#my body already thinks it’s dying every time I do something even remotely close to stressful

[sittinginsunflowers]

The absolutely real way my heart dropped when Brennan brought out those fucking scantron ass test questions and a timer is proof you never outrun high school and if one of them doesn’t curse him out for this truly cruel (and genius) premise next episode I will be shocked

[anniiecrsta]

♬ billy dunne hcs 𖾞 ⁺ 𓈒 ❝ tell me something good, tell me that you love me . ❞

:: billy likes his coffee with cream in it. like a lot of it, to the point where the top is completely white: he keeps a whole packet of those disgusting pre-made coffee creams in his cabinet like its a secret stash of gold. in theory it’s a cappuccino, but if anybody actually calls it that he will actually start freaking out and taking it as a very personal offense. :: he HATES having to use the tv controls, like the buttons straight on the machine instead of just using the remote and he’d just rather not watch the tv if he has to get up every five seconds just to change the channel— on that note, he’s a channel hopper. he can never finish a program in full unless it’s a documentary. :: even if he's not really a movie person, like i said literally only watching documentaries, his favorite movie is a star is born. he always end up crying but only cries in the scenes where he doesn't have to: they could be singing the sweetest song and he's already be sobbing just thinking about the ending. if he's in public, he doesn't even stare at the movie-- it embarasses him. :: billy doesn't wear deodorant. ever, and he never has: the last time he even touched a bar of deodorant was when he was 12 at his gym class in middle school, but as soon as that whole experience was over he never touched it again. he always smells like sweat, garage, cigarettes and pine leaves from his car perfume. of course he uses car perfume in his bus-- if it isn't as clean as can be, it makes him terribly stressed. or at least he'd like it to be clean: he never remebers too and leaves everything on the floor, so he just ends up wound up all day. :: his favorite brand of beer was the buckle dark ale (strong dark ale) when he wasn't sober. he always loved it because in just about 2 glasses of it he was always out like a light and thats a really useful quality if you're someone who's trying to drink the life out of his own body-- not that he actively wanted to die, but at the same time the thought of maybe dying alone on a wooden counter of some bar in the sunset strip, with nothing but a guitar to his name, didn't sound all that bad. ❝ in my mind, when she's not right beside me i go crazy . ❞ :: his favorite season was always autumn: he could still go out and about and do his usual runs, maybe even stopping by the beach with how hot LA is all year round, but at the same time it got dark quick and days lasted less and less everyday. it gave him a bit less time to have to spend with the pain that he felt all day long in his guts. at the same time, billy didn't like days being shorter because it meant even less time to spend with his baby, julia, which seemed to grow quicker everytime he saw her. it scared him. :: loneliness scares him. the thought of being out of control in his own life and being left behind, in not leaving any impact on this world, is what most people think scares him the most, based on how he acts. and he likes it exactly that way: the thought of anybody knowing that his biggest fear is becoming just like the man who ripped his own self worth from him-- his father-- terrifies him, consider he still lives waiting every day for his approval. he lives with the wish to prove that if he had stuck around he could've had a son to be proud of, even if that means lying through his teeth to show everyone that he is exactly who he's supposed to be. and who he's supposed to be, maybe, isn't always the better person. :: when he's alone in his bed, at night, sometimes he likes to close his eyes and think about what his life would be like if he took a completely different choice, even if the choice happened so many years ago that he doesn't even remeber the context in which he took it-- the butterfly effect brings him a sense of comfort, but at the same time he feels that constant, overwhelming dread of knowing everything he does will affect his life when he least expects it.

[rutilation]

See these two?  I’ve been thinking about them.  A lot. So much so, that I’ve started getting ideas about what their deal is, what their roles in the story may turn out to be—that sort of thing.  Maybe the following is pure fanfiction, or maybe I managed to mind meld with Fujimoto after staring into space for long enough.  Time will tell.  But, I warn you now: I did not merely don a tinfoil hat to write this, but an entire Venetian ball gown’s worth of the stuff.  I’ll be attending the conspiracy masquerade dressed to the nines.  I’m gunning for the tinfoil crown.  Click the readmore if you’d like to be my date for the evening.

Before we can attend the soirée in question, there’s a big ‘ol something I need to unpack: I’m one of those people—those wretches who believe that Yoshida is secretly the Death Devil, and what’s more, a whole lot of my thoughts regarding both Yoshida and Famine are predicated on it.  While I only very recently started engaging with this work and its fandom, I’ve nonetheless gotten the distinct impression that this particular theory is something of a sore point for a lot of people—one that had already been argued to the point of exasperation and resentment by the time I got around to ticking Chainsaw Man off my reading list.

To any potential readers of this humble essay who feel that way, I have this to say for myself: while I can’t guarantee you’ll find my reasoning convincing, I can guarantee that my thoughts on the matter are more substantial than pointing at panels of Yoshida in a conspiratorial manner and trying to find the kanji for death, or the numeral ‘4’ amidst crosshatching.  I find that exactly as inane as you do.  With that said, I’m first going to address some common objections I’ve seen to this theory before I get into the real meat of my speculation regarding these two mysterious characters.

The Death Devil embodies a primal fear, and is too strong to be killed.  So whoever they are, they’re still in hell.  Paradoxical as it might seem on the face of it, the Death Devil might have an easier time dying than their fellow primal fears—who’s to say their mastery over death can’t extend to themselves?  If I were to put myself in the shoes of the embodiment of death, I can easily imagine being bored with the entire concept of self-preservation, turning off my regeneration, and letting myself die every now and then in order to bounce through different reincarnations, trying to sooth the crushing ennui of my cursed existence.  And what do you know, Yoshida seems pretty chill with the prospect of his own death. 

Why doesn’t he have the swirly eyes? Despite being a dead giveaway for the four horsemen, no one in the story ever notices or comments on them.  Yoru couldn’t even recognize Famine at a glance,* despite being close enough to clearly see her special anime eyes.  I’m thus inclined to believe that the concentric rings in their eyes exist for the benefit of the audience and are invisible to the characters, or even completely non-diegetic.  And something that is displayed for the audiences’ benefit can be obscured for that very same reason.  Alternatively: his eyes are black with black rings.

Why would the actual Death Devil get bodied by Quanxi? And why would he have to rely on another devil to fight, for that matter?  One: because she’s just that cool.  Two: If he is the Death Devil, presumably the most powerful in existence, it may be the case that it’s actually impossible for him to use his power offensively for anything other than mass, indiscriminate death.  Thus, he would have to rely on other devils or his own physical strength to fight in a remotely constructive way.  All else would be like using a nuke to open a pickle jar.  Another possible explanation is that his life would be upended if his identity were ever revealed, and so he goes to great pains to not let even a hint of it slip. If I’m correct about bullet point one, he would see dying and starting anew as preferable to the inconvenience of living with a constant target on his back, and thus wouldn’t use his own powers even when his life is in danger.

Kishibe, who is a living lie detector, trusts him.  There’s no way Yoshida could hide being a devil from him.  To the contrary, I think Kishibe is in on it, and I’ll get into why I think so once I’m in the meat of my speculation.

Makima would surely be able to smell it if Yoshida were the Death Devil, why would she want him of all people guarding Denji? Calling on your unfathomably powerful brother (who you’re hoping to kill in the near future,) for a sham security detail as part of a passive-aggressive power play is not only in-character, it is downright Makimacore.  I don’t think her primary concern in this situation is necessarily how powerful the hired help is, but whether or not they would have a reason to steal her precious Chainsaw in the first place.  Or, perhaps she simply couldn’t smell him properly for a reason that has yet to be explained.

Devils can’t make contracts with each other, so how could he have Octopus at his beck and call?  Maybe they’re buddies who go way back.  Maybe Octopus doesn’t want to anger the biggest fish in the pond, and serves him out of fear.  It could be anything.  Hey, if you think about it, the number eight is really just two fours.  In various east Asian cultures, the number four represen—

*I am taken out via sniper rifle.*

In the grand tradition of Fujimoto’s iconic female villains, Death, the final boss, ought to be the mommy-est domme of them all, and anything short of that would be an insult to the femme fatales who came before.  Listen, I also love his bad bitches.  No arguments there.  But who says the Death Devil has to be some sort of overarching supervillain in the first place?  I’d honestly find it more interesting if they weren’t.  Thus far in the narrative, death with a lowercase ‘d’ has been presented as something you grapple and come to terms with in order to fully appreciate love and life, and it wouldn’t be especially interesting if the character who embodies that concept were a Final Fantasy super-witch.  In my humble opinion, it’d be more profound if they were just as lost and pathetic as the rest of us.  I’d honestly rather Fujimoto pull a fast one and unveil Kobeni as the Death Devil, as opposed to giving us a scheming Ultimecia-alike for the role, you feel me?

I like Yoshida better as a tragic cog in Public Safety’s system.  Why can’t he be that instead of the Death Devil?  ¿Por qué no los dos?

If Yoshida were the Death Devil, it would ruin my ship.  Come on, don’t succumb to the quitter mindset.  I believe in you.

Now, far be it from me to undermine my precious bullet points after I just went through the trouble of writing them, but I don’t actually think this whole back-and-forth on what would constitute a plot hole is especially productive.  None of it matters.  At the risk of getting a bit abstract, I’m of the belief that a plot hole is something that only exists in retrospect, and as such, they aren’t useful guides for predicting how an ongoing story can or cannot play out. When you’re in the position of storyteller, you can spin things however you desire, and the reasons you come up with to justify your decisions are similarly arbitrary.  It is solely the audience, and not the author, that is relegated to following breadcrumbs and extrapolating based on what came before, a process that only becomes problematic if their fingers can catch on splinters and loose threads in the seams of the plot after the fact. Whoever the Death Devil is—whether they’re someone we’ve already met, or a yet-unintroduced character, their identity won’t be determined by the readership’s painstaking process of elimination, but by Fujimoto thinking “wouldn’t it be neat if [x] happened?” and then honing and molding the idea to make it fit into what was already written.

All this is to say, I’m invested in my interpretation not because of how well it slots in with the other puzzle pieces—all of which are malleable anyways, but because of what I think it could potentially add to the story.  And with that, I think I’ll cool it with the bloated preamble, and start getting into what I believe that potential to be, starting with the moments in the story that convinced me of this theory in the first place.

I’m sure people have harped on this moment before, but I want to reiterate that this, right here is, a truly ludicrous thing to ask on the face of it.  To my knowledge, even the anti-death transhumanist crowd envisions humanity’s ideal relationship to death as one where it is a voluntary option at the end of a very long life, which is a far cry from death itself being retroactively purged from the weave of time, unable to exist anywhere in any capacity. And the latter is exactly what it would mean for Pochita to eat the Death Devil.  It would create a universe inimical to any form of life aside from cancer cells, and anyone who’s given the matter more than two seconds of thought could understand that.  I can see why Makima would try it—she was so high on her own hubris that I wouldn’t expect her to objectively consider the viability of her whims—but why would Yoshida, who, by all accounts, is not lost in the sauce, want this?

For such an extreme desire, there has to be an equally extreme motivation. And I haven’t come across an explanation—or managed to think of one myself, for that matter—that satisfies those bizarre parameters other than Yoshida himself being the Death Devil.  The fact that he’s thoroughly unbothered by the thought of his impending demise one moment, and wistfully wishing the concept of death itself would disappear the next, feels like a smoking gun to me.  The best I can come up with is that he, like a certain other devil who deals in death, is sick of the burden that comes with his existential condition, of being constantly inundated with the grief and fear of the dying and the bereaved—and that it’s gotten to the point where he wants to be put out of his misery for good, consequences be damned.

The second scene that pushed me into the arms of this theory was the café scene in chapter 122.  I know a lot of people took this chapter as proof that Yoshida couldn’t possibly be the Death Devil, but for me, it was quite the opposite.  Something about his interaction with Famine here felt off to me, as if the reader is not privy to the full context of the conversation. Why does Yoshida feel comfortable approaching and threatening one of the four horsemen without leverage or backup? Why did she acquiesce to his threats regardless, all while seeming completely unafraid of them?  Why did Famine take him up on the invitation in the first place, something even he found strange?  What’s with all the terse, silent glances between both parties?

It’s fishy, quite fishy.  I actually have a lot to say about this scene, but I can’t get into my interpretation of it in any depth until I delve into my thoughts on Famine.  So, we’ll just have to put a pin in it for later.  For now, though, I’ll say that many of those niggling logistical questions go away if you assume that the answer is: ‘he’s a more powerful devil than her, and what’s more, there’s shared history between the two.’

So, because of those two scenes, I couldn’t help but consider Yoshida as the Death Devil to be a strong possibility.  But, beyond that, I also think it makes sense as a matter of narrative efficiency.  It seems to me that, among other things, Part 2 is going to be about the horsemen—who and what they really are, what their deal is, etc.  If I’m right in that assumption, then one would want to start getting all their ducks in a row early, especially if that someone is a design-by-subtraction enthusiast like Fujimoto.  So, the idea that we’ve already met the Death Devil, and have been given a little bit of context as to what drives their character, makes sense to me.

But, who am I trying to kid, pontificating the finer points of structure, and expectation, and all that jazz.  I’m wearing this tinfoil crown, so I ought to live up to it.  We have a ball to attend.  Wild speculation, ahoy!

Let’s imagine the sequence of event goes something like this: Pochita has his grand climactic battle with the four horsemen and weapon devils, vanishes from hell, and finds a young Denji, who seems to be about six or seven years old, shortly thereafter—he was freshly wounded in the flashback, after all.  If that incarnation of the Death Devil died during the fight (probably for shits and grins—see my first bullet point,) then his present incarnation could conceivably be around Yoshida’s age now, accounting for the fact that devils seem to skip infancy and are born as children. It may also be the case that rate at which devils mature is variable depending on the environment they grow up in; a devil being raised by a human would have the luxury of indulging an extended childhood, while one who’s basically a critter in the wilderness couldn’t afford to do so.  

Anyway, I believe Yoshida belongs to the former category, which brings me back to my assertion that Kishibe is “in on it.”  Like many, I too get the vibe that there’s some sort of father-son relationship between the two (a somewhat strained one, to be exact, but I’ll get into that in just a moment.)  What if the reason Kishibe thought it would be a sound idea to have Denji raise the new Control Devil was because he had already done the same thing with the Death Devil years earlier?  Perhaps he happened upon a young Yoshida, and, already weary from the deaths of his comrades in this endless meat grinder of a conflict, decided that killing him would be a futile act of kicking the can down the road, choosing instead to raise him as his son in the hope that the most powerful devil would grow up to become something other than a monster.

If all that is true, it adds a layer of tension to Kishibe and Yoshida’s relationship that might explain some of the latter’s aloof attitude, along with his stated aversion to emotional vulnerability.  Any affection he might feel toward his father figure is tempered by the knowledge that whatever love and care he was shown in this lifetime was given with the express intent of neutralizing his potential as a threat.  Even if this were a misconception, I could definitely see Kishibe being too emotionally constipated to properly correct it.  And so, Yoshida never pressed the matter, and never crossed a line.  In essence, he kept things parasocial.  Because, without the veil of plausible deniability, he might actually find out for sure what his relationship with Kishibe amounts to, and if the answer is one he doesn’t like, it might just crush him.  And so, like Asa, he leads a lonely life of being symbolically boxed in by his own speech bubbles.

This is a tangent, but while people often point to Kishibe and Yoshida’s conversation in chapter 67, along with the former taking Quanxi’s fiends hostage to save the latter’s life, as implicit proof of their relationship, there’s one other instance in the story that also gave me that vibe.  That implicit vibe.  It’s Kishibe’s comment that Denji is most fit for the role devil hunter out of anyone he’s met.  Given what we know of Kishibe’s philosophy, Yoshida would, as far as I can tell, more perfectly fit his definition of an ideal devil hunter.  He’s much more emotionally detached than Denji, he can go almost toe-to-toe with Quanxi—Denji’s not even close in that regard, and while he isn’t quite as galaxy-brained, he can still unnerve and outwit most opponents he comes across.  So, why Denji and not him?  Perhaps it’s because, in his heart of hearts, Kishibe doesn’t actually want his own kid in this line of work, even if he is God’s perfect little killer.

So, if Yoshida is, essentially, a domesticated primal devil, it would also give him a more personal stake in this prophecy business. The King of Terror mentioned in the prophecy could be reasonably interpreted as—if not Chainsaw man—then the Death Devil.  And if the devil in question is some moody teenager who wants nothing to do with the apocalypse, who’s spent his life trying to not be an existential threat, who may have even developed an entire complex about it, he’d have a strong incentive to directly involve himself in stopping the prophecy from coming to pass.

This is all a bit heavy, so I’m going to slip on my tinfoil party hat for a minute.  In addition to the Sturm und Drang, I believe there is quite a bit of comedic potential that could be mined from Yoshida being the Death Devil.  For one thing, it would be pretty amusing if our leads for Part 2 comprised a literal three-ring circus of portentous secret identities.  And beyond just that, it would also add a wicked and belated punchline to Asa and Yoshida’s farce of a first meeting—the one where Yoru brazenly hits on him, all while taking Asa’s humiliation smugly in stride.  But, if Yoru were to learn later on that she was, in fact, propositioning her own brother, then just imagine her reaction.  Comedic gold, imo.  It’s high time she felt the weight of her own cringe.

Most of my speculation up to this point had been slowly pin-balling through my brain in some form or other for a couple months, but I wasn’t particularly invested in any of it.  I thought it might be cool if Yoshida turned out to be the Death Devil, and wasn’t inclined to rule it out, but I didn’t think it was especially likely either, and I certainly didn’t have any desire to put myself out there, and breathlessly post about it.  Waiting and seeing seemed more appealing.  But, then, I started thinking about Famine.  I just about bored a hole through her head as I asked myself: what purpose do you serve, and why are you here?  Well, the answer I eventually came to excited me enough that I not only devoted some three thousand words to her, but I simply had to take Yoshida along for the ride as well, once the pieces really started falling into place.  And with that, I think I’ll start talking about Famine.

Whereas Part 1 is full of fragile, yet intense bonds in which the characters can find solace between their excursions through the meat grinder, Part 2 is all missed connections, people talking past each other, trust issues, and crippling loneliness.  With that in mind, what does it imply that the apparent villain for this stretch of the story wears the mantel of deprivation and disparity?  Chainsaw Man places such profound importance on food as an expression of love, be it wholesome, toxic, and everything in between.  So, there must be strong thematic significance to a character who is, quite literally, defined by its lack—a lack of food, a lack of resources, and a lack of love.  It’s a whole bundle of key concepts which the story has revolved around, all embodied in a single word.  So, while the series has had a few throwaway villains in the past whose purpose was, essentially, to look cool for an arc and then exit stage left without leaving much of a lasting impression, I felt fairly certain Famine wasn’t one of them for the aforementioned reasons.  Nevertheless, I struggled to get a read on her for the longest time.

I asked myself: what do I know about Famine?

She claims to be on Yoru’s side, and says she’d do “anything for my little sister.”

She’s insinuated herself in the devil hunting club at Asa and Denji’s school.

Yoru wants nothing to do with her, claiming that she’s dangerous, and unhinged. 

In addition, Yoru is averse to discussing her at length.

She’s in favor of Asa/Yoru turning Denji into a weapon.

She doesn’t care about hiding her identity.

She insists on being called Fami.

She’s at the very least aware of the prophecy, and Public Safety has reason to believe she’s working to bring it about.

She’s subdued and cold in her affect.

Her totemic animal symbol is a penguin.

Her design is full of asymmetrical elements (e.g. the moles and extra lobe piercings on her right ear,) which are meant to evoke the image of unbalanced scales.

She’s constantly slouching.

Her scale earrings happen to resemble Denji’s pullcord.

No amount of food satisfies her.

I also tried thinking about her in the context of the previous antagonist. Makima was presented initially as an ally, and did things that were technically positive and heroic.  But, she was up to so much underhanded and menacing shit that it was impossible for even the most careless reader to take her at face value, and much of story’s tension lied in whether she would be revealed as an outright villain, or merely a cutthroat, duplicitous ally.

Famine feels almost like the inverse of that.  She’s presented as an antagonist, and does some vaguely villainous things.  But, is she one?  There’s a dearth of clarity of intent by comparison.  While Makima held her cards close to her chest, her actions themselves were never ambiguous, if that makes any sense.  Famine’s motives, her aims, what she does and doesn’t have a hand in—they’re all completely obscure.  There are a whole lot of assumptions and impressions of her floating around from Yoru and Yoshida, and she’s probably involved with this Justice Devil business… maybe. But, the devil in question has very little to say for herself, as opposed to Makima, who, when prompted, could justify herself ‘til the cows came home.

Makima’s iconic expression was one of self-satisfied serenity.  Famine’s typical expression is, by my reckoning, one of constant, subdued dejection—the sort of look you might wear after glimpsing a dead bird on the pavement, feeling vaguely bummed about it for the rest of the afternoon.  Where Makima was consistently scary, Famine has been, at most, creepy, and, more often than that, simply awkward.

With all that in mind, I thought to myself: “Okay, she probably is a villain, but she’s definitely not of the Machiavellian girlboss persuasion.  Her vibes are completely different.  Makima shall keep her crown”

The degree to which Yoru avoids her was also interesting.  If Famine were “crazy” in a straightforward manner, I don’t think Yoru would be so reticent to talk about her.  If you think about it rationally, shouldn’t she want Asa to be thoroughly debriefed regarding a powerful enemy who just stepped onto the playing field?  For all of Yoru’s clumsiness in other spheres, she’s clever when it comes to fighting, to tactics, to all the things that war entails.  But instead, she withdraws into herself and refuses to discuss Famine beyond a single curt warning.  Whatever happened between these two, the emotions must have run high.

Then there’s the matter of penguins.  For those who aren’t compelled to keep up to date with the intricacies of Japanese wordplay as they become relevant to the story, let me offer a refresher.  In Japanese, Famine’s name is 飢餓の悪魔 (kiga no akuma.)  The most common term for penguin in Japanese is the loan word, ペンギン (pengin.)  However, kiga, when spelled 企鵝, is another word for penguin. She is properly introduced immediately after Denji stomps off to go see penguins, and his line about it is also the subtitle for the cover of volume 14—the one with her face on it.  To the Japanese readership, it’s readily apparent that Famine is being connected to penguins in much the same way as Denji is to dogs, Power to cats, or Asa to birds.  (As an aside, I’m not sure if this was purposeful or not, but Famine’s conspicuous fuchsia eyes seem reminiscent of a Macaroni penguin’s.)

Now, charming though that pun may be, the question of the meaning behind Famine’s association with penguins remains.  Prior instances of characters being personified as animals have always been thematically important, so it’s worth digging into.  Here’s what I envision when I think of penguins: they survive in an uncaring and unforgiving environment.  They gorge themselves on fatty fish so they can survive fasting as they huddle together for warmth through the sunless winter.  They are birds, but cannot fly.  They are effortless swimmers, but cannot remain in the water.  They live in cute little families, build cute little pebble nests for themselves, and use their cute little feet and bellies to shelter their chicks from the frigid air.  The choice to associate her with penguins evokes, in my view, a constant push-pull between profound devotion and stark deprivation.

The denouement of the aquarium arc makes me think I might be onto something with this interpretation.  While Kiga (飢餓) perches ominously atop a building in the typical villainous fashion, distant and forlorn, Kiga (企鵝) curiously waddles up to Denji looking for affection, for that all-important hug, which he is happy to provide.  And, in that same moment, Famine and Yoshida share a tense glance.  I’d like to think I know subtext when I see it, and this moment seems loaded with it.  At this point, I started to get the feeling that Famine was being subtly set up as a tragic figure.

It was when volume 14 was released that my synapses started really (mis)firing. When I first saw its inside cover illustration, I felt a heavy sense of significance that’s hard to put into words. There’s a sense of bleak exhaustion radiating off the page, and it fascinated me.  Okay, she’s definitely going to be a tragic figure, nothing subtle about it, I thought to myself.  I started pondering: just what could that tragedy be?  What would have enough gravitas to warrant representing Famine with such dire imagery? And then, the realization that made me obsessed enough to start writing down my thoughts hit me.  The four horsemen are siblings.  Siblings.  What if they’re actually a dark mirror to the would-be siblings we fell in love with in Part 1?  Certainly, if I were in Fujimoto’s position, I wouldn’t be able to resist drawing parallels.

I started absentmindedly walking into walls as I wondered to myself: okay, tragic siblings.  Got it. But, what is the saddest possible way one could combine these ingredients?  Well, how about something that Chainsaw Man has touched on, but never deeply delved into: the devils’ cycle of reincarnation.

