#which makes it a pleasant surprise on the off chance he does get along with them

[deathfavor]

Anonymous said: Seiroku, what's your opinion on red souls? Do you tend to like them or dislike them? Do you generally get along with them or not?

   He contemplates ignoring the question altogether - but ultimately decides to answer. After all, it’s not as if there’s anything to lose with it.

   “  My opinion? They’re monsters when it comes to pure power and it goes to their head.  “  Silky strands of hair fall over his back as he pushes his ponytail over his shoulder.  “  More brawn than brain a lot of the time who often put little regards to their own life. They’re the worst kind of patients to deal with as well. They rarely have things heal properly because they won’t listen or follow proper healing procedure, they’re usually too stubborn to come in, and it’s never simple wounds or illnesses if they DO decide to come in.  “  Just the mere thought has annoyance igniting in his chest. All his worst patients in the past had been red souls - certainly the top five worst at the very least were.

 “  Does that sound like the type of person I like or get along with?  “  He frowns, raising an eyebrow.  “  No. Also they’re annoying to kill. Like cockroaches, except armed. So worse, who knew?  “  A malicious grin pulls at his lips.  “  Maybe because there’s less brain activity going on for them. But they are INFINITELY more fun to shatter and break than the other colors, they never can wrap their heads around being beaten.  “  Truly, the expressions were something to be unrivaled. When they went from acting untouchable to realizing they were prisoners of their own flesh and blood and physical limitations while Seiroku shattered both mind and body.  “ They also tend to be extremely rude and have poor manners. And less out of lack of understanding like Shiro and more of a choice on their part. Or they claim mannerism clashes with their personality. I for one think it’s more of their EGO. So no. I don’t generally like them nor do I have interest in getting along with them. “  

  It seems that is ALL he intends to say, but he gives pause before adding.  “  Not ALL of them are like that. I’ve met one or two well-mannered ones who I could get along well with and whose company I could enjoy. But they are the exception to the usual situation when it comes to that particular soul color. So I don’t judge purely off soul color, I give them a chance. But most of them blow it very quickly.  “

[lovelucilfer]

self indulgent fluff for my beloved husband's birthday!! after worrying that I wouldn't have anything to post for him, I somehow managed to write this. I love him and he deserves nothing but softness. happy birthday to my favourite uchiha. 🍅🍙💙

The first thing Sasuke notices when he wakes, sitting up as he blinks the sleep from his tired eyes, is the unusual absence on your side of the bed. It's rare for you to rouse before he does, but a press of his hand to the sheets and the warmth still clinging to them tells him that you're not far. Though he already has a sneaking suspicion as to where you've disappeared to. One that makes a fond smile tug at the corners of his lips as he gets up.

Instead of going about his morning routine as he usually would, Sasuke wanders out from your bedroom, padding carefully down the hallway towards the kitchen of your home. This is where you are, he's certain of it — if the sweet, resounding hum of your voice and clattering dishes are anything to go by.

Sure enough, as he breaches the doorway, leaning against its frame, there you are. The sight of you makes Sasuke soften, his muscles going lax as he refrains from making his presence known just yet. You're still in your pajamas, hair thrown up into a haphazard bun to keep it from falling into your eyes as you cook. He takes his time letting his heavily lidded gaze roam over you, appreciating every curve and inch of your exposed skin as you work; the crook of your neck, the inviting slope of your shoulder, and your bare thighs. All favourite places of his.

Sasuke knows that you know what day it is, and the thought that you've gone out of your way to wake up earlier than you typically like to in order to make him breakfast has warmth spreading through his chest. The small ways in which you show your love for him, and choose to celebrate him, never going unnoticed. His fingers twitch with want as he pushes himself from the door, tempted to reach out and pull you close as he splays them over your skin.

"You're up early." Sasuke murmurs, startling you with the low rasp of his voice, a hint of amusement in his tone as he watches you turn your head to look at him with pleasant surprise.

His name falls from your lips at the familiar sound, breathy and affectionate, and a smirk tugs at his lips in response as he quietly closes the distance between the two of you. Sasuke's hand finds your hip to give it a gentle squeeze in greeting. Dropping his head to nose along your neck, he breathes you in before brushing his lips against your shoulder.

"I am," you confirm, a giggle bubbling up from your mouth as Sasuke's hair tickles you, "Go sit, it's almost ready."

Sasuke hums, reluctant to pull away from the comfort of your body heat, but moves to seat himself at the kitchen table as per your request. He knows better than to argue, and he wouldn't want you to think that the effort of your doting gesture has been lost on him. It's quite the opposite, as he gazes at you there's nothing but unadulterated love in his eyes. You can see it too, suddenly feeling shy as you set his food down in front of him. It isn't uncommon for you to make breakfast, but something about this morning, knowing you've made it especially with him in mind has it feeling extra special.

When Sasuke glances down at the plate before him on the table his heart squeezes in his chest. All of his favourites are included, prepared undoubtedly with love and care, but there's one thing in particular that has an unexpected rush of emotion catching him off guard. Cherry tomatoes, that you've somehow managed to slice deftly into the shape of small hearts.

You worry at your bottom lip as you arrange your own breakfast, skimming through your mind for anything you could have missed while you wait for the telltale sound of Sasuke's hum of approval. It's a sound you've become partial to, taking pleasure in it whenever you get the chance to cook for the both of you. But it doesn't come, and you can feel the weight of Sasuke's gaze, the silence eating away at you as your pulse quickens with concern.

"Is it too much? It's silly... childish, I know—" you stammer, shaking your head as heat starts to rise to your face in embarrassment, turning to look at him only to be met with the hard plane of his chest, "Mm!"

You're interrupted by the firm press of Sasuke's lips to yours, his hand finding the small of your back with practiced ease as he circles your waist, scooping you into his embrace as he kisses you. It's all-consuming, the kind of kiss that steals your breath and has you chasing after his mouth once he pulls away — as is every kiss Sasuke initiates, you've found. You flush at the sudden proximity, melting at the feel of his hot breath fanning out over your lips as your own hands come up to cup his face instinctively. Brushing your thumbs along his jaw, your eyes search his, filled with love and longing.

"It's perfect." He insists, his voice carrying a warmth and tenderness saved solely for you as he dispels your worries, "Thank you."

