For….” You grimaced as you couldn’t think of anything.

Ashley sighed, turning to face you. Her pink eyes stared into your own, you shrank a little at her glare, “Genuinely- you don’t know what you did?”

You shook your head, unable to stop the tears forming in the corners of your eyes. Ashley sighed, apparently seeing you on the verge of crying was enough for her to open her arms to you. Without hesitation, you threw yourself into her arms- face burying itself into the crook of her neck as you sniffled. You felt her hand tangle itself into your hair, almost petting you.

“There there…” she shushed, “You’re forgiven.”

It felt like a weight was lifted from your shoulders as she said those words, you held on to her tighter- not wanting to let go. Not wanting to lose the one person who didn’t make you feel stupid or like a burden or annoying or- any of those things.

Ashley made you feel warm. Ashley made you feel good. Ashley is good.

And you want nothing more than to be good for her..

[anonymousewrites]

One Hell of a Love (Book 1) Chapter Seven

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon! Reader

Chapter Seven: One Hell of a Reaper

Summary: (Y/N) and Sebastian fight a Reaper.

            Grell slashed at (Y/N) and Sebastian wildly as they dodged and flipped around to avoid her attack. “Two demons and a reaper!” said Grell gleefully. “Ah, I wonder if it really is impossible for us to understand each other.” She leapt into the air after (Y/N) as they dodged onto the roofs. “What a Shakespearian tragedy! Two loves that cannot be! Ah, (Nickname)! Wherefore art thou (Nickname) and Bassy?!” She pushed off and wall and drew close to (Y/N).

            Sebastian jumped into the air and kicked between Grell and (Y/N) to force Grell to flip to another roof and move away from (Y/N). The two demons regarded her carefully as she continued her laments and flirtations.

            “If you were to throw away the name given by your masters and only look at me…perhaps we could be meant to be!” cried Grell dramatically.

            “You’re too loud. Like a puppy dog,” said (Y/N). They narrowed their eyes. “I don’t like dogs.”

            Sebastian smirked at their words as Grell gasped in offense. She deserved it for being such a nuisance. “I will say just one thing. From the moment my master named me Sebastian, I was baptized in the contract, and from that day forth, I truly became Sebastian, as I vowed by the moon.”

            (Y/N) had to admit they understood why Grell was so fascinated with Sebastian. With such poetry, such power, and such an appearance in the moonlight, Sebastian was the epitome of the demonic beauty that tempted so many humans.

            “A vow that sways as the moon waxes and wanes?” scoffed Grell. “You are quite the inconsistent man.” She smirked. “Your eyes are filled with impurity that loves absolutely nothing. You are a demon that befouls pure souls with your hands and lips.”

            (Y/N)’s eyes flicked to Sebastian, and his eyes gleamed fuchsia. Neither demon felt bad about any of the acts they had committed over the centuries.

            “Ah, how splendid you both are! I can’t decide, I must have both!” cried Grell, blushing. “Hold me in your arms and kiss me until I lose my mind!”

            “Please stop. That is disgusting,” said Sebastian, shivering.

            “I think she already has lost her mind,” said (Y/N).

            “How cruel to reject my love!” cried Grell. Her chainsaw revved to life. “Beautiful tyrant!” she cried to Sebastian as she swung at him. Whirling on (Y/N), she forced them to dodge as she praised them, “Angelic demon!” Sebastian grabbed Grell’s wrist to keep her from moving. “Raven with heart-shaped wings!” (Y/N) stamped down on the Death Scythe to jam it into the ground. “A ferocious kitten!” She sighed dramatically as the demons held her back. “Ah, if only morning would never come, we would be able to continue our love like this forever! But our adventure must end here,” she cooed. “Let us part with a kiss!” Grell slammed her forehead against Sebastian’s, and he jerked back. “A thousand farewells!” She swung her chainsaw down on (Y/N) and sliced through their front. “Now, allow me to see your devilishly dramatic record!”

            Blood flew through the air as (Y/N) stumbled back and scraps of their Cinematic Record spiraled into the air. They gripped their chest as they watched pieces of their memories be exposed.

            Sebastian and Grell watched a roll of film fly by, dark with a hand stretching up towards the sun and people’s faces obscured by a watery prison. Another glowed with flames as angry mortals screamed and shouted.