I noticed something: neither Makima nor Yoru have ever indicated that they regard their fellow horsemen as siblings, much less addressed them with any implicit camaraderie or endearment—thus far, only Famine has ever done so.  And then, I started thinking about that in the context of my musings that the Death Devil might be more killable than the other primal fears.  Rather than Death, I venture instead that Famine is the horseman who has never once died. If that were the case, it would serve to explain why she has resting-depression-face, and why she slouches over as if she has something weighing her down.

Consider, also, her insistence on being called Fami.  There’s no way to know for sure until we’ve seen her talk to someone who definitely can’t be a horseman, but what if “Fami” (Kiga-chan) isn’t what she wants to be called in general, but how she wishes to be addressed by her siblings?  (I suppose Asa would be considered an in-law in this scenario.)  It’s a bit weird that Famine objected not only to Yoshida addressing her by her devil title, but also to him calling her Kiga-senpai.  It just had to be Kiga-chan.  Perhaps that’s how her siblings used to call her, once upon a time, and by insisting that they address her as such, she’s clinging to the vestiges of their old relationship.

Let’s say the story of the four horsemen goes something along these lines: Once upon a time, they were a loving family, found or otherwise.  Life sucks, as it does, but in finding solace in each other, they could weather whatever life threw at them.  One by one, though, each of them die, except for Famine.  That’s okay, though: all she needs to do is seek out their reincarnations, and they can pick up where they left off.  But, it’s not quite that simple, is it?  Because she’s the only one who carries the memories, the love, the expectations, and the trauma of loss.  Even if she managed to make it work out in earlier iterations of the cycle, by the time the story starts, all of that has completely fallen apart.  The four horsemen are now enemies bound together by nothing but a shared title, and Famine is the only one who remembers that they were ever anything else.

If all of this is starting to sound familiar, that’s because it’s what Denji is going to have to contend with when he reunites with Power.  While hybrids like Denji are very difficult to kill (I’m assuming they work off of lich-rules,) devils like Power don’t have a long shelf life in practice, even if their bodies have no definite lifespan.  Assuming he doesn’t get himself truly killed, or otherwise permanently dismembered, then on a long enough timescale, Denji is going to keep persisting while Power, and even Nayuta, are going to keep dying.  If he wants to keep their relationship alive, he’s going to have to recreate it every. single. time. a feat which will become increasingly difficult as Denji’s baggage grows, and the shared context forming the basis of their relationship gradually drifts out of synch.  That, I think, is the entropy which Denji will soon find himself up against, and Famine’s purpose in the story is to show its terminus—what it means to succumb to it.  

Like Denji, Famine will partake of the crapburger for as long as she has a purpose to cling to.  That purpose is her siblings, and their former relationship—one that, once upon a time, may have been as profound and loving as the bond between Denji, Aki, and Power.  And in that, we may have found the reason why Famine’s most prominent design element is one she shares with Denji.  Her pullcord-like earrings are meant to clue the reader in that these two are foils, a pair of middle-children who were thrust into a role of heavy responsibility after losing their siblings.

If Famine were to lay down her burden and let death take her, it might be a relief.  But, she has decided to bear the burden of remembering, of witnessing the arc of her siblings’ lives across their many reincarnations.  If she lets go, then who they once were, and the bond they once shared, would be completely lost to history, its final thread broken.  And so, she keeps on trucking, her expression growing ever more haunted, her feelings and actions becoming ever more unnerving and inexplicable to her siblings, her heart growing ever more twisted, and her signature stoop growing ever more pronounced with the millennia. And, while keeping all that in mind, let me remind you of Yoshida’s possible desire—to erase himself from existence.

Obviously, this all pure conjecture, (an entire Venetian ball gown’s worth, in fact.)  But I think an ordeal of this degree would give Famine a tragedy worthy of both her name, and her association with an animal that struggles to keep its family alive against a backdrop of utter desolation.  Not only that, it would also tie her into the ongoing theme of parasocial relationships: she can’t help but project her siblings former selves onto their new incarnations, unable to meet them where they’re at, and see them for who they are in the here and now—this disconnect may well be why Yoru is so creeped out by her.

(Speaking of all this reincarnation angst, do you ever think about how our silly little guy Beam seemed to recall his past life with perfect, nonchalant clarity, and simply never saw fit to share with the class?  I think about it all time.)

Anyway, if you assume that Famine’s goal is to protect her siblings, and that she’ll intercede whenever one of them is in danger of permanent death, her actions start to make a bit more sense.  Why would she want the prophecy that ends with ‘Mars’ reigning to come true? Because she shares Yoru’s worry humanity will stop fearing her, and that her sister will subsequently die for good. Why does she antagonize Chainsaw man? Because she knows her brother wants to use Pochita’s power to kill himself—something she could never abide by.

She may have resigned herself to never being loved or even understood by her family again, to perpetual emotional starvation, but if Pochita ate one of her siblings, then she’d never get to love them again, whatever wholesomeness they once shared would be unspooled from time itself, and not even her memories could keep them alive.  She’d fight like hell to stop that from happening, with Pochita and, by extension, Denji, rising to the top of her shit list.  This may also serve to explain why she wanted Asa to turn Denji into a weapon—something which would ultimately be counterproductive to Yoru’s goal of getting him to regurgitate the nuke devil.  If Famine wants to neutralize the threat Pochita poses to her siblings, merely killing him would only delay the inevitable, since he’d soon be reborn back in hell.  But, if she were able to trap him in some sort of limbo state, that might actually ensure he’d never be a threat again.  And thus, she sets the aquarium arc in motion.

TL;DR:  Famine is basically Homura.  Purple?  Check. SHAFT headtilt?  Check.  And with that, I’m finally ready to talk more about the café scene, and why I’m not normal about it.

Having heaped all that additional (highly speculative) context over top it, the scene between Famine and Yoshida at the café is transformed from a mere vehicle for exposition, to a fraught reunion between two people who were once close, but can no longer recognize each other.  It would explain why this scene made my subtext senses tingle the first time I read it. When I revisited chapter 122 in light of my speculations, there were several new things I noticed.

Something that had stuck in my craw for the longest time were these little symbolic gestures which connected Yoshida to Aki, of all people.  It made no sense to me.  Aside from their shared tendency to tower over everyone like a beansprout, what on earth does this smug jackass have in common with our dearly departed, single father of two?

But before I get ahead of myself, I should clarify what those parallels are. Part 2 is littered with small callbacks to concurrent events in Part 1, which seem to exist in dialogue with each other.  As for those linking Aki with Yoshida, it starts as soon as the latter’s introduction to Part 2.  Part 2 doesn’t have an equivalent to the muscle devil chapter; we go straight from the initial demonic possession to meeting the bestie and saving cats, as it were. As such, Yoshida’s introduction in the second chapter of Part 2 is essentially in tandem with Aki’s introduction in chapter three.  Next would be the scene of him and Denji in the café, which is in tandem with Aki’s scene in the hospital in chapter 11.  Both come after the Bat Devil is killed and a cat is saved, and both involve Aki and Yoshida respectively trying to bribe Denji with food into behaving.  This last one isn’t concurrent like the other two, but Yoshida sitting on Denji reminds me of Aki doing the same at the beginning of the International Assassins arc.  It’s all pretty conspicuous, and I’m far from the first to have noticed.  So, considering it’s almost certainly deliberate, what is it, then, that motivates comparing Yoshida to Aki?

After eating several rolls of foil, I realize something.  What if Yoshida is being compared to Aki because, once upon a time, he was someone’s Aki?  Famine’s, to be exact.  Given that Famine refers to Yoru as her younger sister, it’s probably safe to assume that the “birth order” of these siblings, as it were, is the reverse of the order they were introduced in the relevant verse from the Book of Revelations, with Death being the eldest, and Conquest being the youngest.  The comparisons, I posit, are meant to clue us in that they’re both older brothers.

And then… and then, I realized that, if I was on the right track, you could draw a clean thematic through line from Aki cutting the little bunny apples at Denji’s bedside to bribe him into behaving, to Yoshida taking Denji to a café to bribe him into behaving, to Yoshida inviting Famine to that same café for their stilted conversation.  And what’s more, they’re at the same table, and with the same seating arrangements—the only difference being that Famine takes Denji’s spot, providing her with yet another parallel to him.  I just about started seeing shrimp-colors, I was so starry eyed.

Maybe I’m hopelessly lost in the confirmation-bias sauce, and seeing something that isn’t there.  But, to me, it seems that Famine’s expression becomes slightly more crestfallen than usual after Yoshida threatens her outright.  It’s a subtle microexpression, and she’s back to her usual poker face on the next page, but assuming I’m not jumping at shadows, then this further convinces me that he means something to her.  I can’t imagine that just any old thing would be capable of putting a dent, however subtle, on Famine’s stony countenance.  But, for someone she loves to threaten to kill her?  That must still sting, no matter how long she’s had to get used to it.

So, that’s what I think the story of the four horsemen is building to: a millennia-long family drama that’s about to reach nuclear criticality, with both Asa and Denji poised to get caught in the blast radius.  

Phew, that was a lot.  And I’ll be downright embarrassed if none of it ends up panning out.  There’s nothing quite as jarring as pouring your heart and mind into an interpretation, downright making it your baby, only to later realize that you and the author weren’t ever on the same wavelength.  However, if we want the rewards of glimpsing shrimp colors, we must submit to the mortifying ordeal of crack theories.  To anyone who’s still here, thank you so very much for reading my brain vomit.  If even 15% of this ends up being ballpark-accurate, I will die on the spot. In the meantime, please talk to me about how Chainsaw Man is a stealth shonen reimagining of Mawaru Penguindrum; I feel like I’m going insane in my little corner here.

*I think there’s a strong case to be made that Yoru intuited who she was at the time, and was just in denial because she didn’t want to deal with or think about Famine, but my point stands regardless.  If she were able to perceive the rings in Famine’s eyes, there’d be no room for either doubt or denial.

[not-bcring]

"Who doesn't lock the door?" (I want one too for whichever of our horny bbies you want) -  ✩   「 @ncughty-uwu 」   ✩  

✩   「 Meme  」   ✩  

「 ☆ 」 After a busy week of streaming, several marathon-long charity streams having come out in short succession, one would think that Ayumu would be eager to take a break. But an influencer's work is never done... At least, not until he's given his hornier fans something new to sink their teeth into as well. Chuckling to himself at how many would foam at the mouth at the mere thought of getting a taste of him, the small star repositions the videocamera to capture his entire body.

Last time, his recording was rather up close and personal... So this time, he prepared something a bit more elaborate. Draped in sheer seductive finery, fabric doesn't hide his body so much as it accentuates it. Pink lace cups his breasts in intricate swirled patterns, wrapping around his waist before it fades into short flowing layers of near-transparent fabric. Bottom half bared, legs spread as Ayumu comfortably settles himself on the bed, showcasing his coveted folds to the camera; already growing damp thanks to the familiar scenario.

❝ Alright... And— Action. ❞ Ayumu murmurs, exhaling a steadying breath before a coy smile upturns glossy lips. Lids lowering to cast a knowing look at the camera, as if staring directly at every masterbating fan he knows will scramble to play the video when he uploads it, green hues sparkle enticingly as he purrs, ❝ Hey everyone~ Did you miss me? ❞ Lightly laughing, he slides two fingers down his thighs, fingertips barely grazing his folds as he teases, ❝ Pffft— Just kidding. I know you've been playing my last video on loop this whole time. I see the statistics~ ❞

Fingers finally slip between with a soft, wet noise. Choking down a mewl at the sensation— he knows it drives people crazy when he holds back —he continues the casual conversation, as if not exploring himself in plain view ( albeit there's a slight tremble to his voice now ) ❝ But as GOOD as that last video is, I know you've been dying for something new... And thanks to all the suggestions by dedicated simps, I have some fun toys to try out~ ❞

However, when Ayumu reaches over to grab one laying beside him, the video takes an... unexpected turn. Wide eyes meet the previously unnoticed guest, uncertain how long Daisuke has been standing there, but not nearly as mortified by it as most might expect. He and the Prince have been steadily growing closer, the taller male found in so many of Ayumu's streams at this point that his fans have started asking about Daisuke whenever he wasn't. They've also been prying into EXACTLY how close the two have grown, but Ayumu has been careful not to confirm anything. Mainly because there isn't anything to confirm.

Not that Ayumu doesn't think there COULDN'T be. He's been sprinkling more than enough encouraging hints into their conversations... Starting to wonder if Daisuke could finally be teetering on the edge between being too scared to try anything and wanting Ayumu too much to resist. Maybe, this could be the unceremonious push Daisuke needs to at least admit that he's interested. Even if he won't take any hands-on action... But maybe the remote controlled vibrator beside Ayumu could ease the skittish male into exploring repressed urges.

It was only a moment of consideration, but that's all Ayumu needs before he flashes a faux-confident smirk Daisuke's way and quips, ❝ Huh— I didn't expect a live audience... But I'm not opposed to it. I mean, unless you have something better to do? ❞ Beckoning the other over with a finger and a tilt of his head, Ayumu waits to see if Daisuke takes the bait... Not wanting to consider the alternative. 「 ☆ 」

[stariwrites]

Please

Pairing: Sukuna x GN! Reader (The reader is AFAB)

Warnings: Dubious Consent, Oral (Reader! Receiving), Mind break, edging, denied orgasm, monsterfucking, corruption kink, dirty talk, mean dom to soft dom Sukuna, use of little one and little sorcerer as well as pet (only twice though), forced submission just to be safe 

A/N: I had so much fun writing this and this is for @seita “Corrupt a Virgin Collab!” Thank you so much for letting me participate! All characters are 18+  and as always Minors DNI and if you do or if you’re a nameless blog I will block you instantly. 

Word Count: 2.6K

Summary: Megumi, Itadori, Nobara, Gojo, Nanami...I’m sorry. I wasn’t able to keep my promise and protect all of you. 

Debris settled over the city. You coughed, cringing at the blood that spilled from your lips at the hit you had taken. You looked around you, watching as more buildings collapsed, people screamed causing it to echo. You couldn’t find anybody no matter where you looked. Your heart raced inside your chest. 

How much longer would you be able to pull this off? Ever since Sukuna and Itadori had been separated he caused nothing but destruction. 

You watched the curse you were currently fighting rush towards you. It’s green spindles shot out only for you to dodge it in the nick of time. The wall where you had been standing in front of was nothing but a hole. You cringed. That could’ve been you.

Before you had time to recover it focused it’s sights on you again, the eight purple eyes stared directly into yours. You tried to get up again only to be met by an explosion of pain. You glanced down at your hand nursing the wound on your stomach only to see crimson seep through your fingers. Shit. 

It let out a wicked shriek, leaving your ears ringing. It charged at you again. You closed your eyes. 

Megumi, Itadori, Nobara, Gojo, Nanami...I’m sorry. I wasn’t able to keep my promise and protect all of you. 

“Protect me?” Gojo’s voice was incredulous as he tossed his head back and laughed. It had been a busy day filled with killing curses and saving people, but at the end of it all of you were able to spend time together and watch the fireworks. “I’m the strongest there is, if anything it would be me protecting you.” 

Nanami huffed at his response, proceeding to whack him upside the head. He whined, turning to Nanami no doubt to start playfully fighting him which would end in Nanami sighing in disappointment.

You could only shake your head at the two of them while Nobara scoffed, nudging your arm with a grin. “Yeah, and besides we’re all going to get stronger so we don’t need to be protected.”

Megumi nodded with a small smile which caused you to huff.

“It’s not like that!” You clenched your fists beside you, before lowering your voice. “It’s just that all of you are precious to me and I’ll do whatever it takes to not see you hurt.”

They were all speechless at your response until Itadori’s face lit up into a bright smile. “Let's do it!” He cheered, jumping into the air. “We’ll be the best group of sorcerers out there you’ll see! Let’s all protect each other.”

The six of you looked at each other with matching soft expressions, a silent agreement that you’d all make it to the very end when the first explosion fired off. Itadori shrieked at the unexpected boom that echoed in the sky causing your laughter to break the silence between each firework. 

You smiled looking back on the memory. It was fun. The people you met, the friends you gained, you wouldn’t have traded it for the world. As you anticipated the final blow one last thought flashed through your mind. You had no regrets.

An explosion of light flooded from behind your eyelids, you braced for impact but none came. Slowly, you cracked an eye open only to have your breathing hitch. Standing where the cursed spirit used to be was-

“Sukuna,” your own voice surprised you. The demon turned to you with an unamused expression.

“Think you can just die like that?” He sneered approaching you. “You fool.” 

You tried to get up, all your senses screaming to fight but you only managed to straighten your posture before wincing in pain. Broken ribs, you assumed, if not worse. “What do you want?” You managed to croak out. 

Standing above you, his eyes were filled with venom. You swallowed silently wishing the destroyed cursed spirit had taken you out. You refused to break away from his gaze while his hand moved to cup your cheek. You flinched from his touch expecting him to rip your skin away with the swipe of his talons, but instead he clicked his tongue at the action.

“Make no mistake little one, If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.” His voice sent shivers down your spine, but your body relaxed at the words. You wanted to shake your head. How could that even be remotely comforting?

You couldn’t dwell on it for long because the next thing you knew you could breathe properly again. You took a deep breath in, almost choking on it. You removed your hand from your stomach only to gape in shock. 

“You,” you looked up at the demon with wide eyes. “You healed me?”

He rolled his eyes. He couldn’t stand the way humans interacted nor did he want to. He craved the chaos he created and only wanted to see more of it, but one sorcerer managed to get under his skin, you. 

You were an enigma, your cursed energy was strong, that was for certain and as obsessed as he was with Megumi there was something about you that drew him to you. Maybe it was the way he could tell you were a virgin. You had so much experience but none with another person’s touch. He thought many times about you being tied up and at his mercy while he edged you for hours causing you to cry out pleas along with his name. 

Unfortunately there was no time to act on what he wanted with him still being inside the brat, but now, now was the perfect time. 

“Why?” The question left your mouth before you could stop it. He wanted to laugh at your perplexed expression paying close attention to your lips. You didn’t realize it, but you backed yourself into a corner. 

“Oh Little Sorcerer,” he crooned mockingly. A sinister smile stretched across his face reminding you just who you were dealing with. 

Squatting down to your level, he let his eyes rove over your body, paying close attention to where your uniform was torn and wrinkled. Instinctively, you covered yourself to the best of your ability which only made him lick his lips.

“You didn’t think I did that without a price,” his voice dropped an octave, “did you?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest while you gasped. There was no way, but noticing the hunger in those eyes that held a predatory gleam you understood what he meant. You couldn’t-

“Get away from them!” Megumi shouted. His footsteps raced towards where you were. Itadori and Nobara were fast at his heels shouting for you. A ghost of a smile fell onto your face. They were okay. From what you saw the only wounds were some scratches and bruises. They would be okay. The relief quickly faded when a talon turned your chin to make you look at him once more.

His teeth were on full display. “Let’s make a contract, shall we? I won’t hurt your friends as long as you do what I want in my domain.”

You raised an eyebrow skeptically. “And what would that be?”

“I get to ruin you.”

You knew you could stall, could buy time until they could help you, but the more you waited the more people screamed.

“So little one, what will it be?” Sukuna’s voice rang heavy in your ears. You could either go with him or more people would be hurt. You purse your lips, you had two choices: either allow Sukuna to take you and buy your friends some time or wait for them and risk more people dying. 

With a deep breath you faced the demon. “If I go with you, you promise that no person, that includes jujutsu sorcerers and civilians will be harmed?”

“Of course.”

Part of you didn’t trust him, but you mulled over the deal, searching for any loopholes. Megumi, Itadori and Nobara were getting closer. 

“Time’s running out, have you made a decision?”

You looked at your friends one last time as they screamed in horror running faster. With a final breath you focused back on the king of curses. 

“I accept.”

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

“Such a pretty little thing aren’t you?”

Obscene sounds echoed throughout the domain as you grinded against Sukuna’s tongue that resided on his abdomen. Small whimpers and broken moans spilled from your lips. Tears slid down your face while the appendage was lapping at your folds, flicking at your clit every now and again. Each grind down had your toes curling. You tossed your head back.

“Shut, ah, shut up!” You tried to shout, but it held no mirth to it. 

Sukuna smirked at your reaction. Still so fiery even after he edged you, you were a fun one that was for certain. 

He’d envisioned this moment many times before, but nothing beat the real thing. He kept your arms stretched above you with one of his hands while the other he used to cup your cheek. He lived for your expression, the way your eyelashes were grouped together with tears as you were forced to keep taking what he was giving you, completely at his mercy.

“What’s wrong little sorcerer,” he snarled. “Can’t take my tongue?” He couldn’t help but grow addicted to the breathy pants you let out as you clamped down at his words. His eyes widened, peering at you with an expression that almost looked impressed. 

“Who knew you could be such a slutty pet. Nobody’s ever touched you like this before and you’re already so fucked out, I wonder what will happen when you cum, hm?”

“Fu-fuck you,” you managed to get out between moans. You refused to give into him, wishing you had more strength in you to glare. You needed to put up a fight. 

He raised an eyebrow with a laugh. “Brat,” he dug his nails into your hips, there would be indents there for days, but he didn’t care. “You try to put up such a front, wouldn’t it feel better to give in rather than fight me? You’re so wet and you’ve been so good, so pliant for me are you sure you don’t want a reward?

The familiar coil in your stomach was about to break causing you to thrash your head back and forth. The burn was becoming painful, you didn’t know how much longer you’d last if he kept denying you. Sukuna noticed, forcing your hips to grind faster. 

“Oh? Is the little sorcerer close? Tell me, do you want to know what it’s like to cum from somebody other than you, hm?” He hummed keeping the brutal pace, watching as you heaved for breath, your eyes glossy and almost rolling back. A twisted grin morphed onto his face at the sight. 

“Don’t tell me I’ve fucked you dumb already,” he bit his lip to keep from groaning out into the domain. The reflection of the water only made you look more wrecked. “Tell me, is this what you’re going to look like when you're stretched out on my cock?”

The image alone had your toes curling. You couldn’t fight it anymore. You needed release. “M’close. M’so close. M’gonna cum. Gonna ngh gonna cum Sukuna. Sukuna,” you babbled, slurring your words.

You were almost there all you needed was one more extra push. 

Before you had time to process what was happening your hips stilled. A loud sob ripped it’s way from your throat. You couldn’t handle being denied anymore. All you could do was struggle in his hold and curse the king in front of you for torturing you like this. That’s when it registered, he was going to kill you like this. That must’ve been his plan all along.

You were about to speak, to tell him to just kill you already when he leaned closer towards you. His lips ghosted against yours. Without thinking you leaned in, desperate to feel his lips against yours, but before you could he pulled away and gazed at you.

You could see your reflection in his eyes, the way you were drooling for him, you were a mess, your eyes glossy from crying, you didn’t recognize the person staring back at you. You couldn’t remember how many times he edged you, but it was unbearable. 

“Beg me.”

Your breath caught in your throat even though you’d been expecting that. Part of you, the desperate want that curled itself into your skin and set your heart aflame wanted to cave in. Wanted so badly to finally get the release you’ve been craving all this time, but rationally you looked at the demon and whispered, “I, I can’t.”

As soon as the words were out you wanted to take them back, disappointment swam within you. You wanted to know what it was like, but the sorcerer in you couldn’t yield. You reminded yourself that you were doing this for them, but that would’ve been a lie.

 You expected Sukuna to tear you to shreds or leave you like this but instead he shushed you.

Your eyes snapped open, not even remembering when you closed them. He only rubbed your back with one of the hands that was on your hip while the other hand holding your arms set them down.

“Such a brave sorcerer, aren’t you? Even when you’re so desperate you still hold so much strength, but don’t you want to be ruined? Don’t you wish you would just be able to let go and have somebody else take the reins?” His voice was uncharacteristically soft like he was talking to something fragile, something that could break. 

“I-”

You couldn’t deny that it sounded nice, to be out of control for once, to just let yourself be ruined by Sukuna. You craved release so bad it hurt. You shuddered against him at the thought of finally being able to lose yourself in pleasure while the cool air of the domain caught up to you.

Without hesitation, Sukuna embraced you in his arms, bringing you close to his chest. You imagined that if he was human, you’d be able to hear his heart beat pressed against him like this. He caressed any inch of your body his hands could reach as he placed a chaste kiss to your temple. You settled in the warmth.

“Shh, just let me take care of you little one,” he squeezed you close before placing two set of his hands on your shoulders to pull you back. It took everything in him not to smile. He had you, he knew he had you judging by the way your face was going from conflicted to completely lax. 