Sasuke's words are saturated with sincerity, his gratitude evident as he punctuates them with yet another deep, fervent kiss. He feels your arms slide up to wrap around his neck as he captures your lips, revelling in the way that you arch into him, even as he pulls away to study your delicate features. Several moments pass as you peer at one another, time seeming to suspend itself as the two of you bask in the intimate exchange.

"Happy birthday, Sasuke." you tell him finally, your voice dripping with adoration as you brush the hair from his face, wanting to look at him fully.

It makes Sasuke's heart skip a beat, fluttering in his chest as he peers down at you with a soft reverence that speaks volumes to the depths of his love and appreciation for you. Seeing the same love reflected back at him in your eyes, he can't help but to smile. He knows that in that moment, every birthday from here on will be a good one, so long as he gets to spend it by your side.

[gabessquishytum]

i was thinking about that reddit post about the guy who married a friend out of mutual convenience and came to reddit asking for advice on how to start actually dating his husband (twitter link because the original is deleted, https://twitter.com/redditships/status/1241613092875841536?s=20) and you know what. dreamling au? dreamling au.

like. just imagine? prince dream who's being pressured constantly to marry, every single time someone high-enough ranking visits the palace he's dragged off to be introduced to their daughters, he's so tired of it. hob's parents are the king and queen of a neighbouring kingdom, dream's parents have been trying to get a solid treaty established for years, so when they make an offer that includes a generous trade deal and the marriage of dream to their daughter? it's agreed on before dream even has a chance to argue.

dream's fully prepared to have a loveless marriage that's amicable at best, but when he meets his new "wife", well... hob's hardly what he expected. he's very clear on the point that he's not a woman, for one. he's prepared to pretend in public if he absolutely has to but he's not and won't pretend he is in private -- and he doesn't seem to quite know what to do with himself when dream tells him that he's really very fine with that? he's not sure how much he can do for hob at court, he only has so much power as a prince, but he promises he'll do what he can to let hob be comfortable in their private lives.

turns out, dream can do a lot more than that. the king and queen die only a few months after dream and hob are married, and dream promptly sets about revising a few marriage and gender laws. and when hob can finally come to court and present himself as dream's husband... he's so happy, dream's never seem him smiling so much, and dream looks at his husband who's finally able to be himself and dream realizes he is. maybe having. some feelings.

-🐈‍⬛

I’m so in love with Hob “call me a girl and I will cut your dick off” Gadling.

He’s terrified by the prospect of this marriage and has very low expectations of his future husband. Dream is a very pleasant surprise, considering what Hob was imagining! He can use his proper name, he can dress as he likes, he can be a man! Finally! It’s a life he never dreamed of having, even if it can only happen in private.

And then Dream actually changes the world for him, and Hob can’t quite believe it at first. He thinks it must be a joke when Dream asks him to help ratify certain new laws. But Dream doesn’t make jokes like that, and he wants to be sure that he uses the right words and that these laws will last forever. And of course Hob does his best to help and offer up his own opinions on how things should be changed. Dream listens to him carefully and it’s like he’s making Hob’s dreams come true all over again. All he says is that Hob is his husband. Of course he wants him to be safe and happy.

How can Hob help falling in love with Dream? This man has gone above and beyond what’s necessary to make him happy. He’s accepted Hob for who he is, and he’s made damn sure that everyone else accepts him too. Hob wants to kiss his perfect, serious little mouth every hour of the day. He’s never been in love before, and now he’s falling more in love with his husband as every day passes.

They sleep together in same bed (it’s big enough for at least six people), and although they start out on opposite sides of the massive mattress, every single morning Hob wakes up with Dream in his arms. Somewhere along the way in the night, they gravitate towards each other and end up snuggled in one little ball of repressed feelings and not-really-unrequited love.

It’s only a matter of time before Dream leans up and kisses his husband good morning. It happens accidentally, when he’s still half asleep, but it finally breaks the seal on their mutual pining. Hob smiles and pulls the covers up over both of their heads, making a cozy little nook in which he can press Dream backwards and finally kiss him properly.

(Hob was always terrified by the idea of consummating a marriage. But now Dream calls him Robert, beloved husband, it doesn’t seem quite so scary anymore.)

[shou-jpeg]

-Back on the Beat-

Part 2. 06

October 26th, 5:39pm

Kim is feeling… unsettled. 

If he didn’t know better, he would say he was nervous. Except Kim does know better and he doesn’t get nervous. 

He’s frustrated because he can’t figure out what to wear, and he’s changed his outfit four times now. 

But he isn’t nervous. 

Jimbo, Kim’s cat, intermittently walks into the bedroom, only to walk back out again a few minutes later. As if he wants to be in there with Kim, but the tension is too much for him to stay long.

Kim sighs. 

Tonight is family dinner night. It’s a new weekly tradition Kinn and Porsche are trying to make happen, and tonight will be the third night they hold it. For Kim, it will be his first night attending. He doesn’t mind spending time with Khun, but Kim doesn’t get along too well with Kinn, and he’s hardly exchanged more than two words with Porsche. His father will also be there, which is never an appealing situation. 

Normally, Kim would avoid such an event and ignore Khun’s hassling until his attendance is given up on. 

Except Porchay asked Kim to come. 

Kim thinks he would go through far more grueling activities than family dinner in order to spend time with Porchay. 

And… this will be the first time since they broke up that Kim and Porchay will be spending an extended period of time in the same room together. 

They might even get a chance to talk. 

…

Maybe Kim is a little nervous. 

But only to see Porchay. 

They’ve been texting most days recently. The topics they talk about vary a lot, and Porchay is usually the one to initiate the conversation. He also asks for pictures of Kim’s cat on a regular basis, and Kim has taken to bringing his phone with him around the house so he can snap pictures of Jimbo for the next time Porchay asks for them.

Kim looks down at the leather jacket in his hands and holds back a smile. 

…

He really needs to get going though, or he will be late. 

Well… later than he already is anyway. 

Kim throws on the first outfit he tried 45 minutes ago, checks himself in the mirror for another ten minutes, gives Jimbo a scratch under his chin and leaves his apartment. He’s now running almost 25 minutes late for dinner. 

Kim arrives at the compound dining room just as the staff are putting food on the table. Kinn and Porsche both look surprised to see him, but Kim ignores them in favour or looking at Porchay. They lock eyes, and Porchay smiles gently at Kim. 