            But those scraps flew by in flash, merely seconds in the full extent of (Y/N)’s life. The rest of the memories Grell managed to grab were just…the four troublesome servants causing issues at the mansion.

            (Y/N) narrowed their eyes as they watched Grell cry out at not getting anything more interesting. They panted as they held their chest, angry at Grell trying to get to their memories like that. Those were personal.

            Sebastian’s eyes became slits beside (Y/N). He glanced at them, his blood boiled, and his eyes flashed fuchsia. Grell had to go.

            “Just what the hell is this?!” cried Grell as she watched the other servants of the household run around like hooligans.

            “Their recent time here on Earth has been filled without nothing but that,” said Sebastian, smirking.

            “I have no interest in such domestic flashbacks!” said Grell, pouting. “I saw something good! I want it back!”

            “Grell.” (Y/N) smiled with their eyes closed, but it was chilling. “If you try to pry again, I’ll tear you to pieces in a firsthand experience of what I’ve done to people in my time as a demon.”

            Grell shivered. “Oh, now that really gets me going!” She jumped at (Y/N), but Sebastian kicked her back decisively.

            “Ah, (Y/N), your dress is ruined,” said Sebastian. He sighed as he pulled their coat from overtop their dress. (Y/N) raised an eyebrow but allowed him to take it. “It was not my wish to employ this sort of tactic, but I have no choice.”

            “You’re finally going to be serious with me, then?” cooed Grell. “Let’s put an end to this with the next blow! Farewell to this world! Let us be bonded to each other in the next, darlings!”

            She leapt at the demons, and Sebastian threw up (Y/N)’s coat and jammed it into the Death Scythe. Grell stared in surprise as the blades stopped turning.

            “Hey!” she cried, trying to pull the fabric out.

            “That jacket is made from the finest Yorkshire wool. You will find that there’s a lot of friction in wool production,” said Sebastian. “Once it is woven, it is quite hard to tear apart. I didn’t want to use it, but you had already ruined it.” He smirked and stood over Grell with (Y/N). “Well then, I have a bit of confidence in plain fistfights.”

            “Absolutely,” said (Y/N), smirking darkly at Sebastian.

            “W-Wait a minute!” said Grell. “Please, not the face!”

            Sebastian kicked Grell in the face and sent her flying off the roof and falling to the ground below. (Y/N) attacked in the air, punching her so she hit the ground hard. The demons landed beside Ciel as he glanced at the reaper lying in a heap before looking at them.

            “You’re in quite the state,” said Ciel, glancing at Sebastian’s torn shoulder and (Y/N)’s bloody front.

            “We had a little resistance,” said (Y/N) distastefully.

            “Hey!” cried Grell.

            Sebsatian’s eyes slid to Grell. “My, that’s a reaper for you. I suppose you would not die from blows alone.”

            “But Sebastian, she was so kind and brought along her own weapon,” said (Y/N), smirking playfully.

            “You’re right, she did,” said Sebastian, smirking and picking up the Death Scythe. “And a reaper’s scythe can cut through anything, which means it should be able to cut through you, right?”

            “Wh-what?” stammered Grell from the ground. “W-wait a moment!”

            Sebastian stamped down on Grell. “It is quite unpleasant to be stepped upon. Doing the stepping, however, feels good.”

            “It hurts!” cried Grell dramatically.

            “I hope so,” chirped (Y/N).

            “Young Master, even though this hideous reprobate is a reaper, a god of death, are you prepared to accept the consequences of killing her?” questioned Sebastian.

            “Are you trying to make me give the same order twice?” snapped Ciel.

            “Understood,” said Sebastian. He pulled the wool coat from the Death Scythe, and it roared to life.

            “W-wait!” cried Grell.

            “My, you do have an attractive screaming voice,” said Sebastian slyly. He raised the chainsaw above his head. “Let me reward you.” He was going to be immensely satisfied by ending Grell’s life, for more reasons than just being ordered by Ciel. “I will let you depart via this beloved toy of yours!” He looked at (Y/N). “Ready?”

            “Absolutely,” said (Y/N).

            Sebastian smirked. “Perfect.” He swung the chainsaw down.