“I’ll ruin you for anybody else,” the hands on your shoulders dropped down to barely touch your waist, tickling you. He began to kiss down your jaw, moving to your neck. “You could rule by my side and stay with me in this space forever, you wouldn’t have to worry about curses,” he sucked a mark causing you to whimper. “Or saving people,” his other hands moved to play with your nipples. “Or those pesky sorcerers.” 

Your mind was reeling, unable to concentrate on any coherent thought. The difference from being so rough to being soft was messing with your head. You were losing yourself, but still tried so desperately to hang on, to not give in. You had friends you needed to protect, but all of that was fading away. 

Sukuna noticed and as he sucked on your earlobe, he used the hands tickling you to meet your hips, positioning you over his cock. “All you have to say is-”

“Please.”

[elias-code]

How to Kiss (with fangs)

Characters: c!Techno x gn!reader

~Ask Link~

Summary: You and Technoblade are childhood friends and an innocuous visit to his cabin ended up trapping you with him for a week straight. While trying to annoy him, you asked how he kissed with his fangs, and you soon got a first-hand look at how it's done.

Warnings: None (it's fluff :3)

----------- This was for an ask! I hope you enjoy anon!! -----------

You set out on what was supposed to be a weekend trip, there to see Techno and get up to some mischief like old times. As kids, you’d ransack Phil’s house and harass Will together. No matter what happened, you two always ended up in some sort of trouble and Phil would have to come to rescue you.

You came to the cabin, partly out of boredom, at the worst time possible. The blizzard hit the night you arrived, trapping you in the house with Techno for a week. You were sure the storm had to let up soon, but every morning, the house was dark. The snow still piling up outside while you two huddled together for warmth, not that he needed it.

Eventually, he got tired of talking. He was never much for small talk, but especially now since you’d run out of even remotely interesting things to talk about. He tried to read to you, but you were restless.

“Hey!”

“I told you if you didn’t move, I’d just pretend you weren’t there.”

Earlier, trying to get his attention, you’d sat on the ottoman of his armchair, where he usually rested his feet while he read. You thought it’d bother him, but after asking you to move multiple times, he just decided to best you and he swung his legs onto your lap, trapping you there.

“Well, now I’m just going to annoy you until you move your legs.”

“Feel free,” He said, reaching for the book on the table next to him. He always looked studious with his reading glasses on, the little fangs poking out of his mouth being especially cute when he focused.

“Weather’s pretty crazy, huh?” You said for the second time that day, you know it got on his nerves, and so you made a point to asking as often as possible.

“Are you going to do this all night?”

“Until you let me get up.”

“You’re just going to annoy me somewhere else. At least here you’re predictable.”

He was right, you thought, but you might as well make the most of it. “Where’d you get these boots?”

“You know I make my own clothes.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen you make stuff.” You poked his foot, pretending to look at the stitching. “I remember when I accidentally ripped your cape and you had to stitch it up.”

“Still mad about that.”

“Sorry,” You flicked the toe of the boot, “I mean, it was the first time I’d seen you sew. I didn’t know you knew how.”

“Mhm.”

This was getting nowhere. You huffed, looking at the fire that was roaring a minute ago, now only crackling away over a pile of ash. You’d have to add another log to the fire soon, but he wasn’t letting his feet up anytime soon. You were already getting cold.

“The fire’s dying.”

“Yep, thank god we’re both nether-dwellers,” He looked up sarcastically, “Oh wait, you’re not.”

“Techno,” You whined, kicking your feet against the foot of his chair.

“What?”

“Let me up, I want to stoke the fire,” You looked at him, pretending to shiver, “I’m already cold!”

“In a minute.”

Alright, well now it was back to your old tactics. If he wouldn’t respond to annoyance or pouting, you’d have to bring out the big guns.

“Remember when Phil caught you putting ice in Will’s pillowcase?”

“Yes, I do.”

“He deserved it,” You said, “But he brought you out in front of Will and made you apologize.”

“And then he made me apologize to you for pinning it on you.”

“I remember. Maybe I should put ice in your pillowcase for trying to pull one over on me.”

“I don’t keep ice in my house, you’d have to get from some outside,” He looked briefly at you, “And you’re already dying in here.”

So much for that plan. Maybe it wasn’t embarrassing enough, you had to dig deeper. “What about…” You drew a blank.

“Hmm?”

“Have you ever kissed anyone?”

His eyes looked up from his book, squinting at you, trying to read your expression.

“You know I haven’t,”

“I mean I dunno, you must keep some secrets from me…”

“But you have a habit of knowing everything about everyone, you’d probably somehow know before I did.”

“Good point.”

There was a pause, your train of thought got away from you, now you were just thinking about kissing him.

“How’d you think you’d kiss someone?”

He took a deep breath, “What do you mean?” “Like, with your fangs, how would you, ya know…” You made some elaborate hand gestures, which confused him more, “With the fangs and all…”

“Um, I guess I’d be really careful.”

“But how? Show me.”

His face went bright pink, ears nearly red. You hit the sweet spot. He moved his legs off of you, tucking them onto his chair, propping up his book. Victory. You stood, grabbing a log for the fire. You slowly brought the flames back to life, blowing lightly on the embers, igniting the driest bits of bark.

“No, but seriously,” You walked over to his armchair and put your head on the top of the chair, tilting your head to look at him.

“Seriously what?” His face was still slightly flushed.

“How do you kiss with the fangs? I’m actually curious.”

“I don’t know if I could describe it.”

“Well, I mean we’ve got time to waste.”

His eyes darted to you and then back to the book, taking mental note of the page number so he could come back to it.

“What are you saying?” He turned his body to face yours, getting awkwardly close. You backed up and his head followed you to the front of the chair, expression never changing.

“I mean,” You poked one of his fangs, testing its sharpness, “That could hurt someone,”

“You’re pretty tough,”

Now you had each other turning pink. You wanted to hide your face, but that would mean he’d be winning. Besides, you wanted to see if he actually had the guts to kiss you.

“Then do it,” you taunted.

He rolled his eyes and leaned in, inviting you to do the same. Am I really doing this? Am I kissing my best friend? You leaned in. He put his hand on your cheek to steady you, any wrong move would mean you’d have a tooth in your face.

You got close enough to see the details on the rims of his glasses, and you could make out tiny trios of skulls engraved in gold. Your lips were practically touching, and you whispered, “Careful, I don’t want to have to explain to Phil why my lip is busted,”

He pulled away ever so slightly, “Wait, how do I actually do this?”

You laughed. He didn’t think he’d get that far, he was just trying to psych you out, secretly hoping you’d go for it.

“Let's just try, we can figure it out as we go,”

He went back in, tilting his head, trying to get purchase on your bottom lip. “No, that's not right,”

“You got this, Techno.”

This time, you managed to get one, mouths closed.

“Alright, just let me,” You blurted, holding his face.

You went for it, full force, slightly startling Techno. You forced his lips open with your tongue, freeing his bottom lip of his fangs. From there he got the hang of it.

You both sat there for a while, exploring each other’s mouths. All things considered, he wasn’t a bad kisser. Something inside of you stirred, a long-buried crush on Techno reawakening at that moment.

You smiled into the kiss and put your arms around his neck. You swirled your tongue around his fangs, testing their sharpness, daring him to bite down. He didn’t, he was being cautious, almost like he sincerely enjoyed it.

You both parted for air, staring at each other for a while afterwards, basking in the moment.

“Wasn’t so bad, was it?” You mocked, your face still burned bright pink and you felt hot to the touch.

“We should do this again sometime,”

“Maybe during a blizzard or something…”

[2goth2moth]

Any sort of smut with a naga or feral mothman like creature please and thank you

Anon, you said "naga" and my lil scaly heart got so happy. I have no idea if this is even remotely in the realm of what you were looking for, but I just couldn't shake the idea of a human prince with a harem full of monsters. I hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Prince's Favour (M!Naga x M!Reader, NSFW)

For reference: Enéas is a Brazilian rainbow boa. I was 100% going to have a blowjob scene in this but rainbow boas have backwards hooked teeth (think fishhooks) that are designed to not let things back out, and having that near your dick sounds like a very bad time.

Word count: 3514

Includes: Power dynamics (prince x concubine), non-human genitalia, rough sex, double penetration, a little bit of crying

Being the youngest prince in a kingdom with a still-living king could be overwhelmingly boring. Matters of state were passed to your parents and eldest sister, matters of security to your next oldest sibling, infrastructure and agriculture to the next oldest, twin brothers. Your bloodline was long and vital, which was very good for the kingdom’s longevity. It was not so good for keeping you occupied. Your role, as well as your youngest sister’s, ended up being almost completely performative, with official duties being limited to keeping up a royal education and looking pretty beside your family during public appearances. The whole arrangement left you with a lot of free time to eat and draw and lounge about.

And have sex.

It was normal for royalty to have lovers or harems, if they wanted to and their spouses were okay with it. You yourself had several lovers, all of whom you enjoyed and cared about deeply. One of whom was currently lounging invitingly on your bed as you did your best to capture his likeness in paint.

“Enéas, beloved, can you hold still for me?”

The naga groaned, the muscular coils of his body shifting slightly as he did. “I’ve been sitting for hours now. When you called me, I didn’t think it would be for this.”

“Ten minutes, then we can do something else. I swear.”

The look that he shot you was long-suffering, but he settled back into the purposefully relaxed position you had directed him into earlier after taking a sip from the goblet beside him.The whole thing was mostly an act. You had been summoning him to your chambers to sit for this painting on a regular basis for the past month, and no matter where the sessions ended (often with you wrapped firmly in his powerful body), you never put on any airs about what those first few hours would entail.

Golden sunlight shone through gauzy curtains and spilled onto Enéas’ skin, setting the scales ablaze. The round black marks that lay over red scales the colour of baked clay were already beautiful, but under the sun’s rays he was cast in a rainbow sheen, every scale shimmering like an oil slick. The creamy scales of his underbelly flowed from his face all the way down, flashing like pale moonlight between his darker coils. Naga rarely wore clothing, they had no real need to, but Enéas had certainly developed a taste for finery during his time in the palace. Fine, sheer cotton, dyed snowy white and rich yellow, draped around him like woven light, held in place by gold clasps. Cuffs set with precious stones circled on his wrists and biceps, and a beautiful metal collar engraved with intricate patterns lay flat against his throat.

“You’re staring, little prince.”

The rasping taunt broke you out of your stupor, and you realized that your eyes had been locked on him, paintbrush unmoving on your canvas. You finished the stroke you had started with a careful flick. Stepping back a little, you surveyed what you had done so far. The hours spent on the portrait had been worth it, and even though it wasn’t done, you could stand to be finished for the day.

“I was distracted,” you said. “You were distracting me.”

A cheeky grin split Enéas’s face. It was hard-edged and full of sharp, hooked teeth, stretching far past what it would have on a human face, but managed to be as lovely and charming as it was frightening. “I have no idea what you mean. I was only sitting here, just like you asked me to.”

“Sitting there in a very distracting way.” You wiped your hands on the sturdy apron you wore before untying it and discarding it messily to the side. “We’re done for today, you can relax now.”

“Finally.” He stretched his arms above his head and groaned loudly before flopping back and letting his eyes close. The movement sent his whole body rippling in the sunlight, and the sight made your mouth go dry.

You strode towards the bed, closing the distance quickly to sit beside Enéas on your plush bedspread. He didn’t even open his eyes when the mattress dipped under your weight. With a feather-light touch, you traced the features of his face with a thumb. The transition from red to white around what would be a hairline was first, the gradient of the small scales dipping low on his forehead and contouring under his eye sockets, the way it pulled back on his temples. The flat bridge of his nose, his sharp jaw, the mouth stretching almost the entire way along the hollows of his cheeks. He just barely leaned into every touch, doing a very good job of pretending like he didn’t care about you sitting next to him and touching him like he was something precious. Each one of his breaths fanned upwards, over your face, and it smelled like the sweet lime cordial he drank moments before.

Your thumb continued its path around his face until it caught on the center on his bottom lip. One of his eyes drifted open, pupil an inky slit on yellow-green sclera, and he parted his lips just enough for his long, forked tongue to flicker out. It wound around the digit, brushing against your knuckles and the sensitive skin between your fingers. Cold spit cooled even further on your skin as Enéas licked over your hand. In a single swift movement he dipped his head forward to take your thumb fully in his mouth. You froze. His lips tightened around it and he sucked, tongue still working you over. You could feel your cock start to fill and you pressed in and down, putting the slightest amount of pressure on the floor of Enéas’ mouth. A low, raspy moan rumbled through him, eyes fluttering closed and back arching prettily.

Putting more pressure on his mouth, you hooked your thumb behind the bone of his lower jaw and forced it down, exposing hooked teeth and making his tongue loll. “Get me ready, beloved, and be thorough.” You leaned down to press a sweet kiss to the edge of his scaly jaw. “I want both of them today.”

Enéas’s eyes snapped open. His pupils were blown wide in excitement and arousal, and he flickered his tongue out over your skin again before pulling you down next to him with firm hands. Those same hands didn’t hesitate to begin roaming over your body, making quick work of the fastenings keeping your tunic and trousers closed before pulling his own scant clothing off.

“It would be my pleasure, Your Highness,” he said. The sound was already breathless, and sounded so beautiful that it hurt.

He stripped you of your clothing with an impossible combination of speed and reverence, each touch against your skin burning with affection. Pushing you fully onto your back, he slithered around you, smooth scales dragging against your increasingly bare skin until you lay cradled in his strong coils. A heavy tail coaxed your legs apart as large hands began mapping a path down your body. They skimmed over your throat and chest, pausing to tease each of your nipples to full hardness, and drifted lower, caressing your waist and stomach, scratching soft patterns onto your hips and buttocks, before landing on your thighs. His cool, clever mouth soon followed. A sloppy, open-mouthed kiss landed above your pulse, then the base of your neck, trailing cold saliva over your shoulders and down your breastbone. You moaned quietly, unbidden, and your back arched up off the bed, eyes fluttering closed. Your world narrowed to sensation: the chill on your skin, the plush mattress underneath you, the smooth rasp of scales around you. Enéas’ hands lovingly massaging your thighs.

Your eyes shot open with a gasp when you felt his mouth close around one of your nipples. You could feel his smile against your skin as he suckled on the hardened nub. A little jolt went through you as those wicked teeth grazed over the delicate skin, your cock twitching where it now lay fully erect on your belly. One of his hands wandered up to play with the flushed head, dipping into the pre-cum pooling under it before raising his hand and licking his fingers clean.

Gripping his chin, you dragged his face up to meet yours. “I believe I told you to prepare me, Enéas.” The way you said his name managed to land somewhere between sweetly teasing and bitterly displeased. “We may be lovers, but I am still a prince. This may have been my mistake, though, maybe I wasn’t clear enough for you.” You pulled him up further, tucking your mouth beside his ear so that you could whisper directly to him. “Prepare me, my love, and do it nice and thorough. After you’re done, you will fuck me, with both cocks, until I can’t speak or until you fill me with your cum. Whichever comes later. Am I understood?”

Enéas smiled, pupils completely dilated, and dipped his head down to kiss you. It was salty and bitter from your pre-cum, with the barest hint of the lime cordial underneath. “As you wish, my prince.”

He sat back and lowered himself so that he was lying on his front between your legs. The coil of his body that had been pressing one of your legs open dug in harder, pulling your thigh even further out, and he threw your other leg over his shoulder to get better access between your cheeks. His big hands dug in and pulled them apart, exposing your tight hole to the air of the room. He breathed over it, pressing wet, biting kisses onto the supple flesh of your ass before slipping his tongue out and running it all the way from your hole to your balls. The long, slender fork in the muscle wrapped around you, almost delicately, spreading cold saliva over your balls and the base of your shaft. The chill was a brief shock against your skin that sent sparks zipping through you, making you drop your head back onto the mattress and forcing your breaths out in stuttering pants.

Enéas continued alternating between licking at your rim, just barely breaching the ring of muscle with the tips of his tongue, and suckling gently at your sac, each motion drawing desperate little noises out of you. It felt wonderful, but it was nowhere near enough. Somewhere in your mind you had a brief argument with yourself about whether it would be worth it to abandon all semblance of power and control that you had in order to grind your hips back on his face. On one hand, you were royalty, even splayed naked on your bed, and you liked to hold onto that for as long as you could. On the other, the feeling of his cool scales and wet, fluttering tongue was very rapidly driving that particular thing down your list of concerns.

All of that was wiped from your mind when you felt the blunt tip of one of Enéas’ fingers, slicked with oil from a vial he must have hidden somewhere on him when he started moving. It circled your hole slowly, deliberately, pressing just inside every so often, coaxing the muscle to loosen with practiced care. You wanted to squirm, to tense up under the teasing touches, but you forced yourself to breathe through it and relax as much as possible. This earned you a raspy noise of approval and a kiss to your sensitive inner thigh from your naga lover.

Seconds later, it also earned you one of his gloriously thick fingers carefully worked all the way inside you. Your back curved off the bed, a quiet moan spilling from your lips. He pumped it in and out a few times, just starting to open you up enough for him to continue. As soon as you relaxed, unconscious fists unclenching from the bedspread, a second finger, thick and wet with oil, joined the first. He twisted the two about inside you. Each motion dragged the subtle ridges of his scales along your inner walls, and when he crooked his knuckles deep inside you, you arched up with a breathless moan.

“Ohhhh, fuck.”

Enéas’ head emerged from between your legs, and he smirked at you as he began scissoring his fingers, stretching your rim, brushing up against the spot of blinding pleasure on every thrust. “Well, Your Royal Highness? Am I pleasing you now?”

“You would be pleasing me more if you got on with it,” you snarked at him. He grinned back at you, the tremor in your voice and the way that your whole body had begun quivering betrayed your pleasure too much for him to ever believe that you were honestly upset.

“As my prince wishes.”

He raised himself so that he was braced overtop of you, and he rubbed the head of his upper dick over your entrance. You hadn’t even noticed him teasing his cocks erect and out of the slit that usually kept them hidden, but it wouldn’t surprise you if that was what he had been doing with his other hand while prepping you. A sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth was the only warning you got before he pushed into you with near-maddening gentleness. His cocks were more slender than the average human’s, but they were longer, and were covered with nubby barbs of flexible cartilage that caught deliciously inside you whenever he pulled back. He started rocking his hips into yours, getting deeper and deeper with each stroke, dick not close to filling you up but the barbs stimulating you plenty all on their own. You moaned slightly each time he drew back, cock leaking even more pre-cum between your bodies. Waiting until he was fully seated inside you, body flush against your ass, he began gently massaging your hole, the muscle already stretched tight around him. He moved his fingers in sync with his shallow thrusts, slowly but surely opening your hole enough for him to slip his second cock inside.

You were moaning even more loudly now, shuddering noises of pleasure leaving your lips every time Enéas fucked into you or pressed in on your entrance. His finger disappeared from your skin briefly after a particularly rough thrust left you panting and teary-eyed. You whined at the loss, wriggling further back on his dick. Another rough drive of his hips sent your back arching painfully, mouth dropping open as his index finger slipped into you alongside his shaft.

“Nngg, ah-- fuck, so-oo good,” you mewled.

Enéas started fucking into you with even more ferocity, making your whole body move every single time his hips slammed into your ass. Your cock slapped up onto your stomach with an obscenely wet sound, and left wet smears of clear fluid on your skin each time it hit you. The sounds coming out of you were starting to sound desperate, morphing from regular moans of pleasure to pitiful little whimpers and gasps. You were so overwhelmed by the way that his cock reached so deep inside you and caught so gloriously coming back out that you didn’t even notice a second fingertip tease your rim. You didn’t notice it until the smoothly scaled digit thrust into you alongside his first one. The feeling of it, the stretch of your rim definitely painful now, ripped a shattered cry from you.

Your whole body was tensed up, chest heaving with panting breaths. “Oh shit. Enéas, I’m going to…”

The hand he had been using to hold himself above you darted downwards and locked in a tight ring around the base of your steadily leaking cock. The crescendo quickly building in the pit of your stomach was stopped in its tracks, and you wailed at the blocking of your orgasm. Enéas smirked wickedly at you before lowering his mouth to graze lightly over one of your nipples.

“Patience, little prince,” he chided, “Just hold on a little longer, and you can cum on both of my cocks.”

Each word he spoke was punctuated by him driving his barbed shaft into you and scissoring his fingers wider and wider. Somewhere in the haze of your almost-climax he had stuck a third finger into your hole, and all of them were now stretching you out as far as you could go. His big arms wrapped around your back and he aggressively hoisted you upwards, forcing you to wrap your legs around his body. He slipped his fingers out of you, and almost immediately his lower cock replaced it. The shaft was thicker, the head a little more bulbous, and it filled you up so wonderfully next to his other one. Once he was fully seated, he went still to let you get used to the intense stretch inside of you. You tried to wriggle about in his arm to get him even deeper inside of you, but he used both arms to grip you tight to his body, keeping you still. That mouth of his kept lovingly licking over your chest, going slack to let saliva leak out over his lips and onto your skin.

With a firm grip on your hips and an almost painful amount of care, Enéas lifted you up until only the heads of his dicks remained inside of you. Realizing what he was about to do, you stopped writhing in his grasp, relaxing as much as the position allowed. He hissed a thanks into the thin skin above your breastbone. A slight shift of his weight so that all of his coils lay firmly beneath him, and he lowered you almost all the way down onto him. He pressed sweet kisses to the base of your sternum, then each of your nipples, then to the side of your throat. Settling his face into the warm crook of your neck, he began to raise and lower your along his shafts, using your body to fuck himself to completion.

This new position made his cocks reach impossibly deeper inside of you, spines rubbing against that sweet spot with each stroke. You dropped your head forward against Enéas’ shoulder, moaning loudly. With his previous fierce grip on your tortured cock gone, you felt your orgasm begin to build again. Clear pre-cum dripped out of your slick head and smeared between your bodies. He kept bouncing you on him, breath coming out ragged against your neck as he chased after his own climax.

“Holy shit-- that’s so good…”

Your mouth hung open as heat bubbled up in your gut. You tried to warn Enéas again, but all that came out was a strangled gasp of his name before you were cumming between your bodies with a cry. His sharp mouth curved into a grin pressed into the skin of your shoulder as you went boneless in his arms. He kept driving your body down onto himself mercilessly, paying no mind to your limp form. Your eyes filled with tears and drool leaked from your slackened jaw as you were driven to complete overstimulation from him using your body.

“Mmmmhh-hngg....AH!” You moaned desperately, squirming in his arms, trying to get away from the feeling of his cocks inside you that was quickly starting to get painful. Your hole was fluttering erratically around him, and the grip that Enéas had on your hips stuttered, betraying how close he was.

“My prince, I’m…” he managed to grunt out before he pulled you all the way onto his cocks and came inside of you, clutching your body close to his.

His twin dicks twitched against your sensitive walls as thick white cum spilled inside of you. You wailed at the sensation, your own spent cock trying fruitlessly to twitch erect again. Enéas held you against him for several minutes, catching his breath, before he carefully lifted you off of him and laid you down on the now-soiled sheets. The spines on his shafts caught on your puffy rim as he pulled out, making you wince. Your belly was still sticky from your own orgasm, and gobs of Enéas’s cum leaked from your hole, making you feel even filthier. You were completely and utterly fucked-out and content as you lay there in a warm stupor. Cold lips kissed away tears that you hadn’t noticed had fallen, and a hand rubbed comforting circles into the back of your neck. He shifted his body to wrap around you in heavy coils that felt safe and warm, despite his cold blood. You stayed there, cradled against his familiar body, being covered in soft kisses and soothing caresses, until the shaky aftershocks of both of your climaxes dissipated. Once they had, you curled onto your side so that you could nuzzle your face into his scaly neck,

“So?” Enéas whispered into your ear, peppering the side of your face with affectionate pecks. “Did I please you, my prince?”

“Mmm,” you hummed, nibbling on his jaw slightly. “You absolutely did, beloved.”

[nebulablakemurphy]

Miss American Pie

Chapter Three: Bye Bye

Warning: This series features a romantic Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader relationship.

Summary: After freeing the widows from chemical subjugation and destroying the red room, you and Yelena finally settle down.

Part 1 & Part 2

The widows welcome you, the ones you trained with and the ones you didn’t. After Dreykov was gone and you had nothing but time. Melina and Alexei go to work on replicating the antidote. Creating enough to free all chemically subjugated agents.

It’ll take time. But the more you free the more are willing to help. Some of the widows just leave once they are given freedom. Ready to wash their hands of all of this and start living. You understand that more than anything. Eventually the operation is running on such a large scale they hardly need you at all.

Natasha hasn’t reached out since you separated after the red room. Probably off with the Avengers trying to save the world again. No one blames her, for her inability to be still. Not even Yelena.