Kim’s heart soars. 

“It’s not nice to be tardy, little brother!” Tankhun remarks haughtily, pulling Kim’s attention away from Porchay. If Kim didn’t know Khun so well, he would miss the pleased look that Khun is trying to hide in favour of his fake exasperation. 

“Hush, Tankhun,” Korn says “it’s lovely for you to join us, Kim. What a pleasant surprise!” Korn looks every bit the pleased, loving father he pretends to be on the outside. Kim sends him his most charming smile. 

“I happened to be in the area, thought I should stop by at least once.” Tankhun huffs at his excuse, but he still looks pleased as he begins sorting through the food on the table. 

Kinn doesn’t say anything, but he does have a hint of a smile on his face as he follows Khun’s lead with the food. 

Perhaps tonight won’t be such a struggle after all.

The staff bring out an extra table setting for Kim, and he begins serving himself some rice.

The conversation at the table kicks off when Porsche turns to Porchay and asks him about the garden bed he's been cultivating under the watchful eye of the family's gardener. Kim makes a mental note to ask Porchay more about his flowers if they get a chance to talk and he needs something to fall back on.

Khun makes a comment about how delicious his food is, but how the pad kra pao could have been better. Kim silently agrees, but only because his pad kra pao is one of the best things he cooks. He was taught how to make it by their previous head chef when he was fourteen, and he perfected it when he moved out. Ever since that chef retired, the dish cooked by anyone else has never managed to please the table, and it’s almost guaranteed that Khun will comment on it. Kim has been meaning to make some for Khun, but he's a little nervous he won't live up to the standard. 

Just as Kim is starting to think family dinner isn’t so bad after all, Korn turns to Kinn and Porsche and begins to talk business. 

Which of course means various metaphors instead of actually talking directly, even though everyone at the table knows exactly what is being discussed. 

"Kinn, how did the meeting go last week? Did you sort out the issue with the bread?”

“Yes pa. The bread is running through the clubs with our regular bakers once more. There was a slight disagreement regarding the ingredients used but it has now been sorted out.”

“Wonderful news. Well done. I knew you could handle the situation,” Korn remarks jovily. Kim internally rolls his eyes. He would bet good money the issue was actually caused by Korn’s own devices as some way of testing Kinn. 

Kim’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and he turns away from the conversation to fish it out. 

Kim’s hand flies up to his mouth, but he’s not nearly quick enough to stifle the loud snort-laugh he lets out at Porchay’s message. 

The table goes quiet as everyone turns to look at Kim in surprise, Porchay looking at him in delight, though he’s trying to hide it. It’s not working. 

“Sorry,” Kim explains, “I ate too quickly.” His face feels like it’s burning, and he keeps his head down as he fishes a piece of tofu off his place. 

The conversation resumes, but Kim is no longer paying it any attention.

How fucking embarrassing. 

Kim looks up at Porchay, who is already watching him with a pleased smile. They lock eyes for a moment before Kim feels like he needs to look away once more, unsure how to handle the soft look on Porchay’s face.

Dinner passes without further incident, Khun asks Kim a few things about his music and demands photos of Jimbo and Kim makes a mental note to send Khun a few of the pictures he’s been taking for Porchay.

The night winds down and eventually Korn retires for the evening. Kinn and Porsche have been giving each other bedroom eyes for the past half hour, and excuse themselves shortly after.

Tankhun looks to Kim like he’s about to say something, but changes his mind and excuses himself with a swish of his long cloak and a request for Kim to join them next time. 

Kim doesn’t think he can handle another family dinner.

He’s standing up to leave when Porchay speaks up. He’s still sitting at the table, picking at the edge with his fingers.

“It’s good you could come. They always serve too much food and I feel awful leaving it on the table.”

“Don’t. The staff eat any leftovers so it doesn’t go to waste.”

“Ah.” Porchay looks down at the table, fiddling with his thumbs. The suspended silence is awkward, but Kim still hesitates to leave. 

Just as he decides he should probably go, Porchay speaks again.

“Hey, are you busy after this?” he asks.

“Mm no, I was just going to head back home and do some work.”

“Oh... are you working on new music?”

“Maybe. Not sure if this one is going anywhere yet though.” Kim shuffles his feet. He's not sure what to do with his hands, and tucks them away in his pockets.

“Well…” Porchay pauses, as if unsure of his next words, “um, if you’re free for a little while, can you come upstairs with me?”

Kim’s brain short circuits. What?

Porchay continues quickly, “I’m fine tuning my latest shit post and I could use your critical eye.”

Kim doesn't know what to say. Porchay fiddles with his fingers some more, looking down at the table top and back up at Kim, and then looks away again.

"Yeah," Kim eventually finds his voice "Yeah of course. Lead the way."

END OF PART 2

< Prev - Next >

First

[neopuff]

ALWAYS ON MY MIND

chapter three: a piece of my mind ships: sasha/milla characters: milla, truman, forsythe, 33, sasha, oleander, otto, sherri ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53435410/chapters/135591166

[chap 1] [chap 2]

-

The next morning, Milla made her way to the Grand Head's office for an early morning meeting. She was very comfortable speaking to Truman - he was a friendly man and when he wasn't too terribly busy they got along just fine. However, lately he had been so busy that they really hadn't had a lot of chances to speak. 

Their meeting the previous morning had been the first time Milla had spoken to him in almost two weeks. Occasionally he would pawn her off on Agent Forsythe, but Milla didn't have the same history with her nor the same level of comfort. 

Milla took a seat in the chair she always sat in, brushing dust off the end of her dress. Truman was already looking anxious, ready for his next meeting which was undoubtedly going to involve something to do with finances. From her perspective, it seemed like the Psychonauts were always dealing with financial problems.

“So how did the training go with Agent Nein yesterday?” Truman asked Milla curiously. “I hope he was as helpful with training as he was with your tour last month.”

Milla had a feeling he was going to ask her that, and she had already planned to respond with a follow-up question. “Truman…I’ve noticed that you only seem to ask me this type of question after I spend time with Agent Nein. I've also worked with Agents Forsythe and Oleander and Aaronson, so it makes me wonder…is there something wrong with Agent Nein that I should know about?”