            A metallic object stretched out from above and blocked the attack before it reached Grell. Sebastian and (Y/N)’s eyes snapped up to see another man standing over them. He wore a suit and spectacles and had the same fluorescent eyes as Grell. It was another reaper.

            “Forgive me for interrupting you mid-conversation,” said the reaper formally. “I am one of the supervisors of the Reaper Dispatch Organization. William T. Spears. I have come to take that reaper back.”

            “Will! William!” cried Grell gratefully. “You came to save m—!” Her head was slammed into the ground as William landed basically on top of her.

            “Dispatcher Grell Sutcliffe, you have committed several regulations violations,” reported William. “First, the elimination of those not on the To Die list. Next, the use of a non-sanctioned Death Scythe. And finally, the disclosure of information pertaining to the lives and circumstances of death of the aforementioned departed.” He bowed to (Y/N) and Sebastian. “I apologize profusely for any inconvenience caused by this.” Sebastian and (Y/N) were not impressed, nor were they moved by William extended a business card to them. “Here is my business card.” William raised an eyebrow distastefully. “Honestly. Having to bow my head to vermin like you really does smear mud across the reaper name.”

            (Y/N) scoffed, and Sebastian replied, “Well, in order for you not to cause the ‘vermin’ further inconvenience, please keep a close watch. Humans are vulnerable to temptation. When they are forced to stand on the hellish precipice of despair, they will unfailingly take any route out of it that appears to them, no matter what kind of web it tangles them in, no matter what kind of person they are.”

            “The ones who take advantage of that and taunt humans are you demons, no?” said William stiffly.

            “Neither of us deny it,” said (Y/N), smiling pleasantly.

            William glanced at Sebastian and then at Ciel, knowing they were contracted. “I suppose that those dogs kept leashed as pets are better than the mad dogs that roam around with no principles.” His eyes moved to (Y/N). “The ones who can go about as they please are troublesome strays.”

            (Y/N)’s eyes flashed fuchsia, and they smiled. “I’m no dog.”

            William tsked before looking down at Grell. “Well, then, we shall return, Grell Sutcliffe.” He grabbed her hair and began dragging her behind him. “My goodness, at a time when we’re already short-handed, once again, I won’t get to leave today. Of course, the director will scold us anyway…If I keep having to do overtime like this—”

            Sebastian threw Grell’s Death Scythe at William. The reaper caught it between two fingers.

            “You forgot that,” said Sebastian with a “pleasant” smile.

            “Thank you,” said William with cold civility, letting the Death Scythe lay on Grell’s stomach carelessly. He adjusted his glasses. “Well, then, excuse us.” William pulled Grell after him, and they disappeared into the night.

            (Y/N) put their hands on their hips. They were disappointed at not getting to finish Grell off, especially for having nearly exposed their private memories, but at least the reaper was gone. Their hand traced over their chest, but although blood stained the clothes, the skin beneath was already healing due to their demonic nature.

            Sebastian glanced at (Y/N) and then at their wound. Satisfied that they were recovering well, he turned to Ciel, who sat beside Madame Red’s body. “I must apologize. I let the other half of Jack the Ripper escape,” he said.

            “It’s fine. It’s over,” said Ciel dully. Sebastian stepped over to guide Ciel to his feet, but he slapped Sebastian’s hand away. “I can stand on my own.”

l

            “So, the funeral arrangements went to plan?” remarked (Y/N), pulling a red rose petal from the shoulder of Sebastian’s jacket. They had known Ciel planned to give Madame Red a true departure in red as she would have wanted.

            “Yes,” said Sebastian. “The Young Master created quite the impression.”

            “Just as the Madame would have wanted,” said (Y/N). They turned and went back to folding clothes (better to keep Mey-Rin away from this since she had somehow managed to tear several pieces of clothing last time).

            “I will never understand the need for humans to have such a ceremony surrounding death. They spend their short lives fearing it and yet obsess over it at the same time,” said Sebastian in amusement.

            (Y/N) paused in their work. “Death is the one thing they cannot avoid. They cannot beat it once it comes for them. And as we have seen over the centuries, all it takes is a moment for death to arrive, and then they have to face the unknown.”

            Sebastian cocked his head. “Do you speak from observation or experience?” He gazed at (Y/N) as they slowly put the shirt they were folding down.