“So,” you plop down on the couch beside Yelena. “What’s the plan now?”

“I don’t know.” She admits, staring up at the ceiling. “To be honest, I didn’t think I was going to make it this far.”

“Yeah.” You tug at a loose strand of her dirty blonde hair. “That makes two of us.”

“We could pretend to be normal.” Yelena offers. “What would a normal person do?”

“Don’t know,” you shrug. “I’ve never been one.”

“Maybe...settle down.” Yelena’s eyes are far away.

“Would you have wanted to-“ You break off, trying to sort out the words. “I mean if you could…would you have a baby?”

She raises her brows, “I never thought about it.” A long pause. “I wouldn’t know how to be a mother.”

Neither would you. You’ll never be right. Whatever that is, was, or might have been. Always a little too guarded and rough around the edges. “You never waste time thinking about things you can’t have.” You sink farther into the cushions, her pinky skates over your own. Taking the invitation you twine your fingers together.

“I thought about you.” She lowers her eyes to the coffee table. “Everyday. Until I couldn’t anymore.”

“I-“

“The red room took that from me too.”

You shake your head at her. “They can never take anything from you or anyone else ever again,” you whisper. “And to be clear you can have me.”

A laugh rumbles out of her chest at the news. “I can?”

“I mean if you still want me.” You tease, “I know that the chase is half the fun for you. So I can keep on running. I’m one foot out the door-“

“I am tired of running.” Yelena murmurs, curling up against your side.

“Me too.” Your chin rests atop her head.

“Then stop doing it!” She scolds, slapping your arm playfully in retaliation.

“I will if you will.” You know why she runs. The same reason you do. Because you’re afraid. That maybe some parts of you are too broken to love.

She mulls it over for a moment. “Truce. I don’t run. You don’t run.”

“Deal.” You give her fingers a squeeze.

“Except into the face of danger.” She clarifies, only half kidding. “Then we run, straight ahead.” Yelena motions with her free hand. “But together.”

“Together.” You agree, with a soft smile.

“We could get a dog.” The tone of her voice tells you that she is invested in the idea.

“I wouldn’t mind a dog.” You prop your feet up on the coffee table.

Yelena hates anything but a straight answer. Still feeling the need to convince you, she presents the facts. “Dogs are really cool! They have special powers.”

You chuckle, “dogs do not have powers.”

“Yes!” Yelena argues, “they can predict natural disasters and judge character.”

“That’s a special power?” You quip, “I can do that too.”

She grumbles under her breath.

“I want one.” You sigh. Feeling all the tension leave her body.

“I knew you did.” She smiles, contently.

———————————————————————

Dogs might have powers, but the only thing your puppy currently seems to posses is the ability to chew up anything in her path.

“Yelena have you seen my-“ you pause, taking in the scene before you, “shoes.”

“Don’t be angry,” Yelena holds up a hand.

The tiny puppy beside her squeaks, not quite a bark yet. Your demolished sneaker tumbling to the ground.

“What happened?” You run both hands over your face.

She sweeps the dog into her arms. “I told Fanny we could go for a walk once you got out of the shower. She was excited, Y/N! She was trying to bring your shoes to you. But she got distracted, only a little.”

“A little?” You can’t help but smile.

“Look at this face,” Yelena waves Fanny’s paw at you. “You can’t be mad at this face. Tell her girl. Say, you can’t be mad at me Mom, I’m trying my best.” She brings the dog closer.

You raise a hand to pet Fanny lightly. Yelena’s right of course, there is no being mad at that face. “Let me find a pair of shoes that isn’t mangled. Then we’ll go for a walk.”

“I’ll wait with Fanny.”

“Of course you will.” You retreat to your bedroom. Rummaging through the closet in search of some sort of footwear. You’d settle for slippers at this point. Fanny joins you after a moment. Nuzzling at your ankle as she whines.

It’s not everyday that she follows you, she is Yelena’s dog and never lets you forget it. “You’re really excited aren’t you?” More whining. You scoop Fanny up. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

You huff, finally locating a pair of sandals. Slipping them on quickly so you can return to Yelena and gloat about being Fanny’s favorite. “Hey baby, I don’t know what you did, but look.” You smile, gazing up as you present the dog…to an empty room. That’s odd. Maybe she’s waiting outside.

You grab the leash Yelena abandoned on the countertop, securing it to Fanny’s collar. “Come on girl. Let’s go find Mama. Where’s Mama?”

Fanny follows you out the door, onto the walkway.

“Yelena?”

Nothing.

You scan the area, no sign of her. “Ok…” Back into the house, you check the bathroom next.

“Yelena!” You shout, knowing you’ll feel stupid once she replies. But she doesn’t.

A buzzing from the cell phone in your back pocket draws your attention. You set Fanny down gently, accepting the call and moving the device up to your ear. “Alexei?”

“Y/N! Oh thank god!” His voice booms through the speaker.

“Are you ok?” You ask immediately. Leaning down to grab the television remote, turning to channel thirteen, still broadcasting it’s usual gameshow.

“I am alone.” He cries through the speaker. “Melina left me with her pigs.”

“What do you mean she left you?” Something is very wrong.

“She disappeared.” He says somberly, “didn’t even say goodbye. I don’t know what I did to deserve this.” The dramatic monologue continues. “I give her back rub every night and then-“

“No,” you cut him off. “Absolutely not.” Under no circumstance is he going to tell you what happens next.

“I have made mistakes, but this! This is cruel.” Alexei, clearly distraught begins cursing in Russian.

“Alexei, I know you’re upset but I need you to listen.”

“What?” He asks. “What is it?”

“Yelena is gone too.” You inform him. Your eyes flicker over the words at the bottom of your tv screen. “People disappeared all over the world.”

You fall back onto the couch, feeling all the air leave your lungs.

More hysteria on the other end of the line. “What are we going to do?”

“I’m gonna find Natasha. Maybe she knows something.” Assuming that Natasha is still here.

“What about me?”

“Come to Ohio. You can dog sit.” You offer, familiar numbness seeps into your limbs.

“I have nine pigs!” Alexei shouts back.

“We have a backyard, don’t worry.” You hang up before he has a chance to argue.

You return to the call screen. Scrolling to find a different contact. Pressing the dial button beside her name.

It rings. And rings. And rings. “Hello.”

“Natasha,” you let out the breath you’ve been holding. “What the hell happened?”

——————————————————————

The Avengers fortress isn’t exactly how you imagined. Not very homey.

You park your car in the lot. Removing your keys from the ignition and stowing them in your back pocket. The clear rectangular keychain with a picture of you and Yelena inside sticks out. Clinking when you round the vehicle to retrieve Fanny from the passenger seat. “Come on, Fanny.”

She wags her tail, waiting expectantly to be carried.

“You’re spoiled, you know.” You sigh, taking the puppy into your arms and closing the door behind you.

The front gate is open but Natasha takes a moment to locate. She cut her hair up to her shoulders, dyed it blonde. “Hello stranger.”

“You got a dog.” She says, in greeting.

“Yeah.” You reply, not in the mood for small talk. “It was Yelena’s idea.”

“I knew she’d sucker you into that.”

“It’s not like she could make me do anything I didn’t want to.” Your finger slides along the edge of the metal table Natasha’s seated behind.

She barks a laugh, “that’s a lie.”

Maybe so. “Nice place you’ve got here.”

“It’s not mine.”

“Still cool. I like the hair too,” you motion toward her blonde locks.

“That’s not really mine either, is it?” She remarks.

“Is anything ever really ours?”

“No.” She frowns. “I guess not.”

“What happened?” You ask again.

“It’s a long story,” Nat crosses both arms over her chest. “You might want to take a seat.”

You clear your throat, pulling out the chair beside her. Fanny curls up in your lap, curious eyes darting about every now and then. You tell yourself it’s because she’s in a new place, but part of you knows, she’s looking for Yelena.

Natasha stares down at her hands. “Have you ever heard of infinity stones?”

You shake your head. “Must be an avenger thing.”

“There were six of them, scattered all over the galaxy. If a person has all six they can use them in anyway they choose. Thanos, used them to eliminate half of all living creatures.”

“Are you the only one left?” You lean in.

“No.” She sniffs, blinking away tears. “There’s others.”

“So where are they?” The place looks abandoned. “Why aren’t you charging into battle?”

“Because we lost. Probably the worst we’ve ever lost.” Natasha clenches her jaw. “By the time we found Thanos again he already destroyed the stones.”

“We’ll try again.” You decide immediately. This isn’t over.

“Will we?” Natasha shakes her head with a smirk.

“If she was gone for good I would know it.” You tell her truthfully. “I would feel it, in my heart and I don’t.”

“You didn’t see it happen. I saw him snap his fingers and-“

You lay your hand over hers, squeezing tight.

“Did you see her go?” She asks, voice just above a whisper. “Yelena. Did you see her?”

“No.” You confess, “I didn’t see.”

Natasha closes her eyes. “That’s why you still have hope.”

“Look maybe you’re right.” You shrug, “even so, now seems like a really stupid time to give up.”

The corner of her mouth twitches. “What’s the dog’s name?”

“Fanny.” You inform her.

“Come on.” She rolls her blue eyes. “You’re kidding right? Tell me you didn’t actually name a dog after one of those stupid aliases Rick made me.”

“Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

“I guess a dog’s better than a pig.” Natasha reasons. “Are they still here?”

“Not Melina.” You break the news quickly. Like tearing off a bandage. “But Alexei and all nine of her pigs are on their way to our house in Ohio.”

“Sounds crowded.”

“Always room for one more.”

——————————————————————

You stay like that for a long time. Hopeful. Sure that this was all some nightmare that you could wake up from; fight your way out of.

And then five years passed.

Now you come to see Natasha twice a month, just to check in. Alexei and his pigs have taken up permanent residency in the home you bought with Yelena. As for you, you bounce around. Never staying in one place too long.

“Any news?” You wonder, leaning against the doorframe of Natasha’s meeting room.

“No.” She bites out. Kicking her foot up on the desk. “You should move on.”

“Is that what you call this?” You flick your wrist in her direction. “Crying into a peanut butter sandwich.”

“It’s therapeutic.” She waves the bread at you. Tears welled up in her eyes. “You should try it sometime.”

“Nah.” You take a seat, reaching across to make a sandwich of your own. “It’s not the sandwich’s fault.”

“Am I interrupting the pity party?” Steve says, announcing his presence. Captain America is as self righteous as ever.

“Didn’t you grieve for a century over a girl you kissed one time?” You arch a brow at him, licking wayward peanut butter from the pad of your thumb. “Five years is just a drop in the bucket.”

Steve purses his lips, you have a point. “It wasn’t a century.”

“Close enough.” You mumble around a mouthful of your dinner.

“Want a bite?” Natasha offers half of her sandwich to him.

“No thanks.” He takes a step closer. “I’d offer to make you a real dinner, but already look pretty miserable. Where’s your dog?”

“Visiting her granddad.” Everyone and their mother loves that damn dog.

“Oh yeah, my great adversary.” How could he ever forget. “Is he still wearing that stupid suit?”

“I’m pretty sure the suits are stowed away. But it’s been a while since I’ve been there.” Your mind wanders to the vest. The one Natasha returned to you after Yelena was gone. The one you retired because it doesn’t smell like her anymore. Nothing does.

Most things remain untouched in the Ohio house. Your pictures. Your memories. Your plans. You can’t get rid of them. Can’t stomach being around them either.

Someone, a man, alerts the security cameras, pounding on the front door. “Hello? Is anyone home? Hello! Can you hear me?”

“How old is this video?” Steve asks, cocking his head to the side.

“It’s the front gate.” Natasha breathes, enlarging the image.

“Do we know him?” You squint at the man in question.

“It’s me, Scott Lang, Antman. I met you guys at the airport in Germany a few years ago. I had a mask on, you probably wouldn’t recognize me.” He rambles on.

Natasha presses the access panel, opening the gate.

You straighten yourselves out, before he makes it down the long hallway into the common room.

Scott paces, a lot. Nervously rubbing his hands together.

“Scott.” Steve finally cut in. “Are you ok?”

“Have any of you ever studied quantum physics?”

“Only to make conversation.” Nat says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Ok. Alright so, five years ago. Right before Thanos. I was in the quantum realm. The quantum realm is like it’s own little microscopic universe. To get in there you have to be incredibly small. Hope, she’s my uh-“ he trails off. “She was my…she was- she was supposed to pull me out. And then Thanos happened and I got stuck in there.”

“I’m sorry that must have been a long five years.” Natasha apologies.

“That’s the thing, for me it wasn’t.” Scott replies. “It was five hours.”

“What a trip.” You snort, absently toying with your belt loop.

“The rules of time are different there. See everything is unpredictable.” He explains, getting distracted by the food in your hand. “Are you gonna finish that?”

“I guess not.” You hold it out to him.

He accepts, gratefully stuffing the bread into his mouth.

“Scott! What are you talking about?” Steve demands.

“So what I’m saying is time works differently in the quantum realm. The only problem is we don’t have a way to navigate it. But if we did, if we could somehow control the chaos; to enter the quantum realm at a certain point in time and exit at another point in time…like,” Scott locks eyes with you then. “Like before Thanos.”

You nod.

“Are you talking about a time machine?” Steve sighs, running a hand over his tense forehead.

“No. No of course not. Not like a time machine but like a…yeah.” There’s no other word for it. “Like a time machine. I know it’s crazy. But I can’t stop thinking about it! There gotta be some way.”

“Scott,” Natasha calls his attention. “I get emails from a raccoon. So nothing sounds crazy to me anymore.”

“So who do we talk to about this?” His eyes flicker between the three of you.

“Don’t look at me.” You hold both hands up. “That’s way above my pay grade.”

Part 4

Series Taglist: @3and30aresoultwins

[thesunicarusfellfor]

My beloved! I do not know if you watched the recent lore stream ( if you haven't please! Watch it before answering my ask! ) I was wondering if you could do something with eret and foolish where instead of foolish dying it's the reader? And the reader is on her last life after she died from badboyhalo? Just some angst ( please I wanna cry out my feelings after this stream omg- and plus your my favorite writer so yea :p)

Have an amazing day! <3

-Moosh

BELOVED! EEEEEEE I'VE BEEN WANTING TO WRITE ERET FOR SOOOOO LOOOOONG YOU HAVE NO IDEA. I'm just going to make it an Eret x Reader because I don't know Foolish's character too well if that's okay?

(ALso, you will make me cry from all these compliments, please ;^;)

I actually am adding onto this because I want to make a hybrid reader for once, hope you don't mind! ^^

SPOILERS FOR THE RED BANQUET AND MULTIPLE PRONOUNS USED FOR ERET

My Monarch (C!Eret x GN!Butterfly Hyrbid!Reader)

You giggled softly, your beautiful paper-thin wings flitting behind you as you hopped around Eret's room while he got his newly tailored red cloak chained together, "My goodness, monarch, you're going to waste up all your energy before the party even begins!" He laughed at your reddened cheeks while he put his crown on top of his neatly styled hair, putting his sunglasses on shortly after, "How do I look?"

"Like a true queen!" You chirped, adjusting your outfit in the mirror beside your lover before frowning and taking the glasses away from her, "Ah, ah, nope. If I'm having my wings out of my cloak, you aren't wearing your sunglasses, darling, we've been over this."

The royal huffed and gave a small pout but didn't argue much on the matter, as they did, in fact, practically beg you to keep your wings out for display for the banquet. With a small chuckle, they reached over and picked up your crown that was decorated with rainbows of jewels, placing it on your styled (h/l) (h/c) hair, being mindful of your antennae, "There... There's my monarch."

You blushed slightly at the nickname and gave a small giggle as you took his hand, "Come on, let's get going, Bad will get impatient if we're late." Eret gave a nod with a smile, leading you towards the door and out of his castle.

The two of you were happily chatting with each other as you travelled to the stairway that led underground, happily saying hellos to your 'mama' Puffy, who gave you typical motherly affection, ie: smooshing your cheeks as she gave you a light headbutt while calling you every motherly compliment in the book, and anyone else that was also invited to the Banquet. When you arrived, you took a sharp breath as you saw the room filled with red vines crawling and writhing everywhere, it sickened you... But, this was about Bad apologizing, and you supposed that you could put your discomfort off to the side for just a little bit.

Eret, being the gentleman she was, pulled out your chair for you and gestured for you to sit down, smiling softly as you gave her a kiss on the cheek and sat down in the chair. She pushed you in and sat in the chair to your left, Puffy on your right, gently taking your hand once she was tucked into the table.

You were so anxious that you could barely focus on the speech Bad was giving, until your ears and antennae picked up the sound and scent of running lava which successfully shook you out of your thoughts, but before you could mention anything to Eret, you heard a chuckle.

"Now, prepare to die."

There was a chorus of gasps that tore from everyone's mouths as the sound of lava got louder. You lifted your head from staring at the red soup in the bowl in front of you and looked around in horror as you saw lava blocking the exits. You felt Eret tighten their grip on your hand, but by then your heart was already racing in fear and your wings were shifting around nervously.

"Oh my god!"

"We've been walled in!"

"After all that?!"

Bad tossed his empty glass bottle to the side, causing it to shatter on the ground below and get greedily grabbed at by the red vines, "Well uh, that's right."

"Bad, what about turning over this leaf?!" Captain Puffy snapped, slamming her mostly empty bottle of water down on the table as she stood up.

The nine-foot-tall demon seemed to nonchalantly brush off her outburst and shook his head lamely, "No, the leaf is staying the way it is." He sat up properly in his chair and rested his elbows on the warped wooden table to hold his chin in his hands.

"Is... There any way out?" You asked aloud, quickly spinning around, looking for any gap that you could possibly fly through. Eret quickly wrapped his arm around you, his white eyes wide with slight hints of fear that he was used to hiding with his glasses.

"No! There's literally no way out!" Fundy cried out, restlessly shuffling and running around, trying to find anything everyone could use to escape.

HBomb gave a small shriek of pain as he burned his hand on the lava, "It is real lava! It is real lava!" He gasped out as Puffy quickly made him shove his hand into the bowl of beat soup. Bad calmly walked over and gave him a glimmering gold apple with a sickly sweet smile.

"You should try not to die yet, HBomb." He chuckled softly as he returned to his seat once the man eagerly bit into the potion soaked fruit, desperate to get rid of the burning sensation.

Puffy took a few deep breaths and held out her arms, trying to get everyone to stop freaking out completely, "We're fine, we're fine, we're fine! I- I didn't trust you, Bad, I didn't trust you at all. I didn't trust Antfrost. I knew! I knew something was up, it's unfortunate to say I can't trust either one of you... Because... I planned this..."

She eagerly ripped off the red silken table cloth to reveal a chest buried in the table, spilling drinks and soup everywhere for the vines to eagerly writhe towards, "Oh?! What?!" Bad gasped, his mouth parting in shock... Before it fell bad into a devious smile as Puffy gave a cry of confusion, finding the chest completely empty, "Oh? Were you... Looking for this, perchance?"

Bad equipped diamond enchanted armour and held up an enchanted diamond sword that glimmered in the light of the lava, Ant, Ponk... And Hannah... Doing the same, "Sorry Puffy. I had to do it..." Hannah Rose walked over and sat in the empty seat on Bad's left.

"Do... What, Hannah? Why?!" The Ram hybrid whispered in horror.

"I had to tell them." She responded simply, blinking a few times as her eyes went from a forest coloured green to redder than the colour of the egg's vines slithering around your ankles, "The egg..."

Biting back a sob, you looked at Hannah, "You were with them the whole time...?"

Sam stood completely still, looking at the girl sadly, "You... Told them, Hannah?" The warden murmured.

"I had to." She glanced at Bad with a small grin before looking back at her former friends, including you, "It was the only way."

"I'm sorry," Bad started, sounding almost completely genuine, if it wasn't for the crooked smile he was wearing, "I'm sorry Sam, I'm sorry Puffy. But, time to get on to the main event!"

The creeper hybrid held up his hand, pointing one finger to the ceiling to silently tell the Eggpire to hold on for just a moment, "Well... That is, tragic, that you told them about our plans for the armour, but..." You could tell Sam grinned behind his mask as his green eyes gave a few sparks of smugness, "Something, you should know. I had another plan. Because I didn't trust you."

"...What do you mean 'another plan'?" Bad pointed his loaded crossbow at the warden, eyes narrowing into a glare.

"Well," He pulled a remote out of his pocket and scanned it in mock curiosity, "I think, that we all can agree, that this has gone on long enough now. I'm tired of all this fighting. So I say we just blow the egg up. For good, this time, with an amount of TNT that it can't survive... So I hid a trap..."

'Of course... The creeper hybrid is using TNT...' You thought with a small smile, trying to distract yourself from the heartstopping fear overwhelming your body at the moment as Bad stuttered in surprise.

"A trap?! Wait, what do you mean!?" the demon growled as Sam got up and walked slightly closer to the egg, digging his thumb into the button on the remote he held.

"We did something even you couldn't prepare for!" Puffy shouted as TNT began to rain out of a small gap in the ceiling.

Eret, worrying for your safety and how the sounds or smell of gunpowder would affect your hypersensitive senses, pulled you close and she wrapped you in her cloak. You desperately grasped at the fabric of her red dress as she covered your ears in an attempt to make the loud booms easier for your insect senses to handle.

By the time it stopped and Eret let you go, there were shocked gasps and the egg... Had... Turned to crying obsidian? "You guys-" Bad had to take a breath through his maniacal laughter to wipe a tear, "You really thought you could defeat the egg? With TNT? After Quackity tried that, we took proper... Preparations. And we made it so that we wouldn't have to worry about TNT anymore, thank you very much!"

"I think you mean precautions..." You murmured quietly, curling in on yourself and hiding behind Eret slightly when you saw soulless white eyes glare in your directions.

"Shut up, (Y/n)." He huffed, and Eret had to physically stop Puffy from storming over and fighting the man in diamond armour with her bare hands, "Now, would you all please kindly make your way over here... We can begin the summary executions."

Shock flooded through your veins at how eagerly Bad hopped out of his chair them walked over to where the Egg, the crying obsidian fading away, and standing on a platform. There was a chorus of shocked cries and just cries in general as Bad waved his crossbow around, "What about the speeches man?!" Fundy growled, glaring at Bad as he tried to get you all to leave the table.

"Oh, that was all just to lull you into a false sense of security!" He responded with another crooked smile and a 'duh' tone, "You see, the egg needs something, and it's gonna get it from each of you. See, in order for the egg to hatch, it needs energy, and it gets that energy from people dying near it! And that's the role that you guys are gonna fill! We are gonna kill you one by one..."

"You're a monster..." Eret mumbled under their breath, holding your hand tightly, able to feel your racing heart from the pulse in your wrist. This had gone on long enough, sure, destroying everything on the server was one thing, but threatening not only their life, not only their friends' lives, but their lover's life as well! You only had two more before you were gone from this world forever... And by whatever gods were listening, they swore that they were going to protect those final two, even at the risk of their own life.

Bad turned his head, his twisted smile faltering slightly, "What was that, Eret? What did you say?" He leaned closer mockingly, to see if Eret really had the guts to repeat what was just said.

"You're an absolute monster," Eret repeated with a slight growl to his voice this time, taking a step closer to the corrupted man as a threat and also effectively blocking you from Bad's gaze, "How could you? We all trusted you, Bad."

"Trust?!" Ant spoke up for the first time that night, grinning almost like a Cheshire cat, "Okay, Eret... Keep talking. Keep talking about trust."

Sucking a breath through your gritted teeth, you cringed as Ant retorted with a verbal dagger, one he knew would hurt Eret deeply, and hurt her it did, "That was a long time ago!" You snapped immediately, stepping forwards to defend her which definitely caught everyone off guard. You were NOT about to let some egg puppets trash talk your lover, "She's changed!"

"You know what..." Bad hummed, almost comically tapping his finger to his lip before pointing at Eret, "I think, Eret, you would be a perfect person... To sacrifice first!"

Giving a cry of horror, you felt the red vines react to Bad's words and grab you and Eret, successfully yanking you away from each other despite your cries and struggles of protests. The large vines picked Eret up and brought them to the execution platform that Bad was standing on. The entire time, you were trying to run over to grab them, but the vines kept creating a wall and pushing you back, "No! No, no, no!" You screamed desperately, trying to reach out to the crown-wearing lover that was now being held on the platform by the very vines that were holding you back.

"Does anyone have anything?!" Foolish cried, quickly patting his pockets and looking around for anything, anything at all, to use as a weapon.

"I- We have no weapons!"

"No one has anything?! We literally can't do anything about this!"

Bad only chuckled, seeming to find amusement in everyone's distress, "Excellent, excellent, I really appreciate you guys following the directive and not bringing any weapons. That's very courteous of you." He turned towards Eret with his readied crossbow, gleefully ignoring your cries.