Truman chuckled and scratched the side of his head. Then he stood up, stretched, and cracked his back. “To be perfectly honest Milla, it's because I've heard…complaints about Agent Nein. It's nothing that I've seen personally, just talk around the rumor mill. I figured a fresh face like yours would give me an unbiased perspective on how Agent Nein handles himself around other Psychonauts.”

“Oh, I see.” Milla tilted her head slightly, not surprised to hear that. She'd heard a few rumors about Sasha in just the few weeks she'd been working there. There were many Psychonauts employees that enjoyed gossiping, and though Milla enjoyed it on occasion, it was…a little much sometimes. “Well, Sasha has been nothing but kind and professional with me. He's been extremely helpful and respectful. I really enjoyed our training session yesterday.”

“That's very exciting to hear,” Truman said with a genuine smile. 

“He even allowed me to view one of his memory vaults,” Milla added as a bonus. “He seems like a very private person, so I was surprised by that.”

“Did he now?” Truman glanced at a notebook on his desk and quickly grabbed a pen, wrote something down, then closed the notebook. “Thank you, Milla. I've always liked Sasha so I'm happy to hear that he's getting along with someone.”

She paused a moment before adding another comment. “Is that so unusual? On my first day, Agent Nein introduced me to several people and seemed to have a friendly relationship with all of them.”

“Several people, hm?” Truman tapped his chin with the pencil he picked up earlier. “That’s the first time I’ve heard about Nein socializing. Hopefully with Hollis’ new promotion, I’ll have more time to pay attention!”

Milla smiled, happy that Truman was listening to her. She didn't know Agent Nein very well, but her interactions with him had been very pleasant and she didn’t want him to get in trouble because of some stupid rumors. “Is it really so bad if he’s a bit, um…antisocial?” she asked curiously. “From what I’ve heard, he’s a perfectly capable agent, so what does it matter?”

Truman sighed and glanced at the clock again. “It’s not about his social life. It’s about how well he works with others. Many of our operations involve partnerships or big teams and I’ve heard other agents say he’s not the best team player. He’s been told to work on it, but I was curious if he’d been putting in any noticeable effort.”

She nodded her head, finally understanding. “Like I said, he’s been very professional around me. But it’s possible he behaves differently out in the field, so I can only comment on what I know.”

“Of course!” He opened that notebook again and scribbled something else down. “Now I hate to toss you out, but I have an important meeting with Agent Mentallis in a few minutes and I’d like some time to eat my breakfast before he gets here.”

“Oh!” Milla levitated herself out of the chair and floated a few inches above the floor. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

As she turned around to leave, Truman added one last comment: “Don’t worry too much about Sasha, alright? He’s not going to get in trouble, I’m just looking out for him.”

She turned her head and nodded, continuing towards the tunnel and almost running into Agent Mentallis on her way. He smiled and greeted her casually, and then she levitated back down to the Nerve Center where there were a dozen agents floating around and talking. Three that caught Milla’s eye were Agents Forsythe, 33, and someone she didn’t recognize.

Agent Forsythe noticed Milla immediately. “Agent Vodello! Come over here.”

Milla plopped to the floor, staring at the senior agent and feeling suddenly nervous. She walked over as fast as her legs would take her. “Um…yes?”

“I need your assistance on a mission,” Agent Forsythe said quickly, levitating a sheet of paper into Milla’s hands. “We leave in ten minutes.”

“That’s…fast,” Milla said out loud and immediately wished she hadn’t.

Agent Forsythe raised an eyebrow at her. “I can always find someone else.”

“No, no! I’ll go grab a coffee and meet you outside!” Milla quickly levitated out of the room and rushed towards the Noodle Bowl. The coffee there wasn’t particularly good, but it was enough to get her through the day. And though Milla respected Agent Forsythe, the woman was terribly intimidating. She’d need the extra boost.

It took her less than seven minutes to get her coffee and make her way to the outside of the Motherlobe, where Agent Forsythe and Agent 33 were just starting to make their way into the jet. Milla followed obediently - she had very little information about this mission, but was too eager to pass up an opportunity to work alongside Agent Forsythe.

As the older woman started the jet, Milla sat down not far from Agent 33, whom she’d never really had the pleasure of spending much time with. Agent 33 was known for her secrecy and didn’t socialize much with other agents. But Milla liked to get to know people.

Before she could reach out a hand for their first real greeting, 33 surprised Milla by reaching out first. “Have we met before?”

“Not officially,” Milla answered, shaking her head. She took a moment to think about how she’d introduce herself - her time at the Motherlobe had been interesting, thanks to Sasha’s mispronunciation and her being too nervous to correct him. Most people within the Psychonauts pronounced her name as Sasha had, and though it’d grown on her over the past month…it was still strange. Her nickname, however, sounded very cute with the mispronunciation, and she’d been trying to get more people to use that. It could be difficult to force a nickname, but she figured she was still new enough to try. “Milla. Milla Vodello,” she said finally, grabbing 33’s hand back.

“You can call me 33,” the other woman answered. “I know it’s a bit unorthodox, but I really don’t like giving out my real name unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“It’s understandable. From what I’ve read, life as a Psychonaut can be dangerous,” Milla responded thoughtfully.

“It certainly can,” Agent Forsythe said, joining the two of them and taking a seat across from them. “You two are briefed on the basic information, right?”

Milla frowned, remembering the piece of paper that was handed to her earlier. She’d glanced at it, but then got so distracted by the idea of coffee that she hadn’t bothered to read the thing in full. It was burning a hole in her pocket and she felt terribly, awfully nervous as she thought about what to say next.

Agent 33 cut in with her own answer. “Small town - I forget the name. Bunch of people claiming to have weird dreams all featuring the same man. There's not a lot of information to go on, so what’s the game plan?”

Forsythe was writing something down in a small notebook. “We’re just information gathering at this point. 33 - I want you down there, acting as a citizen. Get them to trust us so they’ll tell us what’s going on. Vodello - you’ll be with me. We’re asking simple, non-invasive questions. Get them to describe the man, describe what he does in the dream, describe anything strange they’ve noticed while awake. Keep it relatively simple, don’t go overboard. Got it?”

33 gave a thumbs up and Milla nodded slowly, feeling like she was playing catch-up. At least she understood what the assignment was. “How long until we arrive?”