            (Y/N)’s eyes were fuchsia as they met his gaze. “My…mortal life was long ago. I faced death and came out of it stronger.”

            Sebastian smiled. “Yes, you did.” He remembered the same look in their eyes the first time he had ever seen them, the same weight of knowing a human life before becoming a demon. And he found it as fascinating now as he had then.

            (Y/N) blinked as they saw a strange look in his eyes. The fuchsia left their eyes as they relaxed. Sebastian wasn’t disrespecting them for having been human, nor was he prying. (Y/N) respected his slight, very slight, honor.

            “I speak from experience,” said (Y/N), simply, answering his original question. “As a demon I know that once I die there is nothing else for me. As a human, I didn’t know what awaited me, not really. That is why mortals have such a fascination with death despite their fear.”

            Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “And those two older memories that appeared. Were those your death and experience after?”

            (Y/N) was silent. Sebastian had never asked about their human death. They had never spoken about it. “They are what led to my death.”

            “Do you feel shame about your human life?” questioned Sebastian suddenly.

            “Excuse me?” (Y/N)’s eyes flashed. “I died and came back a demon. I’ve lived for centuries bringing justice and power to those who are preyed upon by other humans. What do I have to be ashamed of?”

            Sebastian chuckled as (Y/N) spoke before he opened his eyes. His eyes were glowing in the evening’s creeping darkness. He reached up, and his hand brushed over their skin. “Nothing. No demon like you should be ashamed of anything.” He smirked. “I chose to teach you for a reason.”

            “Because I had already died?” remarked (Y/N), eyes darting to Sebastian’s hand. They should be worried about his touch, uncomfortable as usual, but they weren’t. They stood calmly before Sebastian.

            “Because you had strength already,” said Sebastian.

            (Y/N) raised an eyebrow and was about to ask what that meant, but Sebastian smiled and stepped back. “Continue with your work. We shall have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow.” And with that, he left (Y/N) alone.

            (Y/N) gripped the shirt in their hand tightly before letting it fall to the table they were working at. What was that? (Y/N) sighed and ran a hand through their hair. They were a damn demon. They shouldn’t be at all offput with someone being that close. They’ve literally seduced dozens of people. But for some reason, Sebastian made them actually have a reaction.

            Pushing aside the feelings wasn’t working. (Y/N) couldn’t escape the thoughts. They were attracted to Sebastian. They liked him far more than a demon should like anyone. They liked the one demon who respected them but was also so skilled as a demon that he didn’t get attached to anyone.

            Damn.

l

            Sebastian quietly watched the stray cats hanging around the mansion eat the scraps of food he had given them. Ordinarily, he’d be cuddling and cooing over the cats by now, but his mind was otherwise engaged. As much as Sebastian attempted to ignore it, the picture of (Y/N)’s blood spilling flitted through his mind continuously.

            (Y/N) had come closer to death than he had ever seen them.

            And Sebastian hated it. He hated it because he was attached and he didn’t want to let them go. Sebastian narrowed his eyes. (Y/N) may have seemed unconcerned due to having already died before—which also made Sebastian angry since if drowning or flames were part of their death that was suffering he wished to impose on whoever had caused it—but Sebastian hat despised the situation. He wanted to keep them close. He shouldn’t want the bond, but he did.

            Sebastian straightened. He was attracted to (Y/N). He was attracted to the strange, human-born demon that respected him and earned his own respect and honor.

            And now he had admitted it.

Taglist:

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@izzieg3987

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@alexpangender

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[sugar-grigri]

analyze the ball kicking scene 🫶🏼 (out of joke, love your posts <3)

Yes, even kicking balls has symbolism in Chainsaw Man

You're joking, Anon, but I wanted to do a post about it yesterday, and now you've given me the opportunity. Everything in this chapter is about the symbolism of kicking balls, yes, even the beginning!

Haruka Iseumi flicks through several TV channels, rather blasély, until he comes across a woman whose speech seems to resonate with him, a woman who seems to feel betrayed, disoriented like these teenagers who have been put in danger by an institution that has never seen their good, the church. But this girl only talks about her disappointment following a scandal surrounding over-mediatized stars.