"We trusted you!" You yelled, throwing a useless punch at the wall of vines that blocked your way again, everyone roaring at the Eggpire in agreement with your statement.

"Well that was your first mistake," He chided in almost a playful manner, "Did you really think we were just going to stop trying to spread the egg's influence over the server, just because a couple people got mad at the vines? Like, come on. That's been the objective all along. It's been to hatch the egg. The egg wants power, and it's gonna get it."

His finger lightly began tapping at the trigger of his crossbow that had the bolt pointing to your lover's head, which caused a sob to escape past your lips as you finally had enough and finally flew into the air, expertly weaving past the red vines that tried to grab you out of the air. Quickly, you swooped down and reached out for Eret, but you felt something fly past your ear... Then suddenly, the king gave a cry of his own and you felt your flying balance get thrown off, causing you to begin to plummet towards the ground.

The horrified shrieks of your lover, mother figure and your friends rang through your ears as you quickly plummeted towards the earth as a result of gravity, only to be suddenly halted in mid-air which caused your crown to fall to the ground, completely wrapped in vines that clearly didn't care how badly they were bending your wings. You whined in pain at the tight grip, and looked over at your beloved butterfly features, only to give a sob of pain as you saw a large tear had sliced through your right (f/c) wing... "You... You bastard..." You hissed at the demon who came over and reloaded another bolt into his crossbow.

"You know, I think I like your energy more than your lover's." He cupped your chin in an almost loving fashion, causing Eret to immediately lash out and begin barking insults as well as threats. Unfortunately, her violence was ignored as the vines picked her up again, "Your unwavering loyalty, your love, your fierceness despite how fragile you are..."

"Get your hands away from them!" Puffy yelled, she and Foolish going to run to help you, but they were blocked off by the vines in the same way you once were, "For fucks sake Bad! Leave my child alone! They were just defending Eret, you know, their lover?!"

Bad only hummed as the vines lamely tossed Eret to the crowd of people, but thankfully he was caught by Foolish and Sam instead of hitting the ground but his crown hit the ground close to yours, breaking most of the rainbow coloured gems off, "I'm quite aware of their relationship, thank you, Puffy." He stepped back and the vines threw you to the ground on the execution platform, causing you to bounce off the nether bricks harshly before finally rolling into the centre.

Your head was spinning and your sight was blurry, but you still managed to hear the screams of terror from your friends, the begging from Puffy for Bad to leave you alone, and the sobs leaving Eret's throat as they cried out for you, "Monarch... (Y/N)!" They screamed, trying to run to you as well, but unsurprisingly they were held back as well.

It... was funny... You wanted to go to this party so badly... You begged Eret to come to this party, you spent weeks picking out your outfit... You were so excited...

And now here you were... Flightless and beyond concussed...

About to die...

"I love you..." You managed to whisper to Eret before Ant rose his enchanted sword... Then quickly lowering it, piercing through your chest...

"(Y/N)! NO!"

(Y/n) (L/n) was slain by Antfrost. Lives 1/3

[sylverstorms]

Cassandra x Maiden----Anonymity Ch.3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Your quiet days in castle Dimitrescu met their end the moment Cassandra took an interest in you.

You should have known. Perhaps you did know and just didn’t want to admit it.

The woman –vampire, mutant, what even are they— is a bipolar sadist.

One night she may be walking down the halls sending you a sexy wink under her hood as she passes you by, the next she could show up out of nowhere and cut you ‘hello’ with her sickle, scoop up the blood with her thumb to taste, then disappear again. The evening after that, she may not even give a damn about you, may not spare you a single fleeting glance, like even the notion you could be worth her time is laughable.

And it is, isn’t it.

Humans are nothing to them. Your significance is below that of a pet. You may as well be livestock. It doesn’t matter, though, so long as you continue to breathe and remain intact. They’re the two essential factors to escaping. All else is secondary.

It doesn’t matter how Cassandra views you.

You don’t even like her.

What is there to even be drawn to? She’s covered in blood more often than not. The scent of iron usually drowns out her perfume. She’s capricious and cruel and the living personification of an unsheathed knife. You prefer your routes safer. Playful, creative pretty girls that are good for you and most importantly, sane.

Whatever weird tricks your brain and hormones are playing where she stars –you hate it, what is wrong with you— they’re just delusions, you reason, born from her questionable flirting and your time in captivity. It’s just a really bothersome case of Stockholm Syndrome you’re developing. And it has to stop.

Another week passes. You don’t see her.

You are on another night shift when you hear the telltale buzzing of insects down the corridor. Hervoice reaches your ear afterwards;

“Ugh, Bela, you never complain about anything. It’s so annoying.” Two pairs of heels steadily tap towards you.

“I leave it to you and Dani to cover for me, since you complain about everything.” The quieter sister drawls. You can easily picture her roll her eyes as she says it.

“You know, you really should sound more thankful I came with you in this unearthly cold.”

“I gave you the option not to—”

“Just to have you rummage through that bookshop for what was definitely the most boring twenty minutes of my life.” Cassandra continues.

From the fleeting glance you steal at them, the entirety of her attention is on Bela. You don’t think she’ll notice you as you continue polishing the corridor’s decorations. It’s just another one of these nights where you don’t exist and you’re deeply glad for it. Not just for yourself, but also the other maids.

“I thought I was going to die of frostbite.” she growls, shaking the elder sister’s arm.

“Technically, you can’t.” Bela shakes hers back.

It would be… cute, if they were any normal family. But you are quick to remind yourself of what they really are. Devils in human form. Monsters that took you from your home and trapped you here, to clean after their mess, with the threat of death looming over your head every second.

Their steps pass you by. You can almost breathe normally again, when—

Cassandra stops.

“Not even going to tell me hello?” The hurt in her voice can’t be genuine, you tell yourself as you turn around to face her. She’s closer than you thought, enough for you to be able to make out the tiny melting snowflakes caught in her long lashes.

“Um—hello.” you say, awkwardly.

“Cassandra.” Bela lets out a soft sigh.

“Bye, Bela.” The brunette pointedly speaks over her shoulder.

And to your horror… “Just keep in mind what mother said about the maids.” the eldest sister leaves you alone with her.

Each further step until the blonde disappears from view fills you with dread. Cassandra has that spark in her eye that you’ve learned to not associate with anything good. She’s completely still until she’s sure the two of you won’t be overheard or interrupted.

Then, she moves.

Her hands all too easily shove you against the wall. It’s more startling than painful, you realize, when your back doesn’t protest much at the collision.

Cassandra maintains eye contact with you as she tugs at the fingers of her gloves. You cannot fathom why it looks that sexy, the way she pulls them off, whether it is intentional or not.

“Plaything.” she says. Another new nickname for you. Not that you ever expected her to care to know your name. “I’m terribly cold.” she doesn’t seem to be lying, though the soft pout that curves her mouth is surely for effect.

It’s a test and your wellbeing depends on it.

Only, you have no idea what you’re supposed to do. Ruling your nerves under control, you decide to start slow. “Shall I light the fireplace in your room, my lady?”

“Maybe I want something more… immediate.” she replies, raising her hand to your neck.

The second her freezing skin touches your flesh, you cannot help but flinch. It feels like a slightly softer block of ice. Cassandra’s eyes creak at the corners. Of course, the sadist is enjoying your torment. Slowly, her fingers move under the collar of your black button-up shirt, which only makes it worse. The cold spreads, a peculiar tingle at your stomach with it.

“Well?” she asks. You get the memo that just sitting back and letting her have her way isn’t going to work, this time. You call upon all the willpower you possess and act.

Carefully, your hands rise to meet her own. You aren’t looking at her in the eyes –you don’t think you could— as your fingers wrap around hers and bring them in front of you, close to your body, warmed from hours of work. Instead, your gaze locks on the golden jewel decorating the chocker at her throat, before falling down, to your point of contact.

It is not the first time you see her hands without gloves on, but it only now hits you just how dainty they look. Her nails, filed round, are dyed a darker shade of crimson, stark against the white of her skin. There isn’t a single blemish or uneven spot you can feel on her palm. It is a princess’ hand you seem to be holding, not a killer’s.

But appearances can be deceiving.

The very corner of Cassandra’s lip curls up, amused or pleased or both. She then reaches forward, at the lowest clasped button of your shirt… and frees it open. You’re sure you aren’t breathing. Two more buttons are released. Her fingers, at least now considerably warmer, splay against your stomach. Something inside you quivers like a flickering candlefire.

You don’t want her touch.

But a traitorous, weak part of you has already decided that it does.

“You work out?” it is merely a whisper between you. She presses a little closer, entirely unashamed to be feeling the contours of your middle up while you’re burning with embarrassment.

“…probably the days of working in the fields.” you say, voice low because it cannot be trusted any higher. She’s doing a little thing with her thumb over your skin that you desperately want to deny turns you on.

Thanks to her you’re now freezing and burning at the same time.

Cassandra just stays like that for a few more seconds.

“Draw me a hot bath.” she eventually orders and extracts herself from you as if she’s not remotely happy with her own decision.

-

-

You don’t really know how she likes her bath and she doesn’t tell you.

All you can do as you test the water on your hand is pray. Your mind isn’t really working right after the touching at the hallway, but your survival instincts are strong still. Strong enough to remind you that Cassandra likes to be treated like royalty above all, so bubbles are your best friend in this. The more, the merrier.

The Dimitrescu daughter does not ask if the bath is ready when she comes in. You aren’t used to her being so silent, so you turn to see if something is wrong –but immediately regret it when the heavy robe clinging to her body drops down. The only glimpse you catch is of the fabric pooling at her feet like a shadow.

Your eyes stay glued on the queen-sized bathtub, even when she approaches. They turn to the side as she enters it.

You want to ask if the water is fine, but you can’t find your voice. You lose even your train of thought when she lets out a small hiss as she sinks in, replaced by a moan once she’s completely settled back, neck tilted and eyes closed in bliss. The polite thing is to let her bathe in peace, so you move to do just that.

Cassandra has other plans.

Her hand shoots out of the tub to wrap around your wrist, inescapable as an iron shackle. Those intense yellowish eyes are on you again and they seem to be glowing under the dim lights.

“No.” she says. “Massage. Now.”

Ah, great. You think. You’ve spoiled her. But if giving Cassandra massages is what is going to keep your hands attached to your body, you won’t complain. It’s just that… you can’t really focus right now. None of your thoughts are right or remotely what they should be. You need time off from her, rather than touching her.

Thankfully, the moans are kept to a minimum and there is no teasing. She is utterly relaxed, only giving the occasional command for higher or lower. It does kind of kill you when at one point she whispers “Right there.” but you are able to move past it.

You leave fresh towels beside her when you’re finally allowed to leave. Back in her bedroom, you light the fireplace in a way that you make sure will last through the day, while she’ll be asleep. The plan is to leave before she returns, but she’s already there by the time you’re finished with the preparations.

And –you’re trapped.

Because, again, she’s changing and you have to look away to preserve your sanity and probably your eyes. “No peeping, now.” she calls over her shoulder. You know better than to dare.

You keep your hands busy arranging bottles and boxes at her vanity until she’s done. Cassandra does that ‘flashing’ thing where she’s on one side of the room one moment and right behind you the next. You only then notice a little insect flying back into her form. It was spying on you.

“You didn’t even look near me, huh.” she says it like ‘congratulations, you passed’, but there’s a bitter undertone of disappointment in her voice.

She’s only feeling down that you didn’t give her an excuse to slice at your face, you think. Then again, does she really need one?

“I wouldn’t, my lady.” you assure. “If I may be excused—”

“Did I say you can go?” she turns you around, none-too-gently, her hands on your biceps tight. You’re effectively pinned against her and the vanity, but you have much bigger problems to worry about, when you take in what she’s wearing.

Cassandra is clad in a flimsy nightrobe that leaves little to the imagination, the fabric nearly see-through. You can see the edges of her lacy underwear underneath it, how nicely it sits against her perfect curves. To make matters even worse, the robe ends at about mid-thigh and your eye catches the expanse of creamy skin on display.

Your brain nearly melts.

“I don’t know what it is about you, plaything, but you’re working up my appetite.” she confesses, pressing into you, pressing you harder into the furniture. You try to think of literally anything else than how well her thigh is slotted between your legs.

If you’re supposed to look away from her lidded eyes, however, you can’t. And if you’re not supposed to feel the echo of her nails on your arm all the way down to your center, you can’t. You are definitely not supposed to be so achingly curious about her bow-shaped lips. But you just can’t.

“You’re working me up.” she breathes, so close you can feel the ghost of her lower lip on yours.

And then –her mouth is on you and you forget how to breathe. Your eyes close and just feel, instead. If this is how you die, maybe it isn’t such a bad way to go. It’s been too long since you kissed anyone, seems like ages ago now, but you gradually remember how to move once you allow your muscles to unlock.

Not looking at her makes it easier. Her lips are balmy and smooth and slide so good on your own you can’t think at all, much less of what she’s capable of. You would have guessed her to be aggressive, but Cassandra is oddly hesitant, the only thing hard about her being her grip.

You’re not sure what you’re doing or how you get so bold, but your hands trail up to her waist and pull her in. The little hitch in her breath threatens to break you. It provides the perfect opening to part her lips with your tongue. As soon as it touches hers, she moans low in her throat and slowly drags her hips against your thigh.

Oh. God.

There’s a hollow ache in your stomach. You’re shamefully wet for her. The voice of reason is mute in your head, until you’re forced to break your liplock to breathe and it only then hits you what you’ve just done.

Cassandra’s lips are insistent on your jawline, on the vulnerable spot under your ear. Her open-mouthed kisses are just hard enough, at first, but then start to border on painful. Your heart skips a beat when you feel the press of teeth, yet she rips herself off of you before she bites down.

“Ugh. I’m… so thirsty.” she says it lightly, but her voice is hoarse and something about her body language gives you the impression she’s hurting. “You should leave. Fast.”

You almost make the mistake of reaching for her. Almost.

Cassandra turns away from the temptation of your veins.

For both your sakes –mostly for yours— you hurry out of her room and never stop to look back.

[beca-mitchell]

little taste of heaven (i'm caught up in you) (1/1)

Summary: now i see daylight AU - Beca and Chloe’s first date, finally. 

Word count: 3.9k

For @anna-kendrick​: We've worked on this universe for the past year and holy, it means the world to both of us that you guys love Beca and Chloe as much as we do. Thank you so much for the encouragement and love, always.And of course, again, thank you to Josi who is an incredibly talented artist. Look at this art.

title from "untouchable (taylor's version)" though I did heavily consider using "our song"...i just liked the energy of untouchable a bit more.

Read below or on AO3!

* * * * *

AGE: 15/16 LOCATION: Brookline, MA MONTH: June

 * * * * *

 It is finally June. The warm air is only a hint of better things to come. Like the last day of school before total freedom.

Beca smiles at Chloe as she nears Beca’s locker. “Hey,” she greets. “Good practice?”

Around them, students mill about excitedly, cleaning out their lockers and making plans for the summer to come. Chloe shrugs, hair clearly still damp from her shower. “I don’t know why we keep running through practices when we have no more games for the season.”

“Got to keep the regional champions in top shape,” Beca teases. “Keep the other teams on their toes.”

“But I’m tired,” Chloe complains. She leans heavily on a neighboring locker. “Since it's the last day of school, will you come over tonight for dinner? My parents are whining about how they haven’t seen you in a while.”

Beca clears her throat, thinking about how the last time she had gone over to Chloe’s house had been when Chloe and Tom broke up...at the end of April. Over a month ago. She had gone because Chloe had been crying and upset. She had gone because even if her body ached with the anxiety of not knowing where she and Chloe stood, she and Chloe were always going to be friends first. Best friends.

Best friends who felt something more than friendship for each other. Confirmed, real feelings. Feelings that made them want to kiss each other.

Feelings that they hadn’t yet talked about. Or acted on despite both of them being extremely single at the moment.

Hell, Chloe's birthday came and went a couple weeks ago without much fanfare. Beca had been too shy to do anything remotely romantic and they ended up going to a movie with a few friends before going to an arcade.

“Bec?”

Beca nods stiltedly, pretending to contemplate her now-empty locker a bit more before turning to face Chloe. She steadies herself with a quick breath. “I’d love nothing more.”

 * * * * *

 Beca stares at her reflection with some trepidation.

“It’s just Chloe,” she mutters to herself, eyes tracking over every crease in the skirt she has picked out. Maybe I should go with jeans, she thinks. But it’s gross and hot out today.

She isn’t even sure why she’s nervous. It just feels like a return to normalcy of sorts, but Beca’s pretty sure that now that she knows what it feels like to kiss Chloe and what it feels like, a little bit at least, to know that Chloe feels somewhat similarly to her. It’s different. In a good way. Maybe it’s different in a scary way.

She isn’t even sure she can bring up the topic with her mother, so that’s an added layer of uncertainty: it’s additionally anxiety-inducing not knowing how her mother will react.

It’s well past the time that Beca should have already walked out the door to head next door by the time she actually forces herself out of her bedroom and down the stairs, but she figures Chloe will understand. And dinner is rarely ever prepared at the exact time stated in the Beale household anyway. Beca’s not too worried. Just nervous.

She finally reaches out to press the doorbell.

Chloe opens the door almost immediately. “Thought you got lost,” she teases.

“Were you just waiting behind the door?” Beca asks quickly, allowing Chloe to grab her wrist and pull her over the threshold.

“And if I was?” Chloe shoots back, offering Beca a lazy smile, playful in nature. With an underlying hint of something else.

Beca blinks the surprise away. “I wouldn’t be complaining if you were waiting for me. Just sorry I kept you waiting,” she offers.

“Dinner’s not ready anyway,” Chloe says, as Beca expected. They breeze past the living room area, taking a mild detour past the kitchen and towards the back porch. “I might have told you a slightly earlier time because I wanted to talk to you about something,” Chloe says lightly.

“Should I say hi to your parents?” Beca asks worriedly before it registers what Chloe just said. “Wait, what? Talk to me about what?”

“Come sit with me,” Chloe says instead. Patiently. She gestures towards the tree - the tree they used to play under all the time as children - nestled in the corner of the backyard.

It’s one of Beca’s favorite spots.

She follows Chloe, wondering if it’s too late to run home and change into her jeans because she’s sure the grass and sticks will prick at her skin, but she’s surprised, as they near, that there is a small blanket laid out underneath.

Chloe had planned for this.

“Please sit,” Chloe offers. She sits comfortably, patting the spot next to her. “I had a feeling you’d dress up a little. Didn’t want you to get a dress dirty.” Her eyes drift down to Beca’s skirt briefly before she lifts her eyes, smiling at Beca. Beca doesn’t feel self-conscious, shockingly. She feels content. Safe.

Maybe a little warm if anything, but she knows that’s probably the proximity to the girl she’s been crushing on for the longest time.

“I...wanted to talk to you because we haven’t...really talked. About...y’know.” A hint of nervousness creeps into Chloe’s voice. “When we kissed and then Tom…” she hesitates. “We just didn’t get to talk about anything. And now the school year’s pretty much over, so I thought…”

“Right,” Beca agrees quickly. Her palms begin to sweat. She sure as hell hopes Chloe doesn’t expect her to lead this conversation. It was mortifying enough the first time around when she had basically laid everything on the line while Chloe was still dating somebody else. When Chloe had left her with nothing more than a heartfelt, vulnerable don’t give up on me. Then she had broken up with Tom and that was all their school could talk about for weeks.

And now this. Somehow Beca survived all of that while slowly making sure her friendship with Chloe survived as well. They both made sure of that.

“I like you,” Chloe declares. “I mean...I think I always did. Like you, I mean. As more than a friend. But the feelings were really confusing.”

“I get it,” Beca says a little too quickly. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs, laughing a little when Chloe smiles at her. “I feel like I haven’t stopped thinking about this for a while. But I never wanted you to feel pressured to talk about this with me even though we kissed.” She ignores the way her voice totally cracks over that last word.

“I never felt pressured,” Chloe assures her gently. “I am so...grateful that you’re in my life. I didn’t want to mess this up. But I think we should...try.”

“Try?” Beca echoes.

Chloe blushes. Like a full-on blush that spreads across her cheeks, visible to Beca even in the dying daylight. It makes her cheeks rosy and Chloe even flinches at her own reaction. “Dating,” she says simply once she seems to regain control of her emotions. “I want to go on dates with you. And hold your hand. And more kissing! If that’s what you want.”

Beca’s sure that her heart explodes somewhere in her chest because she suddenly finds it very difficult to control various parts of her body. She can’t control the smile that spreads across her face and the following, matching blush in her cheeks. It heats through her face with ease. And even worse, she can’t control the way her hand comes up to her mouth as if to instinctively cover her smile because somehow being thrilled that her crush is basically asking her out making her body react in embarrassing ways.

Chloe laughs at her, not a hint of malice in her laugh. Just joy. “I take that as a yes. Thank God, I wasn’t sure how I was going to convince my parents to move away.”

Beca rolls her eyes. Finally. Teasing. She can do that. “You wouldn’t be able to leave me. You like me too much.”

Chloe’s smile grows soft. “Well...yeah. I do. A lot.”

Beca’s breath catches. She’s sure she could kiss Chloe right now and the crazy part is, it wouldn’t even be totally weird. Or out there. Because they’re going to start dating. But maybe kissing Chloe again before their first date is frowned upon? Beca has no idea. She’s still only ever kissed one person and that person is sitting in front of her.

��Girls! Dinner!”

As if Chloe had been reading her mind and her intentions, Chloe shakes her head and stands, offering a hand to pull Beca up. When Beca stands, they’re somehow even closer - almost nose to nose - than they had been when they were sitting. “Saved by the bell,” Chloe whispers, breath close enough to be felt on Beca’s mouth.

 * * * * *

 The most interesting part is that Beca hadn’t really thought about any of this - dating Chloe - beyond just vague daydreams and fantasies about just some kind of happy utopia with Chloe by her side. It’s honestly not much different from their usual day-to-day considering how close they already are, but dating? Actual dating?

Her Google search history stares back at her accusingly.

dating tips dating best friend first date first date movies dating girl what to do

She supposes she could ask her mother, but even that brief thought makes her shrink away from her desk. Beca stands and begins pacing. She’s sure that she’s overthinking this all. That Chloe could probably care less about what they do on their first date. That Chloe’s probably just expecting them to spend time together, just the two of them. With more handholding. And maybe a kiss at the end of the night.

“Shit,” Beca mutters suddenly. She rushes back to her computer, adding another search to her list.

kiss on first date ok???

She frowns. Not quite.

kissing before first date acceptable

In the end, she is saved from her descent into a hole of online searching by a text from Chloe herself.

Chloe dinner tomorrow at south street? haven’t been downtown in a while

Beca i’m down!

The ease at which Beca replies does not at all reflect the somersaults in her stomach.

 * * * * *

 “Hey,” Chloe calls, putting her menu down. “Where’d you go just now?”

Beca blinks, realizing that she had glazed over the menu entirely, too wrapped up in her own thoughts. “Oh, just...contemplating…” her eyes land on the first item she sees. “Salad.” She can’t help the way her own nose wrinkles instinctively at the thought of eating salad.

Chloe is as intuitive as ever, smiling as she reaches across the table to touch Beca’s hand. “You hate salad. Especially here.”

Beca swallows, struck by both the normalcy and intimacy of Chloe’s touch. They’ve been friends for years—there is nothing extremely off-putting about them holding hands or even just randomly touching each other on the arm, shoulder, knee.

And yet—

Chloe draws her hand away, seemingly not at all aware of Beca’s inner turmoil this time. She refocuses on her menu. “Want me to order something for you?” she asks instead.

Beca nods, though she is surprised. “Sure.” Now she’s curious as to what Chloe will order for her. And if she’s being honest, it kind of makes her feel giddy, the thought of Chloe knowing her well-enough to order something. Not that Beca would even bother with telling Chloe that she’s wrong. She’d eat anything at this point, just to spend more time with Chloe.

It’s not even like they’re at a fancy restaurant. It’s a diner downtown. The bright retro designs all around plus the comfortable, plush booth seats are all appealing to Beca and she likes the general atmosphere.

But she kind of wants to just…

“Can I sit next to you?” she blurts out. Immediately, she clamps her mouth shut, resisting the urge to avoid Chloe’s curious gaze, which lifts to meet hers immediately.

Chloe grins. “I would want nothing more. Get over here.”

Beca nearly sags in relief, but focuses instead on moving around the booth so she and Chloe are sitting closer, now on side of the booth.

Beca focuses on the frequent piece of advice she had found through a few somewhat reliable Google results.