“Shouldn’t be long. Ten more minutes, maybe, then we’ll have to hoof it into town so the people don’t freak out about the jet.” Agent Forsythe sighed and wrote a few more things down in her notebook. “Do either of you have any questions?”

There was one question on Milla’s mind. It was possible that Agent Forsythe had chosen her for this mission simply because she was in the right place at the right time. But it also felt like she’d been specifically chosen for the task, and she didn’t quite understand why. Agent Mentallis giving her an assignment because she’s photogenic was one thing, but she really hoped Agent Forsythe wasn’t only bringing her along because people found her easy to talk to.

She had a lot more to offer the Psychonauts than that, after all. “I do, actually. Um…”

The two other agents stared at her, 33 filing her nails with a file she’d pulled out of thin air. Agent Forsythe raised a curious eyebrow. “Spit it out, then.”

“...why exactly did you ask me to come along? Just because I was walking by?”

Agent Forsythe tilted her head, seemingly surprised by the question. Then she glanced over at Agent 33, who proceeded to get up and walk to the front of the jet, giving them a semblance of privacy. “Not at all. I specifically wanted your insights here, Agent Vodello.”

“My insights?” Milla pouted, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve read your file - I’d consider you a nightmare expert, and this situation could quickly turn ugly if things go the way I expect them to. I’m hoping your experiences with nightmares will help us identify any warning signs or anything that could indicate some kind of nightmare contagion or epidemic.”

Milla felt her mind grow cold for a moment. Of all the responses she expected, that was certainly not one of them. Agent Forsythe knew about her history, at least parts of it, and brought it up so casually in a way that Truman never had. It was shocking, and slightly off-putting…but also weirdly cathartic. Knowing that her traumatic experiences could actually lead to her helping people who needed it was nice. Like the terrible, awful things she went through weren’t completely in vain.

“O-oh,” Milla answered finally. “Well…then I hope you’re right. I’m happy to help.”

Forsythe gave her a little nod, then stood up to join Agent 33 at the helm.

Milla sat there on the bench in the middle of the jet, feeling out-of-place. She’d gone on a handful of large group missions, trained one-on-one with other agents on occasion, and she’d been preparing herself for the two-to-three group missions that Psychonauts were so well-known for. But actually being a part of it was strange. She wondered if Agent Forsythe even realized that this was her first time on a real, covert Psychonauts assignment.

“We’re just about there,” Agent Forsythe announced, taking a seat to manually land the jet. “Are you both ready?”

Milla looked up to find Agent Forsythe and Agent 33 standing there, confident-as-ever - but 33 looked like a completely different person than the last time Milla had seen her. Which was only a few minutes earlier. It was ridiculous how skilled the woman was at disguising herself.

“I’m ready, Agent Forsythe,” Milla finally said.

x

The mission took a lot longer than Milla had expected.

By the time they’d arrived back at the Motherlobe, it was almost one o’clock - and in all her excitement, Milla had forgotten to say anything to Agent Nein before they’d left. After giving her quick goodbyes to Agents Forsythe and 33, she rushed towards the classroom despite being almost two hours late.

The room was empty. He wasn’t there. Milla frowned and almost smacked herself on the head - of course he wasn’t there! Why the hell would he sit around waiting for hours? He was a busy man with things to do.

So her next stop was across the lobby and up to his office. The aquarium distracted her for a moment, but in that same moment, Sasha Nein began making his way towards the lobby and also passed by the aquarium, though he was staring at his watch instead of paying attention to where he was walking. Milla turned around just in time to stop him from bumping into her. She placed her hands against his shoulders to steady him.

His hands moved down almost instinctively, and hovered over her hips for a brief moment before he pulled them back, just as Milla pulled her hands off of him. He seemed confused, but more about her presence than anything else.

“Agent Nein!”

“Agent Vodello,” he said casually, as if she hadn’t stood him up a few hours earlier.

“I-I’m so sorry.” Milla ran her fingers through her hair, feeling embarrassed. “Agent Forsythe asked me to join her on an assignment and I didn’t realize how long it would take. I feel absolutely terrible, I really hope you weren’t waiting long.”

Sasha shrugged, clearly unbothered. “It’s fine. You should always take any opportunity to work with Agent Forsythe. She can teach you a lot - more than I can, certainly.”

He continued on his path towards the lobby and Camilla floated beside him, hands clasped in front of her chest. “I still feel bad for not telling you. Could I at least buy you a coffee to make it up to you?”

Sasha stopped in his tracks and turned to look at her, curious about her response. He honestly didn’t mind that she’d missed their meeting time - he’d taken a half hour or so and just worked on organizing his mind. The classroom was peaceful, away from the hustle and bustle of the lobby or the Nerve Center, and he liked the quiet. She should’ve told him, sure, but it wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

She was so apologetic though, and he almost felt bad that he didn’t care as much as she’d expected him to. He might’ve been a little disappointed more than anything, but he didn’t think there was any reason to inform her of that.

Getting coffee with her - in the Noodle Bowl, publicly, in front of so many other people - even just the concept made him feel nervous. Sasha took a deep breath, though he really just wanted another cigarette, and considered the offer. Her timing was good, since he had, in fact, been on his way to the Noodle Bowl for lunch. But he was worried other people would…notice them. He didn’t really enjoy being noticed, and Camilla always attracted the attention of others.

Sasha went back and forth on how to answer her for what felt like millenia (though was actually less than a second), and finally decided that he didn’t give a shit what other people thought. He enjoyed spending time with her and even if he didn’t - she was making the offer as professional courtesy and it would be rude of him to dismiss it.

“I was actually headed to lunch if you’d like to join me,” Sasha answered, finally, trying to remain cool despite the itch he felt inside his chest.

Camilla smiled brightly and clapped her hands together. “That’d be perfect! I’m buying!” she said enthusiastically, levitating ahead of him.

He followed behind her, awkwardly trying to keep up the same pace while walking. Though he’d never be as naturally talented at it as she was, Sasha knew he needed to spend more time working on his levitation skills. Generally it wasn’t an ability that he put much thought into, but Camilla was giving him a new perspective on it.

It was a little late for lunch, so the Noodle Bowl wasn’t as crowded as usual. Which eased Sasha’s nerves slightly, though he was completely aware of the eyes that locked onto him and Agent Vodello when they entered the room together. It wasn’t everyone, of course, but there were at least two or three people in the room that were paying more attention to them than necessary.