What Haruka is going through right now is disillusionment, believing that his problems would have been taken seriously, his situation as an escaped high school terrorist, would have interested the public. But people prefer not to face up to these kinds of problems; an epidemic of people turned into demons is as commonplace as wars. To avoid jeopardizing personal comfort, people prefer to focus on other problems. Because people literally don't have the balls to face reality.

But contrary to what Haruka thinks, he's not so different: he's also an angst-ridden child who had totally surrendered to his idol, Chainsaw Man, to the point of convincing himself that he was bound to him, even pretending to be him for a semblance of trust. What the chapter seems to show is that Haruka is more down to earth than that girl on TV, but what it really shows is that he's exactly like that girl, but no longer admits it to himself.

No, Haruka, you're not dreaming, or rather you have been until now and now you can't do it anymore.

Because you've reached his idol, you have literally reassembled his image, you've seen the boy you have no interest in behind that reassuring mask.

What this chapter is about is the illusion into which we accept to insert ourselves in order to better resist our fears and existential ills.

Denji doesn't have to exist to shatter the illusions he needs to survive; even his awakening and his speech are too much, as his image no longer matches the one he wears as a universal puppet. He's literally cuter when he's inanimate, because that's what he's made for. At least, that's the only way we accept him. He's made to fill your person, and it's impossible for Chainsaw Man to be a person in his own right.

As proof of this, when Denji wakes up, his first reflex is not to discover that he's complete again, for he exists only to fill others, hence his question to Asa as to where her arm has gone. Unknowingly, Denji has accepted his role.

For Katana Man and Yoru, Chainsaw Man is a goal, a dream to be achieved. Seeing the person behind it, the other half, disturbs them. Considering it might even make them reconsider their choices.

Katana Man has deluded himself into believing that Denji no longer has the heart of a man, that he was his grandfather's tormentor and not the child who was the victim. He needs this revenge to move forward, just as Yoru, as a war demon, needs to fight an unattainable adversary to continue wreaking havoc.

But what's that got to do with it? What does this have to do with beating Denji's balls off?

Who kicked Katana Man in the balls? Aki and Denji. If Chainsaw Man is the metaphor for the comforting illusion of others, Aki is the symbol that revenge (often impossible) is a long-term, survival goal for hearts scarred by resentment. Beating the balls off? The meeting of the two.

When Aki and Denji beat up Katana Man, the illusion of a proud, virile, traditional man who swore by his honor had been shattered. What Katana Man represented to himself and to the readers, this formidable adversary, had been dismantled.

But above all, this was a gentle, more accessible form of revenge, one that would allow us to survive, a way for Aki to avenge Himeno in her own way, without actually avenging her. It's about beating your opponent while admitting you've lost in some way.

Similarly, when Katana Man and Yoru defeat Denji, they lead to a renewed desire to dismantle Chainsaw Man's image. To bring it together as their long-term goal of revenge. But despite this balance of power, this gesture symbolically demonstrates that they are not certain of their victory.

Above all, the important answer in this chapter is once again in the background.

Fami continues to eat undisturbed. She eats all the time, but in this chapter, she seemed almost to be regaining her strength.

Why was that?

Her plan was clear, to make people fear Chainsaw Man as well as the war, to make Yoru and Chainsaw Man champions. But what about the media? They prefer to do what's most profitable, keeping viewers entertained for as long as possible, so that they forget about the real issues.

People prefer to delude themselves, to dream dreams, rather than focus on reality, so will Chainsaw Man and Yoru have their strength increased to the point where they'll be potential opponents for death?

because people are already escaping the fear of death through entertainment, which is even the best champion.

Instead of thinking about our existential crises, we flood our brains with unimportant information.

As the philosopher Pascal would say: "Since men have not been able to cure death, misery and ignorance, they have decided, in order to make themselves happy, not to think about them. Notwithstanding these miseries, he wants to be happy, and only wants to be happy, and cannot not want to be happy".

But let's close this loop of questions: if Chainsaw Man allows this comforting disillusionment, Denji is the opposite, something we refuse to see, if Chainsaw Man is a dream, Denji is reality. Let's get back to our main subject: beating up balls.