Hold her hand.

Beca does. She inches her pinky across the cool vinyl seats until she can feel Chloe’s against her finger. Then, she slips her hand over Chloe’s, gently hooking her fingers on Chloe’s palm until Chloe gets the idea.

Chloe’s hand flips slowly, their palms touching. Beca exhales, sliding her fingers between Chloe’s, already liking the easy, comfortable fit of their hands.

Chloe says nothing, content to enjoy the silence and familiarity just as Beca is content to allow her feelings to take over. For a moment, Chloe appears to be perusing the menu in silence, but there is a steadiness to the set of Chloe’s shoulders. Beca can tell, having been so attuned to Chloe’s characteristics for longer than she’d like to admit. For longer than even Chloe herself knows at this moment. She glances at her date—her date!—selfishly taking the moment to appreciate Chloe’s profile.

It’s something she has done so many times before, but this time...this time, in a diner outside of town with the soft clatter of dishes around them and Chloe’s soft, warm palm against her own, Beca knows this is different.

“You know,” Chloe starts awkwardly. “I...obviously don’t mind if you ordered on your own.”

Beca laughs. “Why’d you offer to then?”

“I don’t know,” Chloe says, exasperation in her voice. She groans and hangs her head slightly. “I asked Max and-”

“You asked your brother what to do on a date with me?”

“No!” Chloe explains before she snorts. “I just...told him I was worried about impressing a girl. And I don’t know why, but I somehow thought he’d have some idea.” She grins a little, glancing at Beca out of the corner of her eye. “Did it work?”

“Maybe a little,” Beca says distractedly. She’s more fixated on the fact that Chloe must have been truly desperate to have turned to her older brother for help.

“Oh and he totally guessed I was going out with you, by the way.”

That’s not something that thrills Beca too much. Her imagination immediately conjures up a comically exaggerated vision of Chloe’s brother threatening her with a knife. “How?” she asks. “What did he say?”

“Nothing, really. He just kind of guessed and then said ‘finally’ or something like that.”

“Well, thank you for offering to order for me. It was very...chivalrous of you.”

“Please stop.”

“Quite charming.”

“Beca.”

“I can’t wait to see what other moves you try on me. Are we going to share one milkshake?”

“...no?”

 * * * * *

 They end up ordering two separate milkshakes because Beca sticks to her vanilla and Chloe orders chocolate.

“Try,” Chloe commands. “You always get vanilla. Chocolate is so good.”

Beca sighs, but obediently sticks her straw into Chloe’s cup despite Chloe’s protests of “contamination” and quickly takes a sip just to shut Chloe up for the time being. It’s not horrible - Beca just isn’t the fan of how chocolate tastes in milkshake form, though she’s sure Chloe will claim there’s no difference if the milkshake were in a solid chocolate bar form instead.

However, she’s mildly distracted by the sudden proximity she and Chloe have between them. Chloe’s arm rests loosely over her shoulder, where she had put her arm when Beca leaned in to drink from Chloe’s cup. She can practically feel Chloe’s breath on her neck and her cheek.

It would be so easy to just turn and -

Beca shakes her head slightly and shifts back. Chloe takes a moment longer to slowly move her arm from around Beca’s shoulders.

“What?” Beca asks quietly, poking at her fries a little. She catches Chloe smiling at her affectionately.

“Nothing,” Chloe replies quickly. “Just...you smell nice. That’s all.”

 * * * * *

 “I guess it’s kind of convenient that we live together,” Beca remarks, trying not to think too hard about the way Chloe’s hand feels in her own. She winces. “Well. Not live together. But…you know. Live next to each other.”

Chloe tilts her head, smiling as they walk up the path towards their houses. “And why is that convenient?” she asks lightly.

Beca blushes. She hadn’t thought this far. “I’m…I don’t know. I was just…commenting. On the convenience.”

Chloe giggles, pulling Beca closer ever so slightly. Beca likes the way their arms press together. She likes holding Chloe’s hand. She likes lifting her other hand to curl against the bend of Chloe’s elbow.

She likes knowing that Chloe likes her—really likes her—and Chloe enjoyed their date and—and—

“This is you,” Chloe murmurs, stopping in front of Beca’s door.

Beca kind of doesn’t want the night to end. She wants to sit on the porch and talk to Chloe for a few more minutes. Maybe one more hour. Just to hear the sound of her voice and have her attention for a few moments longer.

“This is me,” Beca parrots, feeling a lot more nervous than she thinks she’s letting on. That was what people said in those movies adorning Chloe’s shelves, right? It was what the internet said. Normal first date cliches. She steps backwards, under the light of her front porch, still holding Chloe’s hand as she does so. Chloe hesitates for a moment like she wants to follow, but ultimately she simply squeezes Beca’s hand in understanding and drops her own hand away.

Beca is immediately disappointed. She hadn’t wanted that at all. She bites her lip, watching as Chloe awkwardly shuffles her feet before she glances back up at Beca. A soft, slow smile spreads across Chloe’s lips, gentle and affectionate all at once. It makes Beca’s heart pound ridiculously hard.

“I had fun,” Chloe whispers, like she’s afraid somebody else will hear her. But not because she's afraid of other people. Just afraid that their bubble will burst, like Beca is. Another step closer. Beca swallows. “Can we do that again?”

“You’d want to go on more dates?” Beca asks, just to clarify, even though she knows exactly what Chloe’s asking.

“I would love to go on more dates with you.”

“Me too,” Beca squeaks out. “I—um—”

Chloe’s smile stretches, somehow happier than before. “Goodnight Beca.”

Something in Beca snaps. She steps forward, just two small steps and calls out Chloe’s name. “Wait,” she adds hastily.

Chloe stops and turns, surprised.

“Can I—” Beca swallows, licking her suddenly dry lips. “Can I kis—”

She doesn’t get to finish her question before Chloe is covering the ground between them in two short strides, wrapping her hand around the back of Beca’s head, letting the other come up to Beca’s arm, and kissing her for all her worth.

Beca gasps in surprise into the kiss, hands coming up to Chloe’s shoulders, squeezing tightly. Gently and slowly, Chloe presses further into the kiss, her lips moving ever so lightly against Beca’s. It is so much more than their first kiss—a do-over, if anything—and Beca realizes, with a jolt, that this is something she can do now. She can kiss Chloe because Chloe likes her and Chloe went on a date with her. Chloe held her hand all night.

Chloe wants to kiss her too.

Beca hums happily at the thought, looping her hands behind Chloe’s neck. It feels instinctual even as Beca blushes at the sudden intensity of the kiss. She knows Chloe has kissed more people than she has; she knows Chloe will forever have more experience in this regard. But God, Beca thinks that she has never felt more wonderful or powerful than she does in this moment, tightening her grip on the fabric of Chloe’s light jacket.

Pulling back ever so slightly, Beca heaves a breath and rests her forehead against Chloe’s forehead. Chloe’s breathing is the tiniest bit labored as well. For a moment, neither of them dares to move, too afraid to break the spell between them.

Chloe is the first to smile—the first to press forward ever so slightly so their noses brush delicately. “What were you going to ask?” Chloe murmurs.

Beca swats her shoulder lightly. “You’re so weird,” she mumbles back, leaning in to steal just one more kiss from her beautiful, wonderful date.

 * * * * *

 When Beca reaches the solitude of her bedroom, she finally gets what all those high school romcoms were about. Showing their protagonist thrilled to finally finish a date so they can squeal and giggle and simply dream about their crush or date. It’s probably the first time that Beca has felt her energy rebound around her room with such happiness and positivity. The sensation is addicting—she honestly just wants to text Chloe all night.

Which, honestly, she could.

Chloe kissed her. Chloe kissed her because she likes her and they just went on a date. A freaking date.

A text from Chloe jolts her back to reality.

Chloe i miss you, is that weird?

Beca no because i miss you too. weirdo.

Chloe i have something else to tell you. that might be weird. Idk

Beca go for it.

Beca watches the text bubbles float in and out on her screen, like Chloe is typing a paragraph. Despite Chloe just saying that she missed her, Beca can’t help but feel nervous.

Chloe I just wanted you to know why i picked south street. it’s because. well. Remember when we first went there by ourselves without our parents. Sometime last year. With a few friends. And we all squeezed into that booth and sat there and shared fries and milkshakes and felt like we were at the top of the world because we were finally in high school or something stupid like that. I don’t even remember much about that night or who we were with but i do remember seeing the way you laughed at something and how your entire face lit up. and i remember thinking that i really liked you and how scary it was that i felt these things for you so suddenly and so much. Like a lot. but i’m so glad that we both got to this point - that we both feel the same way. I just really loved the way you looked when you laughed and i am so happy you’re in my life.

Chloe also i really like kissing you

Beca doesn’t even bother replying.

She shoves on her shoes again and rushes out the front door. She is only surprised to see Chloe sitting on her own front porch, staring worriedly at her phone.

“You really are so weird, y'know that?” She calls out, careful not to startle Chloe too much.

Chloe does jump anyway, but she sets her phone down quickly. “What are you doing?”

“Finishing this date off again that you confessed your big scary feelings. Through a text message.” Beca pretends to be annoyed as she stomps over to Chloe. “You couldn’t have said all that?”

“You make me nervous!” Chloe exclaims.

Beca shakes her head, mustering up all the courage she has in the world, pulling Chloe in for a kiss like she wanted to earlier before Chloe beat her to it.

“So much better,” Beca whispers, smiling when Chloe huffs quietly against her mouth.

It's the perfect end to the beginning Beca has been dreaming of all this time.

fin.

[earthlostgirl]

Here is another Faye and Spike fanfic. Who else?

DOG DAYS

She was making a hell of a noise, but it's not like she could help it. Her movements were slow and uncoordinated. She crashed into a pile of junk that fell to the ground, she closed her eyes, even under her feet the sound seemed far away.

When she turned around Spike was pointing his Jerico at her. She gave a little gasp, startled, and clutched the first aid kit to her chest. Damn silent idiot. Damn blind idiot who didn't seem to recognize her, suddenly his expression changed completely, as if he was seeing a ghost.

"Will you stop aiming at me? Or are you planning to finish me off like a dying horse?" her voice sounded exhausted. She was. She was also drunk, or at least there were traces of alcohol in her system.

"What the hell happened to you?" he asked annoyed and scanning her as he lowered the gun.

"I had a happy argument with an idiot about the right to speak out " she replied with sarcasm. "f you'll excuse me, I'm very tired and want go to sleep."

She made a couple of steps, clumsy and slow, but her legs didn't feel like cooperating on her way to the room. She was going to fall to the ground and was doubtful that she could extend her arms to stop the impact. She closed her eyes, ready to take the hit of her life, and maybe lose a tooth, all for show.

Luckily Spike's chest broke her fall.

"Oooh," Faye said as she sensed the smell of tobacco and something she couldn't identify, invading her every sense. " That was fast."

" Were you planning on kissing the floor?" Spike asked helping her to stand up.

"I doubt I can extend my arms," she whispered against the yellow fabric of the shirt, inhaling his scent again. "You smell so good..."

"Can you walk?" the sound of Spike's heartbeat against her ear seemed to lull her to sleep.

"I guess, " she pulled away from him.

Each wince was worse than the last. Spike, who hadn't left her side, slipped his arm around her waist and almost carried her into the bedroom.

She sat on the bed with the first aid kit still under her arm and placed it on her lap.

"Are you going to stare at me like that all the time?" Faye asked trying to open the damn box, she wasn't able to, the pain was excruciating, she'd have to add a broken wrist to the list.

Spike seemed to notice, because he snatched it out of her hands.

"You're a fucking mess ," Spike mumbled angrily.

"Don't yell at me."

"I didn't."

"Your voice sounds so loud then...," Faye just wanted him to leave her alone, lick her wounds and sleep until the end of the world came.

"Don't move," he commanded.

"Where do you think I'm going - on a bender?" she grumbled wryly.

"Shut up, Faye."

Spike disappeared from her sight without another word, but she stood very still, staring at the door, which seemed to ripple.

"First you should wipe off all the blood on your face, " she didn't realize Spike had returned until she heard his voice.

Faye reached out her hand tentatively so Spike could pass her the soaked towel he had brought with him. But he came over to her and squatting down, Spike gently began to run it over her forehead, her cheeks, meticulously wiping the already dried blood from her face. She was incapable of saying anything, except to stare at him in disbelief, his mannerisms were delicate and kind, definitions that in her life she would have dared to put next to Spike. Every time she complained, Spike clicked his tongue in annoyance.

"Thank you," she whispered as he set the towel aside.

Spike looked at her seriously, as he examined her face closely.

" Now what kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into?"

"I didn't do anything!" she protested angrily.

"I see," he mumbled in exasperation looking her up and down again

"Your jacket is soaked with blood, take it off."

"No," she protested. "It's okay."

"Don't be a baby," he retorted. "Take off your jacket."

She gave him an indignant look, but the way he was staring at her made her nervous. So she decided to listen to him. She put her hand to her zipper, but her arms hurt and she gave up the attempt.

"It hurts," she said rubbing her wrist.

"Fuck Faye," he replied throwing his hand to her zipper.

Anyway, she had been trying to avoid that moment. Spike's eyes widened as he saw her t-shirt torn to shreds.

"Faye..." Spike was looking at her with an intense stare and his hands trembled as he pulled away from her.

"Don't look at me like that, " Faye snapped upset, covering herself with one arm. "It's embarrassing enough that you have to help me."

"Are you okay?" he looked genuinely concerned and made her shiver.

"Yeah...," he sighed. "Nothing happened."

"Sure?"

"Yeah," her eyes filled with tears, but she didn't want to cry in front of him, she took a deep breath trying to pull herself together and shook her shoulders. "Nothing happened, it was just a horrible night."

" All right... Where's all this blood coming from? Where did you get hurt?" he pulled the jacket away from her shoulders looking for open wounds.

"The blood isn't mine," Faye muttered through her teeth.

Spike looked at her again in that indecipherable way while helping her take off her jacket.

"Do you want to put something else on?" he asked looking in horror at the bruises on her arms.

"Yes, please," she was half naked, covered in blood and terribly tired, she couldn't imagine any worse situation. "Can you bring me another shirt? In the drawers there's got to be some."

Spike stood up, moving over to the closet as she pulled off the tatters of her shirt and finished cleaning herself.

"I cut his throat," Faye finally said looking at the blood stained towel, everything around her seemed blurry, the only vision she was able to focus on was that damn towel. . " He...I couldn't get him off me, he was so much stronger than me..... I had never seen so much blood..."

"He deserved it," he replied earnestly, passing her the shirt.

"Yes..."

Faye felt like crying again when she found herself unable to dress herself. Her ribs ached, everything ached.

"Leave it to me," before she could protest Spike was already pulling the T-shirt over her head and helping to put it on. "I have to examine your wrist."

"I know..."

Spike held her arm gently and sighed in frustration. She tried her best not to complain but the truth was that it hurt like hell. Spike bit his lips angrily as he patted along the length of her arm. The bruises looked really shocking in contrast to the pallor of her skin.

"It's not broken," he said as he rifled through the bandages in the kit until he found a new bundle. After placing a piece of metal to keep it straight, he bandaged it tight. "You should hold it up."

She tried to smile as he began to put away the rest of the bandages in the first aid kit. Spike didn't look at her, he was focused on tidying each and every item inside.

"I've got a anti-bruise cream, it's pretty good..." Spike said with his eyes fixed on the box.

He stood up again and left her alone in the room. She flopped down on the bed exhausted, letting sleep overcome her for good.

When Faye opened her eyes again, she was inside the sheets, but she didn't remember taking off her shoes or getting into them. Bringing the hands to her face, she discovered a pair of band-aids over her eyebrow and cheek. The pot of cream was on her bedside table. Faye sat up and spread the cream as best she could over her arm. She got out of bed, she was thirsty and the pain was worse than before she went to sleep.

She went to the kitchen to drink a glass of water. There was a dim light in the living room, Spike was watching TV in the dark. He turned to look at her. He was inscrutable, she couldn't decipher what he was thinking. She smiled tiredly at him, but he didn't move a muscle in his face.

"Did I wake you up?" Spike asked turning down the volume on the TV.

"No, I was thirsty," she replied raising the glass full of water.

She didn't feel like being alone, but she didn't know whether to stay or not.

"How are you?" he asked, offering a hand towards her.

Her heart skipped a beat and she froze. He blinked as if waking from a dream and withdrew his hand.

Faye sat down next to him and picked up the pack of cigarettes from the table, it was hard to maneuver with only one hand. She bit into the cigarette and before she tried to reach for the lighter the flame appeared before her eyes. She smiled frankly and Spike smiled back.

"What are you watching?" she asked full of curiosity.

"Boxing."

"Oh," she settled back on the couch as best she could. Spike watched her out of the corner of his eye. She heard him sigh and look back at the screen.

The boxing match broke for the news. They had found the body, Faye felt the air around her thicken, her attacker was a notorious criminal. She could barely hear the broadcaster over the pounding of her heart. He had been put in jail for torturing, raping and murdering six women. He'd escaped a few days ago. Spike reached for the TV remote.

"No," her hand was shaking but she still wouldn't let him change the channel.

Faye didn't realize she was crying until she felt the tears on her lips.

"You don't have to watch this crap," Spike said turning off the TV.

Not sure if she had heard him correctly, Faye was only aware of her heart beating. She tried to fill her lungs with air, but failed.

"Faye?"

She couldn't breathe, she put her hands to her chest and dug her nails in, as if she could tear her skin off to make way for oxygen.

"Breathe," Spike held her by the shoulders, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "It's all over."

She couldn't speak, couldn't stop crying. She hugged Spike who ran his hands through her hair and placed them on her back. She was choking, she tried to catch her breath again, but all she managed was an agonized whimper. Spike pulled away from her. His confused and panicked expression made her even more frightened.

"Please, Faye, breathe," he cupped her face with both hands. "Don't fuck with me, do it very carefully, slowly."

Spike took a slow breath, not taking his eyes off her. She focused on the small change in hue between his eyes as he tried to mimic Spike's slow, methodical breaths. Tears were still slipping down her face, but she felt herself regaining control. Spike wiped the tears from her eyes and smiled, resting his forehead against hers.

" That' s right," his voice sounded calm. "That's it, a little at a time."

Faye rested her head on Spike's shoulder and closed her eyes, while he kept stroking her hair. Her heartbeat didn't seem to calm down, yet she was able to breathe. She felt Spike wrap his arms around her, pulling her closer. Spike radiated a cozy, pleasant warmth, that comforted her. Faye was grateful for his silence and the way he ran his fingers through her hair. She was grateful he let her cry and that he was there. She let out a barely inaudible "thank you" against his chest. She heard him swallow and laugh nervously. He squeezed her in his arms before releasing her.

"Will you be able to breathe on your own or are you tricking me into giving you mouth-to-mouth?" Spike joked as he gave her one of his unmistakable smiles.

"Ha! You wish you could put your lips on mine," she replied looking sideways at him and plopping down on the back of the couch.

"I quit boxing?" he asked casually turning the TV back on.

"Not a chance, there's a show about cosmetic operations gone wrong on channel 93, put it on."

"I'm not putting that crap on."

"Give me the remote, Spiegel."

"Over my dead body, Romani."

[some-kindofgnome]

sick day

Hawks comes home after a few days away. You’ve come down with a nasty cold in his absence. 

characters: takami keigo (hawks) x f!reader

wc: 2.2k

warnings: smut (18+ please!), reader with a head cold (lil snot action here and there), soft soft SOFT hawks who goes down on u in the morning >:) 

requests: from 2 anons!: I have a request ! I love me some hawks taking care of his sick s/o and when they are better ! He pounces for sex ! Huzzah

&

I’m in desperate need of a hawks taking care of his sick s/o , also because I love your work and also because I’m sick and want to take care of me.

notes: i. adore. writing soft hawks. i just want him to take care of me oh-kay? let this man love. please! 💖 

Masterlist

You’re so sick when Hawks get in, you’ve almost forgotten how long he was away.

After a growing mission took him away from the city for a few days, he gets back early in the afternoon with the sun streaming into the kitchen windows. And with you, hunched over your laptop at the counter with tissues littering the counter and floor around you.

“Hey, bluebird,” he calls as his keys jingle in the door. “God, it’s only getting colder out there by the minute now. How’s you- oh, no.”

When he spots the mess you’ve become, his little mission bag slips to the tiled floor, pulling you out of your fever-induced trance. You tear burning eyes away from your document, and the smile that crosses your face is sleepy and swollen.

“Hey babe,” you sniffle. It’s evident in your voice, your body language, everything. Keigo’s only been gone a couple of days, but it was long enough for you to come down with a nasty little bug.

“How was your trip?”

He cringes at the congested sound of your voice. Sucks in a deep little breath through his teeth.

“What are you doing?” He asks. “Are you working?”

You glance guiltily over your shoulder at your laptop. “Well, yeah, I-I was feeling alright this morning, so I-“

“No way,” he interrupts firmly. He’s already shrugging out of his hero clothes. They’re streaked with soot and mud, but he’s going to worry about himself later.

He comes up behind you jacketless, belt already unbuckled and jingling loose around his thighs. He sets one hand on your shoulder and the other on the back of the chair next to you.

“Email your boss,” he rumbles. “Tell her you’re taking the afternoon off. Tell her you’re sick, for the love of god.”

“Babe, I can work,” you plead. “It’s a cold. I’m not dying.”

“You need to rest,” he argues. He brings both hands to your shoulders, digging his thumbs gently against your aching muscles. You try your best to hide how sensitive they are, but you can’t help the little spasms that make you twitch and sigh.

“C’mon,” he hums, dipping close. He pushes a kiss against the sensitive spot behind your ear, and you catch the soft, musky scent of the sweat that clings to his hairline. He smells earthy and cold, like he’s been outside a while.

Maybe he flew all the way back here.

“We both need showers,” he offers. And when he rumbles it all low and tempting in your ear, there’s no way you can put up much of a fight.

“Okay,” you groan. Keigo turns away with a triumphant pump of his fist. You try to keep the idiotic grin off your face as you open a new email. To no avail.

You and your boss have a close enough relationship that it’s easy for you to type out a casual little email explaining everything to her. She gets back to you right away, and even though you’re too busy being dragged to the bathroom, you can tell by the first few lines of the email that it’s all fine by her.

You kind of regret not telling her before about the fever you’re running. But none of that matters now. You’ve got the last few hours of the afternoon off, and you intend on spending at least some of that time in the shower with Keigo.

He’s already naked and warming up the water for you. You want to ache for him- he’s been away all weekend, after all- but you’re both too exhausted to do anything but climb under the water together. You pause for a moment with rivulets running over both your bodies, and he cups your cheeks, biting his lower lip hard as conflict floods his features.

“I wanna kiss you so bad right now,” he groans.

“I missed you, too,” you giggle back, reaching up to push your wet fingers through his soaking hair. “But I wouldn’t wish this shit on my worst enemy.”

He knows you’re right, settling for a soft little kiss to your shoulder instead. He turns you around and lets warm water spray down your back as he rubs your shoulders, your neck, working all the tension from your muscles. The pain in your head whittles away the longer you stand there, and before long it’s nothing more than a dull throb while he’s reaching for the shampoo.

There’s no feeling you love more than Keigo washing your hair for you. His fingers are attentive and devoted, scratching itches you never realized were bothering you. He scrunches his fingers through the ends of your hair before reaching for the removable shower head, smoothing one rinsed palm over your forehead to tilt your head back.

“Eyes closed,” he coos. You’re still smiling like a goddamned idiot.

The suds sluice down your back as he passes the shower wand over your hair. The bubbles send wafts of fragrance through your senses. There’s nothing like coconut-scented shampoo when winter closes in on the city. It’s like a little trip to the beach, every time you get in the shower.

It was Keigo’s idea.  

He combs loving fingers coated with slippery conditioner through your hair. He lathers up your favourite body wash and trails his slick fingers over your tired skin. You can feel him getting excited behind you, but you’re both too tired to do anything about it. All he does is pull you lovingly back against his chest, letting his half-hard cock rest against the curve of your ass. He lays another soft kiss to the crook of your shoulder and you let out a deep, drippy sigh.

“C’mon,” he rumbles into your ear, tender like a dove. “Let’s get out before your nose starts to run, yeah?”

He dries himself off quickly, leaving you the bathroom for a few minutes. Wrapping your fluffy towel around your shoulders, you pad across the heated tile to pluck a tissue from the box by the mirror.

You blow. Hard. The steam lingering in the room helps to dislodge some of your congestion, and you emerge from the bathroom with the newfound ability to breathe through your left nostril.

Progress.