Camilla either didn’t notice them or didn’t care - going through the line, grabbing her rice bowl that contained a ridiculous amount of cilantro, and levitating over to one of the two-person tables by the windows.

He followed her, mostly silent, nodding or giving an affirmative hum when she asked him simple questions about his food or drink preferences. He wasn’t used to eating with someone else.

A moment after he set his tray down, Camilla perked up with a pointer finger in the air. “Oops, forgot to get a drink!”

“I’ll get it for you. What would you like?”

“Just a water please!” she answered with a sweet smile.

Sasha nodded and walked back towards the café line. He knew he could just telekinetically grab two waters, but it always felt strange to use his psychic powers in those types of situations. Not every employee working in the Motherlobe had such abilities, after all. He had no reason to show off or make anyone feel ostracized.

He grabbed the water bottles and turned back around to find Camilla chatting with Agent Forsythe, who’d apparently appeared out of nowhere. Not wanting to interrupt, Sasha headed back slowly (but not too slowly, since he was curious about the conversation).

“You should be hearing from Truman soon with more information.”

“Thank you for telling me, Agent Forsythe! And thank you again for bringing me along.”

Agent Forsythe gave the younger woman a small smile. “I think we worked well together, Milla. I’ll make sure it happens more often.” And with that, she walked away, giving Sasha a brief nod when she noticed him.

Sasha took his seat and handed one water to Camilla, more interested in their conversation than his meal. “Seems like you made a good impression this morning.”

Agent Vodello chuckled in response, a charming blush against her cheeks. “I guess so! I don’t want to jinx anything.”

He took a sip of his water. “You know, she’d probably be happy to train with you in her free time,” he suggested casually.

“Ohh, but I really like your style,” Camilla said with a forkful of food in front of her mouth. She took a moment to eat it before adding, “You’re very easy to train with! I felt like I learned a lot after just one session.”

Sasha’s itching need for a cigarette came back, and he decided not to ignore it this time. He wondered if she realized how much of a compliment that was - his style of training and teaching was frequently dismissed by other Psychonauts. Hearing someone as lively and kind as Camilla Vodello saying she felt like his methods were effective was certainly enough to make him blush. Unable to fight the urge any longer, he quickly grabbed a new cigarette and almost missed the woman in front of him flinch when he lit the end.

Probably related to her issues with pyrokinesis, he surmised. If she had an issue, he was sure she’d say something to him.

“And there it is,” Camilla commented quietly with a smirk on her face.

“I- um…” Sasha cleared his throat and took a nice, long drag. “I also thought yesterday went well. You seem to learn quickly and it’s nice to, ah…be listened to.” He paused for a moment, then added, “A-and thank you.”

She smiled again, thanked him quickly and then took a minute to focus on her food. The food at the Noodle Bowl wasn’t particularly good, but it wasn’t the worst. No one seemed to possess the psychic ability to put together extravagant meals, but discounted and perfectly edible meals were certainly good enough for him. He recalled that there used to be a restaurant or two across the Quarry, but they’d been closed for some time. Not enough customers around to bother keeping any place open.

They chatted while they ate - about Brazil, and about Germany, and about Oleander and Forsythe and Truman - and Sasha was both mortified and embarrassed to learn that an hour had gone by without him noticing. He was about to cut them off and say he needed to get back to work when they were interrupted again.

“Milla!”

They both turned to see Agent Forsythe again, just on the other side of the Noodle Bowl. Sasha noted that she’d called her Milla again, so it wasn’t just his ears playing a trick on him earlier. A nickname from Hollis Forsythe was unexpected, he felt. She’d always been a very formal, professional woman.

“Truman wants to talk to us now, so finish up and I’ll see you and 33 in his office ASAP.”

Camilla gave the woman a thumbs up before turning back to Sasha with a guilty, toothy smile. “I’m so sorry to cut this off so suddenly, but this was fun! We should do it again sometime.”

When he’d run into Camilla outside Agent Mentallis’ lab the day before, Sasha had assumed she’d offered to make plans with him just because she was a polite person following normal social graces. After their lunch, however, he was comfortable accepting the fact that she genuinely wanted to spend time with him again. And not just professionally, as he was more used to, but socially. It was strange, but left a pleasant sensation in the pit of his stomach.

It’d been a long time since he actually made a friend. And he didn’t want to screw it up by assuming too much, but he also wanted to make sure she understood that he enjoyed socializing with her. So he tapped his fingers on the small table between them and responded with, “It’s no problem, I should get back to work anyway. And, uh…yes, we should. Maybe Friday?”

“Friday I promised to eat lunch with Kim, but how about Monday?” she answered quickly, standing up and brushing her dress down.

“That’s fine with me.”

“Perfect!” Camilla smiled again and grabbed her tray. “If there’s time, maybe we can train afterwards, too!”

Sasha grabbed the edge of his sunglasses and adjusted them slightly, still deciding if he wanted to try being casual and cool. He did, he did. It was just difficult to build himself up to it. “I’d like that. I’ll see you around…Milla.”

She responded with a small smirk and a twinkle in her eyes that told Sasha he’d definitely made the right decision in copying Agent Forsythe’s nickname. The smile didn’t leave her face even as she levitated out of the room, ceremoniously dumping her tray with telekinesis to save time. He watched her go and then the room suddenly felt very cold and empty as he turned back to how he was sitting before.

He looked down at his food. It was barely eaten - he’d been so engrossed in their conversation that he’d forgotten the entire reason he came to the lunchroom in the first place, apparently.

There was a light tinge of pink on his cheeks as he quickly ate his (unfortunately, room temperature) food. Camilla - er, Milla, as he would start to think of her - had the potential to be very distracting for him. Sasha hoped their new friendship would soon feel normal for him and he could quickly settle back into his regular routine.

In the following days, Sasha found himself hyper aware of Milla anytime they were both in the lobby. Even if they were on opposite sides or in two distinctly different conversations, his eyes would be drawn to her for at least a moment, and then his thoughts would be stuck on her for an embarrassing amount of time. It was…not unpleasant. But not pleasant, either. He felt like he was breaking some rule he didn’t know about, which didn’t make much sense since they were, technically speaking, friendly with one another. Friends, she might even say.

Friends.