When Aki first beat Denji up, he wanted to disgust him enough to prevent him from signing up as a public hunter. Literally, he preferred to spare Denji from reality, by killing the symbol that is Denji (did you miss the headaches I caused?). But when Denji retaliates, to insist that he wants to enlist, it's the other way around: it's the harshness of reality that Denji fully accepts that will prevail over Aki's attempt to protect him.

When Katana Man and Yoru beat Denji's balls off, in reality they're trying to fight the reality of what Chainsaw Man is, this mixture between a boy, reality, and the bloodthirsty enemy, the dream, Chainsaw Man. Beating up Denji is an attempt to avoid the harshness of life. It's that illusion.

So when Denji helped Aki beat up Katana Man, he allowed him to escape his survival mechanisms, his revenge, his illusion, by enjoying the present moment, pure reality. But when Denji defeated Aki, it was also the announcement of the reality of Aki's fate, which would outweigh this illusion - the success of his revenge.

That's why Pochita, the dream and illusion, prevents Denji from opening the door. When Denji sees reality, he can't help opening it. Just as Makima concentrated on her Chainsaw Man dream without seeing reality, Denji right behind it. Just as the dream allows Denji to escape reality, the contract between Denji and Pochita has allowed Denji to become someone else, escaping from himself, himself a victim of the dream without being able to know exactly what he is.

But don't forget, beating the balls off is Denji's tactic.

Why is that? Because no matter how hard you try to escape it, reality will always prevail.

[ravennaortiz]

Halloween SOA Day 12: Pumpkin Carving

Summary: Chibs has the club help his old lady out. Mostly fluff.

“Hey Gemma” you called as you floated past her on your way to the clubhouse. “Hey sweetheart. Glad you’re finally here so the boys will settle down. All I’ve heard about today is this pumpkin carving contest” she replied laughing as she moved into the office of Teller-Morrow. You shook your head and chuckled. You were honestly just glad that the tough bikers had agreed to carve the hundreds of pumpkins needed for the children’s hospital that you didn’t even care they had made it into a competition. As you pushed the door open you were hit with a pungent aroma of pumpkin, beer and cigarettes. The sight inside though stopped you in your tracks like a deer in headlights.

It looked like a massacre. Pumpkin guts and seeds clung to every surface. The men were also covered in them and blood as they all looked to you with huge grins. “Careful Lass, floor be slick” called your old man as you stepped carefully over the piles of orange goop, using the toe of your black high heeled boots too nudge broken knifes and glass to the side. “Oh, guys” you finally spoke as you started to laugh at the scene around you. “Thank you. This is way beyond what I imagined” you continued before reaching Chibs side and kissing him quickly. ”Anything for you love” replied Chibs as he smiled down at you. “I want to go on the record that some people cheated” called Juice from his table with a pout before shooting a glare at Happy who stood expressionless with a chainsaw. “Best get to making your decision before another brawl breaks out” whispered Chibs into your ear. “Another” you replied as you looked at him. Well that explained the blood and bruises, pumpkin carving was supposed to be peaceful you thought as you shook your head and started walking around. You had to admit you were impressed with their work, of course some were to obscene and would have to stay here but the details were immaculate.

“Alright gentlemen” you started after a few minutes before Tig cut you off. “You can’t choose Chibs because you’re sleeping together” called Tig before Jax slapped him in the back of the head. “She will be fair, but darling if it gets us extra points I just put fresh sheets on this morning: joked Jax as he winked and sent you a devilish smirk. “Laddie” warned Chibs roughly as you shook your head and laughed. “Hush, all of you. The winner is the prospect. He really captured the essence of all of you in his little pumpkin family” you stated as you smiled sweetly at him as he jumped into the air. “What did I win?” he asked as his gaze lingered on you a little too long for Chibs liking. “The privilege of loading them up in the truck and taking them to the hospital as well as cleaning this place up” stated Chibs

As the guys started cleaning up Chibs grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the dorms. “Care to join me in my room? I think I might be able to find another pumpkin to carve in their” whispered Chibs in your ear as he winked at you.

[rayslittlekitten]

Spooky Time

“You Got This” Masterlist

A/N: I think writing "My First Night" kicked up some old feels for this universe. Here is a wholesome little nugget of them much younger. Jax and Opie as 14 and reader is 12.