When you get into the bedroom, there are clothes laid out for you. Your favourite pair of clean sweatpants and one of Hawks’ t-shirts. You slip into the pants and give the t-shirt a little cuddle, burying your nose into the fabric and smiling when you catch the barest whiff of his spicy scent through your dulled senses.

You don’t even notice that the blankets are gone from the bed until you realize where they’ve been moved. As you emerge from your shared bedroom, you immediately spot the fluffy duvet and pillows spread out on the couch.

Hawks is in the kitchen, tapping away on his phone. When he spots you, he smiles so tender and soft it makes your sick little heart swell. He gives a little nod toward the couch as his wings bristle gently, encouraging.

“Go on,” he quips. “Get comfy.”

He comes around the side of the counter as you curl into the nest of pillows and gets down on his knees beside you.

“Here we go,” he hums. “A warm little nest for my cozy little bluebird.” He tugs the edges of the blanket back over and around you, wrapping you up in the fluffy comforter like a sick little sushi roll. Once you’re well tucked in, he smooths the hair back from your forehead. His chin juts forward- he wants to kiss you- but he restrains himself.

“I ordered you some food, okay?”

You snuggle deeper into your cozy retreat, until only your eyes and nose poke over the top of the blankets. The soft, soapy scent of the laundry detergent you use sends sweet washes of comfort through your tired brain.

“What kind of food?”

“Noodle soup,” he hums. You can tell he’s restraining the urge to grin as he looks you over. God, you’ve missed him. “From that place down the road.”

“Yum,” you gasp. You fiddle with the edges of your blanket to shove one hand out the side, grabbing his fingers and giving them a loving little squeeze. He chuckles, taking your hand between both of his and stroking the back of your palm over with both thumbs.

“Here,” he adds. He twists over one shoulder, grabbing the remote for the TV. “Put on anything you want. The food’ll be here soon, and then you can eat and go to bed, yeah?”

He glanced toward the armchair, not far from the couch. You try to hide the way your heart sinks.

He’s still got work to do.

“Sounds good,” you mumble, taking the cool plastic remote from his hand. You think about putting something on for the two of you, but he’s given you express instructions to indulge. So you find the show that brings you the most comfort and let its familiar sounds bring you down from the edge of a demanding work day.

When the food arrives, you sit up and slurp your noodles diligently. He keeps refilling your water, giving you a little dose of cold medication once you’ve got something in your stomach.

He’s ordered a bowl of soup for himself, too, but it stays largely untouched as he taps away on his laptop, finishing the report for the mission he’d raced back from, no doubt.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but you half-wake to the sleepy sensation of being lifted. In a drowsy stupor you don’t even open your eyes, simply letting your head rock forward against Keigo’s familiar chest as he carries you to bed.

The next morning, you feel like a changed person.

The first thing you realize when you open your eyes is that you can breathe through your nose. Both sides. The passages of your sinus are so clear they nearly hurt, but you take deep, greedy breaths, revelling in your ability to clear your sleepy head with fresh, cool oxygen.

The second thing you notice is the very mischievous bird in the sheets beside you.

“G’morning, bluebird.”

He snuggles close to you, dropping a sordid kiss to your shoulder. He trails kisses into the crook of your neck and his hot breath tickles your tender skin in a way that you’ve dearly missed.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Better,” you conclude with a drowsy little smile. Your limbs have a pleasant, sleepy weight to them, but he’s quickly wearing the ache of rest from your tired eyes.

“Like… I’m probably not contagious anymore.”

You don’t have to tell him twice.

“God,” he sighs, rolling on top of you. He dips his mouth to yours, soft at first, then insistent. “I missed ya, kid.”

He kisses all the way down the side of your neck again, drawing tight little shivers from the length of your spine. He’s impatient, though, pushing your t-shirt up and curling his fingers into the loose hem of your sweatpants to rid you of them quickly.

He pushes your thighs apart, settling onto his belly between them. His wings dip and fold gracefully behind his back. You reach out and stroke the apex of one of them, making it flutter. He shoots you a sly grin and you watch the way his hips dip into the mattress.

Fuck, it feels good to be horny again.

Keigo kisses and nips a long path up the inside of one sensitive thigh, leaving tiny little welts where he sooths his tongue over your flesh. By the time he gets to the joint of your pelvis, you’re squirming for him, achy and needing.

“Fuck,” he sighs, nozing at the apex of one thigh. He takes a deep inhale and kisses there. “I missed this.”

He licks, gentle and loving. You keen and sigh. The sensation is beautifully familiar- even more so as he finds the swell of your clit, pushing a scruffy kiss to it and then starting to suck.

Keigo always eats you out sloppy. But it drives you crazy, the way he slides his arms under your thighs to leverage your hips against his face. The way he licks and slurps at you shamelessly, unafraid to overwhelm your sensitive form. His fingers dig gently into the meat of your thighs when he finds the tenderest angle from which to attack your clit, and you ride a wave of pleasure so smooth that it clears the last vestiges of your cloudy headache from the edges of your temples.

He makes you cum hard, letting you dive your fingers into his hair and pull while he feasts on your pussy. When he pulls back from between your thighs, his scruff is slick with spit and you and he’s licking his lips like they’re coated in honey.

“Hmm, fuck,” he groans, rolling his hips into the mattress again before climbing to his knees. “God. You gave me so much, bluebird.” He wipes his chin on the back of his hand, examining the sheen of your juices with a wolfish grin.

If he was hard before he’s straining now, but he bats his hands away before you can even get close.

“No way,” he quips, climbing out of bed. “You need to rest more.”

“Aw, c’mon,” you fuss. But Keigo’s firm.

“Stay in bed, bluebird. I gotcha.” He moves toward the door of your bedroom, then glances over his shoulder and grins.

“How d’you feel about pancakes?”

There’s no instance that Keigo’s tried to make pancakes that hasn’t ended in sheer disaster. But you’ve missed him too much not to adore him for trying. You pull the blankets back over your spent form, beaming at him from the pillows.

“Sounds good.”

[ayanna-wild]

Devil Don't Go

Word Count: 1679

Pairings: Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

Warnings: angst, violence, sad fluff, fluff, mentions of drowning, near death experiences

A/N: Request from Wattpad

Summary: This case should have been open and shut, it wasn’t supposed to go this way.

..................................................................................

Your world was spinning, well more accurately you were spinning, in a chair at the LAPD. To be even more accurate Lucifer was spinning you. The case you had agreed to help Chloe with had hit a snag, and every lead you thought you had was coming up a dead end. Which is why you were sitting in a chair, letting your devilish companion lazily twirl you around.

"I still say the manager of the victim's store seemed rather suspicious, are you sure we can't question him again?"

You hung your head back staring at the ceiling, thankful he wasn't spinning you fast enough to make you dizzy.

"He lawyered up, besides he had an alibi."

Lucifer huffed, clearly bored with how slow this case was moving.

"Oh yes, he was with his lover, was it? People lie darling."

You shrugged, placing your feet on the ground to stop yourself from spinning as you turned to look at him. Lucifer smiled when your eyes landed on him, and the corners of your mouth twitched up.

You and Lucifer had grown close since your transfer to the LAPD, and you found yourself helping Chloe on cases she could have solved easily herself. If she noticed she hadn't said a thing, you suspected it was Lucifer who convinced her to ask for your assistance.

This case however, they really did need help on.

"Why do you think they're lying?"

"He barely remembered their name, and his so called significant other, took far to long to recall him." Lucifer reasoned.

You frowned a little, unable to refute his logic, you leaned back in the chair.

"Well...you're right..."

"Of course I am, now put your feet back up, unfortunately this is the most interesting thing I've done today."

Before the two of you could continue your pointless entertainment, Chloe rushed over to her desk, grabbing her car keys. Both you and Lucifer perked up.

"What's got you in such a rush Detective?"

"Ella found us a lead, it might not pan out, but we should still check into it."

You jumped to your feet, grabbing your own keys from Lucifer's hand, who'd been carelessly tossing them back and forth with you earlier.

"I'll follow you."

"Allow me to accompany you." Lucifer beamed.

You raised an eyebrow as you headed for the exit.

"I don't let him press the buttons." Chloe explained.

After the fourth or fifth time of him turning on the siren to frighten unsuspecting civilians you forbade him touching anything as well. He muttered under his breath the rest of the drive.

~

You'd never understood the appeal decrepit buildings had in the criminal world of LA, but here you were.

"Couldn't they ever choose a nice little café, or someplace not run by rats?" You mumbled to yourself, stepping over what you hoped was an oil stain.

Leaky pipes and moldy smells filled the air as you careful walked along the walls, gun ready and senses on high alert. Your suspect, who had in fact turned out to be the manager, had opened fire as soon as the three of you walked through the door. It forced you away from Chloe and Lucifer, who you were now trying to find.

The platform you were walking on creaked behind you, and you whirled around, gun raised. Chloe froze, raising her hands, and you let out a sigh.

"Find anything?"

She shook her head, and you placed your gun back in its holster.

"Where's Lucifer?"

Her question chilled you to the core, and you stared at her in confusion. Your voice caught as you spoke.

"I thought he was with you..."

~

You refused to leave your desk, or even take any breaks as you searched through file after file. Called anyone even remotely related to your suspect. Lucifer had been with Chloe, he'd been vulnerable, he could be hurt, or worse.

You shook your head, that line of thinking wasn't going to do anything but make you panic.

A heavy, frustrated sigh left your lips, and you leaned forward, resting your head in your hands on the desk in front of you. Your eyes strained from hours of reading.

"I found something!"

You whipped your head around so fast it almost hurt your neck. Ella ran in, waving a paper around wildly. You and Chloe quickly crowded her and Ella explained everything.

"Okay, so I called around, you know places he frequents, old jobs things like that. There's an old swim center he used to run, a few workers there say he still comes by after hours to do laps."

"What does this have to do with finding Lucifer?" Chloe asked.

"Well I just off the phone with an employee who works there. Mr. Manager man is there now."

~

You couldn't drive fast enough, flying through red lights and recklessly taking turns. Chloe held onto the dash, shouting out warnings now and then, but she never told you to slow down. She was just as eager as you to find the king of hell.

"Y/N! We need a plan!"

You almost forgot to put the car into park before you got out. Chloe followed after you, calling for you to slow down, but you ignored her. The doors to the pool slammed open when you kicked them, smacking the wall just in time to see the murderous manager shove Lucifer, who was unconscious and tied to a chair, into the pool.

You screamed his name, dropping your gun as you dived into the pool without a second thought. You spotted Chloe running after the suspect just seconds before you hit the water.

The pool was so deep, and the chlorine burned your eyes as you swam towards Lucifer. You didn't know how you were holding your breath this long, but you weren’t really focusing on that. You struggled to untie the ropes around him, but your lungs were beginning to burn.

He's been down there for too long already, you were down there too long, your head growing light.

With no other choice but to surface, you took a large breath before diving under the water again. It wasn't enough time to really catch your breath and your chest tightened, but you finally loosened the ropes. You thanked the adrenaline rushing through your veins that you were able to pull him to the surface and out of the pool.

Violent coughs shook your body as you struggled to breathe again. You were light-headed, but you needed to focus, you had to check on him. Turning your attention to Lucifer you rolled him onto his back checking the injury to his bloody temple, it was sallow nothing to serious, and then you checked his pulse.

Only... there was no pulse.

"No no no...."

You got to your knees, placing your hands in the center of his chest as you began to push fast. You went back and forth between pressing on his chest to blowing breath into his lungs. You weren’t sure how long you kept this up, but you really didn't care to keep track of time right now.

"Come on...Lucifer, please..."

Tears clouded your vision and your arms gave out, you collapsed against his chest, checking his pulse once more, but there was nothing.

"Damn it wake up!" You slammed your fists down on his chest. Your tears ran down your face mixing with the pool water still clinging to your skin, but he didn’t move.

"You promised we'd go out for lunch tomorrow, and you always keep your promises, right?"

You brushed his wet hair from his face as your hands shook.

"So you have to wake up." Your voice broke, and you pressed your forehead against his, crying freely.

"Please don't go."

You almost slammed your head against his when his body suddenly jerked, and he sat up. You jumped back staring at him with wide eyes as he coughed out water from his lungs. He wheezed a moment clutching his chest, before looking around until his eyes landed on you. He gave you a tired smile and a weak chuckle.

"Well that was a wonderfully terrible visit to Hell."

With that joke your worry evaporated, and you fell back against the wall behind you. You ran a hair through your damp hair, and you laughed through your tears.

"You're alive..."

Lucifer looked at you curiously, and he moved closer to you.

"Darling are you alright? Why are you crying?"

He let out a surprised grunt when you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"You were dead you idiot, of course I'm crying."

"But I'm not dead now..."

You huffed, shaking your head as you tightened your hold around him.

"You're missing the point." You spoke lightly.

Lucifer carefully held you, frowning a little when he felt your body trembling.

"You're shaking." He pointed out softly.

"Just cold from the water." You lied.

You smiled, nestling closer to him, you needed to feel his heartbeat his breath on your skin. You pulled back to hold his face in your hands, eyeing the cut on his temple.

"You're bleeding a little still..." You muttered.

He grabbed your hand as your fingers ghosted over the wound. He smiled squeezing your hand a little.

"I imagine my situation would be much worse if not for you."

He smiled, and you slowly realized you were sitting in his lap. You cleared your throat, shifting to move off him, and he sent you a wink.

"Anyway, I'm really happy you're okay."

Lucifer's expression softened, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"Well I couldn't very well stay dead now could I? A promise is a promise."

You looked at him surprised.

"You heard that?"

He chuckled, moving a wet strand of hair away from your eyes.

"It was hard not to, you were practically praying to me."

You rolled your eyes, but you still couldn't help the smile that stretched across your face.

"Just promise you won't go dying on me again."

"I'll try my very best darling." He chuckled.

..................................................................................

Tag List: @sallyp-53 @mizzezm @adira-secrets @we-are-all-alittle-strange-here @gingernarwal @im-just-along-for-the-ride @lifeshortbro @measure-in-pain @emiwrites3reads @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @kelly-n-russell @aiofheavenandhell @beththedemonhunter

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Ooh! I just discovered you from the Bad Things Happen Bingo and I love your writing already! Could I potentially request the Bleeding Out prompt as a prequel for the Soup for the Sick story you wrote?

Thank you for the ask! I had to look up prequel to make sure that you meant before the events of Personalized Caretaker Part 1, and not after 😂. Here you go! In reference to this post.

So, with that note, this piece happened before Part 1 of Personalized Caretaker.

Personalized Caretaker Part 2

Part 1

Warnings: blood, vomit, losing consciousness, faking an injury, drugged whumpee, fear, implied touch starvation

*not edited*

~

Civilian hopped onto her couch, legs resting on the armrest and flicked on the television, going straight for Netflix.

It was a normal day, serene and tranquil with the perfect amount of work that made Civilian feel good inside.

She lazily gnawed on a piece of beef jerky and selected The Kissing Booth for personal enjoyment. Something cheesy and romantic to vibe to as she decompressed- even the best days required a period of relaxation.

But, her period of relaxation was very rudely interrupted by a thud. Right outside her door.

Civilian froze, heart racing, as her mind involuntarily replayed every known horror movie. She was the victim, the bad guy was going to break in and slash her throat as she unceremoniously says, "Who's there?"

Civilian shuddered, turning off the television, and slowly standing up. She grabbed her remote control as a weapon and very, very slowly, like a ninja, stalked stealthily up to the door.

"Who's there?" Civilian asked. Crap, her fatal flaw. Now the bad guy was going to rush out and murder her, then the police would come and there would be ten more killings and then there would be a ghost that was a moaning lady with pale skin and black hair that was hung in the woods seventy-some years ago and then it is reincarnated to be a doll that haunts children and-

Civilian drew in a deep breath. Don't freak out, don't freak out. It was probably a bird that weighed the size of a man- a bad man- that crashed into the window and died. And died. And died. And died. It was gone. Instead of using a remote, she should be using a plastic bag.

"Stop it Civilian, you paranoid freak," she yelled at herself, very loudly, her voive taut with utter fear as she peered through the shades.

The first thing she saw was blood.

Smeared blood in the direction of downwards, leading directly to...

A body.

Civilian felt nausea rise in her throat as literally the blood drained from her face. She wasn't the first victim, the poor human in opening credits, she was the next victim and her house was the killer's stash.

Probably to blame her for the death. To redirect the suspicion.

She had to hide the body and burn it before the cops came. Oh boy, the killer probably already called them. Crap crap crap.

Civilian whisked the door open, tossing her grand weapon of plastic and onto a nearby table, and prepared to wrap the body in a black bag.

The body moved.

Civilian screamed.

The body was not a body, it was a living man.

"Oh my gosh sir? Sir! Are you okay? Sir! Sir!" Civilian grabbed her hair and started to paced. "This can't be happening. This can't be happening. There is a bleeding man on my fricking doorstep." She started to ramble, muttering nonsensical curses and words that weren't going to help the dying man.

She was panicking, completely hyperventilating, by the time the man moved more than a shaky, uneven breath.

His eyes opened, revealing a drop-dead gorgeous icy blue. Eyelashes fluttered in the most enearding way as the man struggled to keep his consciousness to himself. Lips quivered as he whole face bunched together in an expression of pain.

Civilian didn't know if she could handle it.

"Are you doing to die?" She asked, rushed and abruptly. The man looked his clouded gaze on her. It took a moment, but he spoke,

"Heroes. Heroes, they are coming. Run, get outta here. Get outta here!"

Civilian shrieked, glancing hurriedly around. An insane plot twist, the good guys were the bad guys and...

Wait, this wasn't a movie.

And why was this man so scared of the heroes? Unless, of course, he was...

A villain.

Civilian covered her mouth and dropped to her knees. A v-v-villain? Was at her door? Civilian pinched herself to see if she was sleeping, but the nightmare didn't vanish. She was stuck in reality. Someone go get her a soda...

Villain's eyelids drooped as he weakly extended his arm. "Please," he begged. "I need help." Then his arm went slack.

Civilian was close to hysterics.

But nonetheless, out of fear, she grabbed the man's arm and attempted to pull him inside. She silently cursed. Her twigs for limbs could barely carry a box of mason jars; what made her think she could drag a two hundred pound full-grown adult male?

It was a taxing project that left Civilian in tangled limps, just begging for sleep. The man didn't stir at all, not even when Civilian's fist went into the gaping wound in his stomach.

Aw man, that was disgusting. Civilian vomited into a nearby trashcan before returning to figure out WHAT THE HECK TO DO!!!

"Can you wake up?" Civilian asked. "Please? I-i... how do I... how do I do this?"

Civilian was on the verge of tears, but then she reminded herself. This isn't a movie, he won't be miraculously healed after a good night's sleep.

With a quick reference to Google, Civilian finally felt prepared. She ran to get a pillow and slipped it under Villain's head. His eyelids fluttered as his eyes cracked open, but then they slipped close again.

Next she removed his shirt and was quite awestruck at the sight. Other than the painted crimson, his abdomen really was the definition of ab-domen. Hard muscles were lined perfectly.

Okay Civilian, someone is dying, don't admire it.

She placed one hand above and the other in the wound to staunch the bleeding. After the blood flow slowed, she lifted his legs to rest on the armrests in a similar position that she was in earlier.

Next, she jumped some hydrogen peroxide in and bandaged the wound. The villain never awoke.

Once the looming danger was gone, Civilian just stood there awkwardly. Dried blood crusted on his skin, but at least it wasn't wet.

So she stood there, arms crossed as meaningless thoughts rushed through her head.

What do call a male ladybug?

Is grass the earth's hair?

Do pineapples come from pine trees?

Why is a villain on my couch?

Civilian sat down, keeping a good three feet distance from the assumed murderer, and turned on the TV to resume her movie.

She leaned her head back, exhaustion tugging at her eyelids, but she refused sleep. Especially when a villain was slumbering next to her with one arm over his face.

He looked like a monkey.

One of those pale faced, brown haired primates from Curious George.

Not that his ears were splayed out or anything, the monkey had very tiny, collected ears that hid under his fluffy brown hair. His nose also held that itty-bitty appearance, perfectly formed to his face with the faintest trace of freckles.

He was cute.

Like a monkey.

Or not, as Civilian found monkeys utterly disgusting.

So cute, like a kitten.

Civilian smiled, looking down at her lap. Another thing Wikihow said that Civilian scowled at and ignored before. Put the victim's head in your lap to calm and keep them comfortable.

It wouldn't hurt, right? The villain wasn't even conscious, and he lost so much blood that he probably wouldn't remember anything if he did wake up.

She just met him.

Stress can increase heart rate which may be detrimental. Civilian scrunched her forehead. Was that even true?

Who cares. Civilian scotted her skinny self over and laid the villain's head in her lap. Then, temptation started its charismatic monologue.

Stroke his head. Be nice, clean his chin. Wipe the dirt off his eye.

Civilian hesitantly put her hand on his grimey hair- ew, he needed a shower ASAP- and gingerly patted it. Patted it, like petting a dog.

It was embarrassingly awkward.

For the next few hours, Villain slept. Civilian also dozed off between getting yummy smelling candles to fend off the revolting scent od blood and crackers to aimlessly gnaw on.

She watched through the first Kissing Booth and the second one when a thought struck her.

Pain.

The villain would be in pain when he woke up.

And the only thing Civilian had was Ibuprofen.

Like those barely took the edge off a headache, much less a gash the size of a baseball.

She reached for her phone to call her friend at the local drug store. Putting on a squeaky voice, Civilian said,

"Can you, uh, get me something for pain?"

"Slow down, Civilian. What?"

"I don't know benadryl or a very strong pain reliever," Civilian bit her lip, squeezing her eyes shut. Stupid stupid stupid...

"What did you do?"

"I, uh, sprained my ankle."

"You sprained your ankle?"

"Mhm hurts like-"

"Okay! I don't need your swear word dictionary. I'll bring you something after work."

"Thanks, oh owowowowowowo."

"Goodbye Civilian."

The line clicked.

Civilian smiled to herself and popped another cracker in her mouth. Problem solved.

The blood on the door.

Crap.

Civilian set Villain's head back on a pillow and ran to the frontdoor.

Great, just great.

Civilian flipped the middle finger at Villain's sleeping figure and walked out the door. She would meet her friend before she saw the splatters of blood.

Civilian sat herself on the curb, throwing her newly "spraind" leg out, letting out an insanely loud groan, and leaned back on her elbows.

"Oh my goodness! Civilian," her friend leaped from her black car and ran over. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Civilian waved it off. "Just wanted some air and the house is a mess, so."

Civilian, you are dumb.

"You sure? You asked to be hospitalized once because you stubbed your toe and the fact that a sprained ankle isn't bugging you... I am wholeheartedly worried."

"Don't be," Civilian chuckled. "How was work?"

Friend gave her a skeptical look. "Fine," she drawled.

"Good," Civilian nodded slowly, tapping the ground with her fingers. "So thank you for the painkillers."

"Mhm," Friend handed Civilian the plastic bag slowly. "How did you sprain it?"

"Uhhh fell out of the shower."

Friend looked genuinely concerned.

"Tripped and fell," Civilian repeated herself awkwardly. "On the ground?" Why did she have to say it as a question?

She was awkward and sounded hilariously awkward as well.

"Klutz," Friend joked, but her face was still taut with worry. "Need help getting inside?"

"No no!" Civilian exclaimed. Friend stepped back, so Civilian laughed to alleviate the tension. "I should walk it out."

"Ooookay," Friend said, nodding. "Good for you. I'm gonna go. I have a dinner date with this dude from Tinder."

"Oooo good luck," Civilian said, faking a wince as she stood up. Friend rushed in to help.

"Don't," Civilian cautioned, raising her "hurt" leg up. Friend looked at it and scowled.

"Dang leg huh? Well bye-bye. Don't fall out of the shower anymore. Got it?"

"Yup," Civilian said and fake limped back to her house as Friend sped away.

Missiom accomplished.

Villain was stirring when Civilian sat back down.

Perfect timing also.

She rummaged through the bag and grabbed a bottle of valium. She popped the recommended dosage out and approached Villain.

He was still too dazed and disoriented to stop Civilian from helping him swallow, but the second the water touched his tongue, he woke up fully.

"What are you doing? Don't touch me!" He yelled, pulling away. Civilian also backed away, a frown forming on her face.

"Me? I saved your life."

Villain was silent. "How much did you touch me?"

"Enough to save your life."

Villain jerked, looking around as if somone was in the shadows. Paranoid, Civilian copied him.

"What's wrong with you?" Civilian asked.

"You touched me?"

Civilian didn't say anything. She crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one leg, examining the villain.

Villain jerked to his feet, swaying madly. Civilian's heart jumped. He was so unsteady...