It was Thursday morning and she was on the other side of the lobby again. In an animated conversation with two other Psychonauts, not paying attention to the lanky, green man standing by the mural of the Psychic 6 and trying his best not to stare at her.

Sasha pushed up his sunglasses and glared down at Morry, who’d been ranting to him for the past few minutes about young people and how little respect they had for their elders anymore. Sasha didn’t interact with enough young people to have any opinion on the subject, though he was sure Oleander was just referencing an article he’d read in the newspaper. He was a man who often got angry about things he’d read, whether or not it was true or had any affect on him whatsoever wasn’t important.

As Morry moved onto something else, Sasha’s thoughts wandered back to Milla. She was wearing a dress today that he’d never seen her in before, which made him wonder about how many dresses she owned. They were all so bright and colorful, which he usually didn’t enjoy, but the colors always complimented her.

“Nein, I swear to God, if you tuned out everything I just said, I’ll smack you silly,” Oleander threatened, bringing Sasha’s thoughts back to him.

Sasha responded by crossing his arms over his chest. “Your oatmeal was too sweet and you had to throw it out. You got a birthday card from your uncle, but it’s been four months since your birthday. You’re thinking about getting a new car, but are worried about paying off another loan. Did I miss anything important?”

Morceau glared harder and raised a fist at the man in front of him. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you, you- you incompetent Kraut?”

Sasha rolled his eyes, having been called similar things by his coworker plenty of times over the years. It could’ve been worse. “Well. I certainly don’t think of myself as dumb.”

“I certainly don’t think of myself as dumb!” Morry responded in a mocking tone. “C’mon, Nein. Don’t play coy with me. If you wanna stare at Vodello like a creep, then tell me! I’ll be your wingman!”

Mortified, but refusing to outwardly show it, Sasha responded by tightening his grip on his arms and straightening his back, making him even taller than the height-challenged agent that was so delighted to point out something so embarrassing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right.”

“I’m serious, Morry,” he said sternly. “I don’t want you making her uncomfortable.”

Oleander laughed and then playfully punched Sasha in the arm, though it hurt more than he likely intended. “If anyone was gonna make her uncomfortable, it’d probably be the one staring at her like a watchdog!”

“Morry.”

“What? What?” Morceau glared. “You still can’t take a joke, huh?”

Sasha sighed, trying to stall while he thought of a reasonable explanation for his own behavior. He didn’t really have an actual explanation, if he was being honest, but he needed to come up with something to keep Oleander off his back and prevent the man from saying anything weird to Milla. He didn’t have a lot of friends and he’d be ashamed of himself if he managed to lose this one so quickly.

As he thought about that, he finally took note of who exactly Milla was talking to across the room - it was Agents Forsythe and 33, again. In fact, he frequently saw Milla with one or both of them, which he assumed was related to whatever case they were working on. A case which, for some reason, he’d not been brought into.

It was taking multiple missions and multiple meetings and multiple days - normally Sasha was included on any larger assignments like that, since he’d been with the Psychonauts for so long. But instead, Vodello and 33 were the ones that’d been recruited for it. Which was fine, honestly, but he didn’t really understand why he was being excluded. It caught his attention in that moment, and also struck him as a perfectly good explanation to Morceau.

“Agent Vodello has been meeting with Agents Forsythe and 33 repeatedly this week. Often with Grand Head Zanotto as well,” Sasha explained quietly. “I’m simply curious what’s going on.”

“Sure, sure,” Morry responded - acting like he didn’t believe Sasha, but turning to stare at the three women on the other side of the lobby. He put a hand to his chin as he seemed to acknowledge that Sasha was telling the truth. “It’s probably got somethin’ to do with this nightmare problem.”

“Nightmare problem?”

“Yeah. I don’t know the details, just heard some agents chatting about it earlier.” Morry shrugged. “Some nearby town is getting all nightmare-crazed and no one knows why.”

Sasha gave an affirmative hum as his response, shoving his hands into his pockets and glancing over at Milla again. Though this time, his eyes landed on Forsythe - who was staring right back at him. He quickly turned to Morceau and cleared his throat. “I should get back to work. Let me know if you find out any details about this.”

“I’ll ask around, but some of us have camp planning to work on!” Morry answered with a wag of his finger. “We can’t all just sit in our offices, twiddling our thumbs all day!”

“Right. I’ll keep that in mind next time I need you for anything,” Sasha responded with a roll of his eyes, and then he quickly levitated towards his office.

When Monday afternoon rolled around, Sasha had been helping Agent Mentallis set up one of his new Otto-Matic devices in the lobby when he noticed Milla again. She’d had to cancel their lunch for another sudden mission with Agent Forsythe and he ended up spending the late afternoon with his mentor instead. It was certainly not a waste of time, so he didn’t mind, but his thoughts kept drifting to this nightmare-related situation that he wasn’t being apprised of.

Milla noticed him quickly after she drifted into the room, and she shot Sasha a quick wave before following Forsythe and 33 to the Nerve Center. Sasha waved back in a way that he hoped looked relaxed and not awkward like he felt, but based on Agent Mentallis’ reaction, he had a feeling it did not.

“That’s the girl who stood you up for two dates in a row, right?” the older man asked, a knowing smirk on his face.

Sasha sighed and reached into his pocket for a cigarette, as he often did when Agent Mentallis made his little jokes and comments. “Not dates. And she was called for an assignment.”

“Right, of course.” He turned back to his machine, which wasn’t turning on no matter how many times he pressed the power button. “Oleander tells me you’ve been staring at her. I sure hope that’s not true!”

“Wh-? Why in the world would you two-?!” Sasha had to take a drag of his cigarette before he got too frustrated. He didn’t understand gossip. He’d never understand it. Gathering information was important, but talking about office interpersonal relationships was not. “I already explained to him that I’ve been trying to learn more about the missions she and Agent Forsythe keep going on.”

“Oh, yeah. Something to do with a nightmare town, right?” Agent Mentallis asked, still trying to press the power button.

“That’s what I’ve heard.” Sasha levitated around the side of the Otto-Matic, not completely surprised to find the plug laying on the ground next to the outlet. He sighed and telekinetically plugged it in.

“Hey! Would you look at that?” Agent Mentallis shouted as the device finally turned on. “This is gonna revolutionize things for you active agents, I promise you that!”