Rating: T

Word Count: 806

Pairing: Teenager!Jax Teller & Preteen GN! Reader/OC; Teenager!Opie Winston & Preteen GN! Reader/OC (reader is F in the series, but this particular fic can be read as GN)

Plot: While Opie taunts you for being scared, Jax protects you.

Contains: sibling banter, cursing, protective!Jax, spoopy stuff

You stare up at the man-made haunted house towering in front of you. The fog, flashing lights and sounds of terror coming from a big speaker has you rethinking about tagging along with your brother and Jax. Since you were little, you've always followed them around and wanted to do everything they did. This is no exception. Every year during this time, you would all come to the County Halloween fair where they would have hayrides and all sorts of spooky activities. You always went on the kiddie rides, corn mazes, and have seemingly mild fun, but since Jax and Opie just started high school, they want to do older kids stuff, including the haunted house. This was one thing you always avoided, but you were sure you wanted to do this because Jax and Opie does.

"Come on, what are you waiting for?" Jax nudges you.

"I... I don't really feel too good. I think I ate too much funnel cake. I'll just wait for you guys," you reply.

"UGH! You know we can't leave you by yourself. You said you wanted to tag along so you have to do everything we're doing," your brother jumps in, annoyed.

A scream from inside the house spooks you, making you jump.

"Aww, are you scared?" Jax teases.

"N-no," you lie.

Opie rolls his eyes and huffs.

"Come on, it won't be that scary. I'll protect you, squirt."

Jax puts his arm around your shoulders and pulls you in closer, giving the top of your head a little tousle before guiding you inside the haunted house and following Opie who is leading the group. Once you enter, you cautiously walk through the loud and dark maze. Opie suddenly jumps and screams, making you shriek and grasp onto Jax, but then your brother starts laughing.

"Haha! Spooked ya!" He says, pointing at you.

"It's not funny!" You throw a weak punch at his arm.

"Then why am I laughing?" he taunts.

"Alright, come on, keep it moving," Jax jumps in to break up the sibling squabble, pushing Opie along.

"Stay close behind me, alright?" Jax tells you, guiding you behind him.

You grab onto the back of his shirt as you all continue to walk through. Your eyes dart around while being super vigilant and alert, also looking ahead at your brother in front to see if anything might scare him. The creepy music and inability to see things well in front of you add to the fright. A random hiss from behind you makes you curl up against Jax's back even more. You feel Jax's hand reach back, touching your hip like he's feeling around for something. He then turns to look over his shoulder.

"Hold my hand."

You look down and slip your hand into his while the other still fists his shirt. When Jax turns a corner, he takes a sudden small step back, stumbling into you, as his free arm guides you to remain behind him and now stepping sideways.

"Stay behind me," he instructs you.

You continue to follow him while using him as a shield. The sound of a chainsaw next to you makes you shift in the opposite direction. You feel Jax's hand squeezing yours to let you know you're safe. This feels like a never-ending maze. You start to notice a scent that comforts you. Leaning into Jax's shirt, you stick your nose into it and take a sniff. You don't know if it's the laundry detergent Gemma uses or something else, but it's distracting you from all the terror. After a few more turns and focusing your attention on Jax's scent, you finally make it out of the haunted house unscathed.

"Was that it? See, it wasn't so bad, was it? There wasn't anything really-- AHH!"

Opie gets frightened by a clown seemingly popping out of nowhere and his immediate reaction is to punch it.

"Is... is he dead?" you ask, peeking out from behind Jax with wide eyes, after seeing the clown face down on the dirt unmoved.

Opie gives it a gentle nudge with his booted toe.

"It's a fucking doll," Opie replies, then gives it a swift kick. "Fuck you."

"Looks like you're the one who only got spooked," you laugh.

Opie fakes a lounge at you and you jump back hiding behind Jax, shrieking. Jax instinctively steps between you and Opie, reaching his arms back again to protect you.

"Alright, let's go do the Terror Drop next." Jax suggests the ride where you get dropped from a great height.

"Um, I'm afraid of heights," you tell him.

"We'll do this together. You can hold my hand again," Jax says. "I promise you're gonna love it."

"Last one there is a rotten egg!" Opie says as he dashes off.

You and Jax then start chasing after Opie.