He fell, but Civilian swooped in to catch him.

For a moment, the villain melted into her half-embrace, head resting gently on her shoulder, before pulling away. He bit his cheeks, seemingly trying to keep tears back.

"What... are you? Are, are you scared of getting a hug? Sheesh."

"Mmm no," Villain shook his head quickly, then sat down as if the feat made him dizzy.

"Mmm yes," Civilian sat down next to him. The villain looked confused, but that may be the drugs kicking in.

Soon Villain's eyes starting to droop and he swayed in his sitting position.

"Whatdya give me?" He slurred, a faraway look in his eyes. "Mm tired." He collapsed forward.

Civilian steadied him and helped him lay back down. He groaned pathetically and grappled at Civilian's hand, desperate to hold it.

He held her hand until he fell asleep.

[softboywriting]

Almost Lost You | Ex Machina | Nathan Bateman

Summary: It takes Nathan nearly dying to realize he loves you, but he needs to know you feel the same and will take some unnecessary steps to find out instead of just asking you. [TW: Blood] [Following the ending events of the film] [Light Angst] [Fluff] [New AI] [TW: Near Death Situation] [Swearing] [Sexual Innuendos] [F!ReaderxNathan] 

Word Count: 5.1k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Fear. It's not something you would think was in Nathan's repertoire of emotions. In fact in the last year you've been living at the facility and testing his AI with him, you've never even caught a hint of it. But now, you can see he is no God. He is a man. He is a man and he bleeds like a man. The terror in his eyes as he looks to you desperately behind the glass door to his bedroom is not something you would soon forget. His white sweater is staining crimson, nearly black with the contrast of the bright hall lights.

Beyond the glass, mere feet from you is the remains of Kyoko, her face torn apart, system core damaged by a blow from a weight bar. You watched it all go down, stared in horror, screaming to warn him about Kyoko approaching with the knife. He couldn't hear you behind the soundproofed door. What would have happened if you had gone out there with him? Would Kyoko have attacked you too? What about Ava? He saved your life in retrospect. Perhaps you could have stopped them both. Perhaps you'd be dead. Perhaps now you wouldn't be watching your boss, your friend, the guy you've come to care far too much about, bleed to death.

Nathan raises his hand to you, and you lay yours on the glass. He mouths something that you can't quite make out. You'll never hear him behind this door and you've no idea how to override the system and take it out of lock down. He points and you look back at the computer on the desk behind you.

"Computer?" You mouth and he nods.

He makes a sign with his hand and you suddenly are grateful he was insistent that you learn to sign the alphabet when you took the job as his assistant. It was for just such an occasion. Should one of you get locked in a room, or to communicate with him on cams when you're around the AI without speaking. He holds up three fingers. That means three words. You turn and scramble to find a sticky note and a marker on his desk before returning to the window.

You bang on the glass and he lifts his head slowly. Your heart is pounding, he's fading fast. Losing him is not an option and at this point you'd rather be in his place.

Nathan carefully spells out the code to unlock the facility. B E A M.  M E. UP. He's such a Star Trek nerd. It figures that would be his override code.

You get up and pull up the system control program and type in his passcode. Sure enough the lights return to normal and the door latch clicks open. You race from the chair, shoving the door open and sinking down beside him. "You're a fucking nerd."

"Yeah thanks." He barely chuckles. "I'm going to die."

"No you're not." You tremble as you take his hand. It's cold, he's cold all over. Skin turning pale. "Nathan, listen to me you're not going to die like this."

"Honey, we're two hours from anyone else. I'm going to die. If you move me the bleeding will get worse. I can't walk, you can't carry me."

You cup his cheek. "I'll carry you. I-I'll pick you up and we can call emergency services. Hold on just a little longer."

Nathan lays his hand on your shoulder. "You were a good assistant. I know I was a pain in the ass and I told you that you sucked. But you didn't. You're very smart. You're the best I had."

"Shut up." You're crying. "Shut up and stop being nice to me!"

"You want me to be mean?"

"No, just shut up. I want you to stop acting like you're dying."

Nathan glaces down at his torso. "I got two holes in me. I don't know what's been punctured."

"Please." You stand and look down the hall. The landline phone is in his den. "Stay here."

"I'm not moving too fast honey."

"Obviously. I'm going to call for emergency services."

"Mmm. Do me a favor?"

"What?"

"Move Kyoko and Ava before they get here. I don't need to deal with questions."

"W-what?"

"I haven't exactly gone public with the AI."

You stand and pinch the bridge of your nose. "Nathan, if I don't leave them out here the medical staff will think I stabbed you."

"And you think they will believe that a robot did it instead? No. We will say there was an intruder, they attacked me and you hid. Break the glass in the kitchen from outside and make a mess as a cover."

"Jesus fucking Christmas. Okay whatever, just shut up and stay alive okay?" He gives a weak thumbs up and you go to the den to call out for help. You're going to call emergency services and he's going to get life flighted out and he is going to live. He's going to survive if it's the last thing you do.

_____________________

Nearly a month later and Nathan finally gets to go home. You haven't been back since you left in the helicopter with him. It took three bags of blood to keep him alive long enough to get him into the hospital. The doctors said he was lucky to be alive at all and it was a miracle he made it over four hours with wounds like his. Nothing was damaged internally. That's the crazy part. Kyoko just missed his heart by a mere five millimetres. The other wound just grazed his stomach but didn't cause any irreparable damage.

You spent every day at the hospital with him. He tried to get you to go home, to leave him there but you couldn't do that, you love him too much. Without you he had no one. His parents passed years ago. No siblings. No grandparents. You're his family. It's sad.

"You know we have to go to physical therapy twice a week." You say as the helicopter flies toward the facility, trees zipping by beneath you. "That means long flights in and out."

"I know." He rests his head back on the seat. "My work is there though. I can't just relocate without it."

"I haven't been back since we left that night."

"I know."

You shift your feet against the duffel bag of stuff you've been living out of for thirty three days. "It's going to be a mess."

Nathan chuckles. "I'm going to have to get new carpet."

"Yeah."

"How good are you at home renovation?"

"Um...I painted a room once?"

He opens his eyes and looks at you. It's so nice to see that playful spark. The memory of his face, scared to death and bleeding out, it haunts your dreams. "I guess we'll learn to lay carpet together."

"You're not doing anything of the sort."

"I'll supervise."

"Nathan. Just hire someone."

"I'd have to kill them. I can't just let people in the facility."

"Nathan!"

He raises his eyebrows. "You think I'm joking?"

You shake your head. "I'll put in your stupid floor. No Hitman needed. You're ridiculous."

"Careful. I am careful."

"Oh? Careful enough to get yourself sta-"

"Hey!"

You narrow your eyes. "Speaking of which. Will you rebuild them?"

"No. I think I'll try for a male model."

"Why?"

"For you."

"For me? What the fuck do I want with a robot?"

"Companionship. Besides, I've only made females. It's time to change it up. If I'm to release them to the world someday surely people will want all options available."

"Why not make it non gendered. Just a body, no determinate features?"

"That's not fun. You'll like him. I've already picked out a name."

You roll your eyes. "Of course you have."

Nathan taps his head. "I've got all the plans laid out right here."

"Mmmhmm. Gonna make him fuckable too? Like you did the others?"

"Damn right." He licks his lip and grins at you. "I know you're curious."

You would never admit it but you are. You will definitely not be doing anything remotely sexual with the robot male. Absolutely off the table. If Nathan thinks you're gonna do anything he had best start finding a new assistant. You have put up with enough. ______________________

It takes Nathan no time to build this new AI. Everything is all at his disposal. He's made several. All it takes a few adjustments to the body forms, simple enough, some wiring changes and such. New downloads for his AI system to make them male presenting. It's all of a week of almost non stop work but by Tuesday you're being called to the lab to see his pride and joy.

You push in the door to the lab and enter the darkened entry way. It's almost midnight. You were nearly asleep when Nathan came on over the intercom system demanding you come to the lab. You wipe your eyes, sleep heavy in them. The bright blue lights blind you as you step into his work area.

"I'm here. Where are you?"

"In the back! I'm just making some adjustments!"

You wander past the tables strewn with parts and pieces and notes and diagrams. Mostly Greek to you. "I was almost asleep. This had better be g-"

Nathan steps aside and sitting on the table is another Nathan. No beard but a fine five o'clock shadow, short dark hair. If you didn't know better you'd think Nathan was pranking you with his own twin. But you do know that he is an only child. Which, how very much like Nathan to make the male in his own image. How self absorbed.

"Say hello." Nathan, the real Nathan, says as he gestures to the AI.

"Why does he look like you?"

"Who better to look like?"

You shake your head and walk up to the AI. You look closely, carefully. The hair looks real, the facial hair looks real. Like Kyoko he has skin head to toe. He's covered at the waist by a sheet and you presume Nathan is doing so as some sort of ego inflating reveal of what is probably an exact replica of his own dick. But that aside, the AI physically is flawless.

"Tell her your name." Nathan says.

"I'm Nate." The AI says with a soft smile. "Nice to meet you."

You look over at your boss. "You called him Nate? You couldn't even give him his own name?"

"He has his own name.  My name is Nathan. His is Nate."

"You're a jerk."

Nate extends his hand to you. "What is your name?"

"That's a secret." You smile slyly at Nathan and look back to Nate.

"A secret name? How intriguing. Nathan, do you know her name?"

Nathan chuckles. "Yes, but it seems she wants to keep it to herself now. Maybe you will have to earn it from her."

"Earn? Like a prize. Your name is a game?"

You giggle. "Sure. I'm going to go to bed now. I will probably see you two tomorrow?"

"Perhaps."

"Super." You say sarcastically. This is going to be interesting. You've tested his AI many times, spending hours talking with Ava and Kyoko. They were essentially the same AI in the end. This one could be different. You look back as you stand in the doorway. Nate waves to you and you see Nathan turn to look at you, giving a thumbs up. Here you go. Getting in too deep. You should have taken that desk job at the Hilton hotel.

_____________________

"Where is Nate?"

"He is in the test room." Nathan brings his glass of orange juice to his lips. "Why?"

You shrug. "Just wondering."

"Curious?"

"I suppose." You sit back and push your mostly empty breakfast plate away. "It's just weird you introduced me and then just never said anything else again. It's been a week."

Nathan raises his eyebrows. "I've been fine tuning him. Making sure all the eggs are in the basket."

"Uh huh."

"You'll see him soon enough. I've got your first date set on the calendar."

"Date? You mean my first session."

Nathan smirks. "Sure."

"I'm not dating your robot. Get fucked Nathan."

"Oh I hope to."

"Too bad your fuck toys tried to kill you so you had to decommission them."

"You assume I wouldn't fuck Nate."

"You're disgusting."

"Everyone wants to know what they fuck like. Of course I'd fuck myself."

You roll your eyes. "How conceited. By the way, no, not everyone would fuck themselves. You're disgusting. And Nate is not you."

"Isn't he though?"

"No." You push away and stand beside the table, gathering your dishes. "He might have your face but he doesn't have this fucked up brain." You tap your glass to his head and he scowls.

Nathan stands and follows you into the kitchen. "You think he's going to be better than me?"

"No one said that. I just said he isn't you. I know damn well you can't download your consciousness into an AI. So Nate might be your twin but he isn't you."

He just hums. That's it.  No more or less. Just a little hmm. It pisses you off. For some reason you're defensive of Nate and you barely know him yet. He's a robot. He's not real. Not...alive.

_____________________

"Good morning."

You sit up and rub yours eyes, vision clearing to that of Nathan sitting on the end of your bed. No. It's Nate. "What are you doing in my room?"

"Nathan sent me. He said that I should wake you up."

You glare at the camera in the corner of the room. The one Nathan claims is for security purposes only. "This is my private space. You're not welcome."

Nate looks to where you are looking. "Technically the facility belongs to Nathan and this room is borrowed by yourself."

"It's still my space. Nathan! I know you're watching! This is not okay!"

Nate stands and moves across the room to stand in front of your closet.

You get off the bed and go to the door to go find Nathan. If he thinks letting Nate roam the facility unchecked is okay, he's gone mad. None of the AI have been allowed as such except for Kyoko. Obviously we see how that ended up. "Nathan! You better show you're stupid fucking-"

Nathan steps out of the kitchen and you glare. "Did you get my messenger dove?"

"Messenger...Nate? You are serious about letting him just roam free?"

"Yep."

"Did you forget what happened with Kyoko or?"

Nathan pushes his glasses up. "I thought you'd like him to wake you up. You seem pretty taken with him."

"We've barely spoken."

"Yet you were curious about him, defending him and his unlikeness to me. Tell me, why?"

"I don't know. Get him out of my bedroom."

"Talk to him."

"No. I want to be in the test room. I've never been one on one like this besides Kyoko. It's weird and I don't feel safe."

"I promise he is safe. Touch him, talk to him. Seriously, I want to run this experiment differently than the others."

You look down the hall to your bedroom door that's wide open. "What if something happens?"

"Nothing will happen. Go on. I promise he isn't going to hurt you."

You swallow harshly. That's what you're precisely afraid of. Nate could easily overpower you and who knows how strong he is. You take a deep breath and head back to your room. This is what you signed up for. This is your job.

_____________________

"Where were you born?" Nate asks you when you walk in the bedroom.

"Um, I was born here in Alaska."

Nate walks beside your bed and you take a seat awkwardly. "I don't know where I was born."

"You weren't born. You were made. Here, by Nathan."

"Oh, yes. I suppose it's strange to think of being made and not born. What should I call you? I still do not know your name. Nathan would not tell me."

"Whatever you like. I’m still going to keep my name a secret. Names hold too much power."

"Kitten." Nate looks proud of himself. "I will call you Kitten."

You can't help the little chuckle that comes out. "Why Kitten?"

"I don't know. I just chose a random name from pet names I found in a Blue Book search just now."

"Alright. I'll take it."

Nate sits beside you. "Do I look like Nathan?"

"Yes."

"I thought I might. I've not seen myself in a mirror yet."

You stand and grab Nate's hand. It's surprisingly warm to the touch. "Come with me." You take him to your bathroom and stand in front of the mirror. "That's you."

Nate leans in and turns his head side to side. "Am I handsome?"

You cannot stifle the giggle that bubbles out. "Yeah, you're pretty handsome."

"Are you attracted to Nathan?"

"In a way I suppose yes."

"In a way? Does that mean you are only attracted to part of him?"

You sit on the toilet seat and sigh. "It's hard to explain. Nathan is visually attractive to me, and mentally. His intellect is outstanding and I'm fascinated by his brain."

"But?"

"But...he can be harsh. He can be cold and unyielding and stubborn. He is difficult oftentimes. I think he struggles to express himself."

Nate looks at you, staring to the point you feel uneasy.

"What? Is something wrong?"

"You are beautiful."

"Oh. Thanks?"

"You are welcome but it was not a favor. No need for thanking."

"How does a robot gauge beauty? Are you programmed to find me attractive?"

Nate shakes his head and stares at the shower stall behind you. "I do not know. I am not aware of all of my programming. Nathan has restricted access to much of my coding."

"Interesting. Well, I’m going to shower. You can go away and do whatever Nathan wants you to do."

"I will wait."

"Wait? For me?"

"Yes. Nathan wants me to accompany you while he works. So I will wait for you to finish."

"Wait in the bedroom then."

"Okay. Should I pick out some clothes for you?"

"N-no. I will do that."

Nate nods and goes out the door.

You lean against the wall and sigh. This is so strange. If Nathan wants him to pass the Turing Test he is flying through it. You've not spoken to him very long but it's hard to grasp that he's not a person. He's not alive technically. And what's with Nathan hiding his coding? What's that about? Ava and Kyoko knew how they were made and how they accessed information. Why would he keep things from Nate?

_____________________

"So, how's Nate?" Nathan asks over dinner two days later.

You haven't spoken to him since he had Nate wake you up. You assume he's been in his lab or in the office observing you and Nate. There is no doubt he's done that actually. Every moment you spend with Nate is a session, part of the experiment.

"He's good." You say softly. "May be your best work yet."

"Oh? I sorted out those bugs from Ava then?"

"Mmmhmm." You sip your wine and he smirks. "It's hard to tell he isn't a person."

Nathan hums approvingly. "He has already passed?"

"Yeah, I'd like to say so. I have a question though."

"Shoot."

"Why are you restricting his coding? Why isn't he able to access his programming details?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"The first day he told me I was beautiful. Now, he's a robot and doesn't have a type or anything without it being hardwired into him. So I asked him if you programmed him to be attracted to me and he could not tell me."

"He lied." Nathan leans back on his chair. "Day one and he already lies like a human. That's incredible."

You narrow your eyes. "Sounds fishy. Maybe his progress should be monitored within the contained setting then. How long before he gets out? Before he decides to take a stroll in the woods and never comes back?"

"You're worried about him leaving?"

"It could happen right?"

"Yes, in theory, but I've programmed him not to want to do so."

"I don't understand why you made him at all. He says he is meant to accompany me while you work, but I am your assistant. I'm supposed to be with you, not your robot."

Nathan leans forward, elbows braced on the table. "I made him because I want to test him in a different setting than we had Ava. I think that's what drove her to revolt."

"You trap and piss off anything with sentience in a box long enough it will snap. How long before Nate realizes the whole facility is a box he's trapped in?"

"There you go worrying about him leaving. Why?"

"Because! He could be dangerous!"

Nathan shakes his head. "No you're worried about him escaping because you like him. You like him don't you?"

"Of course I like him. He's an incredible piece of technology that-"

"No." Nathan holds his hand up. "You have feelings for him."

"Absolutely not. He isn’t a person."

"Mmm. Your eyes give away everything."

You glare at him. "What do they give away now?"

"I'm getting a real fuck you vibe."

"Nailed it."

He chuckles. "Don't worry. I've collected most of the information I need. I'll put Nate away before we get to the point of him wanting to escape."

"What? Why?"

"I can't have a man with my face running around forever. He's a prototype like the rest."

"Oh."

"Don't be so surprised, Honey. You're giving away your true feelings again."

"Fuck you."

"Is that an offer?"

"Shut up." ______________________

The day Nathan comes to your room and takes Nate you realize that he is jealous of his own creation.

You and Nate had been laying on the bed talking as you usually did after you cleaned, scheduled appointments and played housekeeper all day. It was a normal conversation about your life and how you grew up and where and what school was like, but then Nate asked to try something new. That new thing happened to be kissing. At first you thought it was strange, to be kissing something not technically human. But then you found you liked it. His lips were soft, plush, and warm. He felt like any other guy you had kissed before. Then you realized those were Nathan's lips. Nathan's hands on your hip and cradling your cheek. That thought was both conflicting and arousing. So you went deeper, kissing him back, putting your hand in his hair, aching for more. If Nathan wanted this he wouldn’t have put it in Nate’s programming right?

Suddenly Nate was being pulled away from you, and you could see Nathan at the end of the bed holding his creation as he powered down. It was then you realized he was jealous of Nate. The way Nathan said nothing, just looked irritated, the words were all there. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want Nate to touch you like this.

After that everything began to make sense. Nathan made Nate in his image to test your attraction to him. He hid the coding because he programmed his own attraction to you into Nate. This has been an experiment but not for the progression of AI. It's been an experiment for Nathan to gauge if you like him more than an employee employer relationship. He is so stupid. He really didn’t see how much you care for him.

Just hours after Nathan took Nate from you, you find yourself outside the lab. The door is locked so you know Nathan is inside. He always hides in there. You type in your door code to override the lock.  

"System override failed."

You scan your ID card.

"User not permitted."

"Nathan! I know you're in there!" You lean your head on the door. "We need to talk!"

He doesn't hear you. Of course he doesn't. The idiot genius soundproofed everything. You look to the camera and wave at it. There's a chance he has up the camera feed at the desk.

No response.

"If you wanted to ask me out you didn't have to make a fucking robot to do it!"

The door clicks behind you and you press in to open it. Inside is Nathan parked at his computer, eyes glued to the screen while his fingers go a mile a minute.

"You heard me and you know it."

"What do you want? I'm busy."

"Why did you take Nate?"

Nathan doesn’t look away but you can tell he has an eyebrow quirked up. "Take him? I told you I would be putting him away soon. I got what I needed."

You walk around in front of his computer monitors and he flicks his eyes up for just a moment. "What was it you needed?"

"Data. I collected what I needed. You were very helpful. Good job." He sounds so sarcastic it's sickening. "What did you really come here for?"

You sigh. "Nathan, do you like me?"

"Of course I like you. I wouldn't have hired you and let you into my facility if I didn't."

"That isn't what I mean."

He sighs irritably.

"Use your words genius."

"Go away."

"No. I want answers. Why did you make Nate look like you? Why did you make him attracted to me? Why did you hide his coding so he couldn't tell me if he was programmed to do or say certain things? Why did you bust in when he kissed me?"

"I told you! I needed to collect data! I got what I needed!"

"Data for what?! For what, Nathan?!"

He pushes away from the desk and stands, eyes locked on yours. "For me!"

You fold your arms over your chest. "Answer the questions then. Do you like me? More than your assistant. Do you enjoy my company and are you attracted to me?"

"Yes, yes to all of the fucking above." He clenches his jaw. "There. Happy?"

"Not really. I don't exactly understand why you had to go through all this shit to admit that or bring it up. I watched you dying just over a month and a half ago and I-" your voice stops as your emotions get the best of you. Your chest tightens up and you can't breathe. "I stayed in that hospital every day with you."

"I know."

"I had nightmares every fucking night because of you." You're crying, shaking, hands clenched in your shirt. "I would wake up and lay my hand on your chest to make sure you were breathing because I was so fucking scared of losing you."

Nathan swallows hard. "I know."

"After all that, you had to make an AI to find out if I am attracted to you? To find out that I care about you?"

"I just- I thought you might just have felt compelled to do all of that because of your job."

"My job?! Nathan! You may be a genius but fuck you are moron when it comes to reading people! If I just cared about the job I would have fucking left. I wouldn't have lived in a hospital room for thirty three fucking days if I didn't love you."

Nathan stares over his glasses and it's not condescending at all. In fact he looks floored, bewildered by your words. "You love me?"

"Yes." You walk around the desk and stand in front of him only inches away. "I love you and I'm attracted to you and I want to be here with you as more than your assistant. Nate really solidified that for me because when he kissed me all I could think about was you, all I could imagine was your hands and your lips. Which they kind of were but-"

Nathan grabs your face, hands cradling your cheeks and pulls you in for a kiss. "Couldn't stand seeing him kiss you."

"So you were jealous?"

He licks into your mouth and you let out a soft moan. He kisses far better than Nate, but you suppose it's because he is human with actual experience. "Never thought I could be jealous of my own creation. I knew I couldn't let him fuck you and if things kept going the way they were, well..."

"That wouldn't have happened."

Nathan chuckles deeply. "Oh I think you would have been convinced. You let him kiss you after all and you were getting very into it."

"Sure you didn't wanna see that? Watch your own likeness fuck me?"

"So you would have done it? Would have gotten off on knowing I watched?" He slides his hands up your back and pulls you to his chest. "You're kinkier than I thought."

You roll your eyes. "And you're a narcissist."

"Maybe. But you like it."

"I like most things about you, even your insufferable ego, but I don't know if narcissism is one of the things I like."

"Mmm. Tell me, would you be up for some fun with Nate? You me and him?"

"Nathan! Jesus Christ I tell you I love you and you want a threesome?!"

He laughs. "I'm joking. I love you too by the way. You really wormed your way into my heart and made a little nest." He runs his hand through your hair. "My kitten."

"Wait... that's what Nate called me because I wouldn't give him my name."

"I know."

"But he said he picked it at random."

"No. I programmed him to call you that. It's my favorite nickname." He leans in and kisses your nose. "You seemed to like it."

"I do."

"Then I'll keep it. I like it better than honey or sweetheart." He presses his head to yours and you stare back at him, his eyes such a beautiful amber brown. "Thank you by the way."

"For what?"

"For saving my life. I never thanked you. If you hadn't been there I would have died."

You wrap your arms around his back and grip his shoulders. "If you hadn't locked me in the office we both would be dead."

"I don't think so. You would have been able to warn me about Kyoko. I was outnumbered without you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to watch that all happen." Nathan presses a hard kiss to your forehead and his beard tickles your nose. "I love you."

"I love you too."

"Even though I'm difficult and horrible at reading people?"

"Even though you're difficult, horrible at reading people, terrible at socializing and far too egotistical for your own good. You have my heart."

He smiles softly and you think you might melt. "I'll take good care of it. I promise."

"Good. I'm trusting you."

"And I'm trusting you. Finally."

End

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Header by delicate-venus

Thank you for reading. Please reblog if you read or are going to read! Thank you! - A