Sasha smoked his cigarette again, happy that Agent Mentallis was too distracted by his machinery to continue their conversation. He was quite tired of people making assumptions about his intentions with Agent Vodello. He didn’t have any intentions besides attempting to be her friend and he hoped that no one was suggesting otherwise to her.

“And, y’know, Sasha…” the older man added suddenly. “You could always try asking her out first. It’s easier than you’d think!”

“Gott in Himmel,” Sasha groaned. He really thought he’d gotten out of that conversation unscathed. “You are ridiculous, you realize that?”

He laughed in response and smacked the side of his Otto-Matic when the audio briefly stopped working. “An old man like myself has to find ways to entertain himself.”

“I’d stick to the machines if I were you.” Sasha glanced to the side and noticed Agent Forsythe emerge from the Nerve Center alone - she turned and headed towards the new wing, likely to get something from her office. He looked between her and Agent Mentallis, then decided he needed to man up and just ask her directly what was going on. “I’m going to go talk to Agent Forsythe. Do you need anything else from me?”

“You’re not reporting me, are you?” Agent Mentallis asked, feigning shock. “I bet Hollis would be happy to kick me outta here. She says I’m expensive!”

Sasha rolled his eyes. “No, Agent Mentallis. I’m going to ask her about this nightmare situation.” He started to walk towards the other side of the lobby. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye-bye, Nein!” Agent Mentallis responded, attention fully back on his Otto-Matic since the sound cut out again. He grumbled and smacked the side of it. “It was working fine in my lab! He better not’ve damaged it on the way here…”

As he worked on that, a certain yellow-skinned, red-haired agent was absentmindedly trying to read a magazine while sitting on a nearby couch when she decided to give up and just sighed loudly instead. She’d been eavesdropping on the conversation between Agents Mentallis and Nein, and she was so, so curious about what they’d been talking about.

It sounded like Sasha Nein had some kind of little crush on Milla Vodello. And that was a juicy piece of information that she wished she could tell somebody about.

Unfortunately, the last two people she’d attempted to gossip with had both complained and threatened to report her. So she sat there, alone, thinking about how nice it would be to have someone to talk back and forth with. Someone who understood how much fun it was to pay attention.

With another sigh, Sherri leaned her head back and stared up at the ceiling. She really needed a gossip buddy.

x

He caught up with Agent Forsythe as she was exiting her new office, and Sasha was glad that barely anyone used that hallway yet. Personally, he would’ve preferred to confront her in the confines of a room with a closed door, but he’d have to settle for a slightly public setting instead.

“Agent Forsythe.”

She looked up from the stack of papers in her hands and paused upon seeing him, plopping her feet back onto the ground. “Agent Nein. What’s going on?”

He stood firmly in front of her, holding his ground. It was true that Agent Forsythe could be intimidating, but he'd known her for over half a decade. He had to speak freely with her at some point. “I have something I need to discuss with you.”

Agent Forsythe stayed silent for a few moments, clearly waiting for him to continue. When he didn't start talking again, she responded. “Did you want to go to my office first, or…?”

“No. This is fine.” Sasha mentally berated himself for being so nervous. “It's about these missions you've been going on over the past week.”

“Ohhh, I see.” Agent Forsythe put a hand on her hip and shook her head. “Milla mentioned something about missing a lunch with you, but I need her for this, so you'll just have to wait a few more days ‘til we get this sorted out.”

Sasha took a deep breath, trying to ease the embarrassment of her assumptions. “No, that's not what I-!” He moved a hand to the side of his head, massaging a growing headache. “It's not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“This nightmare situation has continued for over a week past its initial assignment. I've noticed several meetings between you, Vodello, 33, and Grand Head Zanotto, which has led me to believe the situation has only gotten worse.” Sasha adjusted his sunglasses, as he often did when he felt like he'd been talking for too long. “Agent Vodello is a perfectly capable agent, I'm sure, but she's extremely new to this organization. I've been here for years. Why haven’t I been brought onto this assignment?”

Having spoken his peace, Sasha stuffed his hands into his pockets and hoped that he didn't get scolded for speaking out of turn. He wouldn't regret asking even if he did, but the thought of verbal punishment like that made the back of his neck sweaty.

“That's what this is about?” Agent Forsythe glanced at the clock on the wall, then looked back at him. “Agent Vodello is an expert with nightmares - her file is loaded with her history of fighting and containing them. I brought her into this because I thought her experience would make it a simple first mission.”

Sasha felt himself deflate a little. He didn't know that about Milla. He probably wasn't supposed to know that. “...oh.”

“You, on the other hand, need to be available in case something bigger comes up,” she continued. “Yes, the nightmare situation is…problematic. But it's contained within a small town - population less than two thousand. When a larger psychic problem inevitably comes up somewhere else in the world, I want you here and ready to take it on.”

Somehow, Agent Forsythe managed to make Sasha feel like both a fool and an irreplaceable member of their organization in one fell swoop. “I see. That…makes perfect sense.”

“I didn't think I’d need to update you on that,” Forsythe added. “But if you need more work to do, I know Oleander needs a lot of help with his big summer camp project.”

Sasha pushed his sunglasses up and shook his head. “No, I've got plenty. Just…wanted to know what was going on, is all.”

“Well, now you know.” Agent Forsythe levitated up into the air and floated past him. “Keep your eyes peeled, Nein. It's been a slow few weeks, which means psychic problems are just waiting to reveal themselves.”

He watched her float away and sighed again, feeling like a bit of a dope. Not only had he questioned a superior, but he'd inadvertently suggested that Agent Vodello wasn't important enough to be on missions that he wasn't on. What kind of friend did that make him?

And now he also knew that she was some sort of…nightmare expert.

Sasha’s thoughts drifted to little things she'd told him about her life prior to the Psychonauts, and his mind stalled when he started to think about the pain a powerful nightmare could bring to an otherwise healthy mind.

If he'd thought she was distracting before, Sasha knew it was just going to get worse.

[wave2vee]

Project: LOVESTRUCK - Chapter 3: Studying?..

Word count: 968

The walk to the café was a not so pleasant one. Despite the thicker jacket you were wearing it was still freezing. On top of that you were carrying a bag that was probably a bit heavier than it should've been..

Arriving to the café, you were greeted with the scent of fresh coffee and the warmth of the heat inside the building. Noticing Kai hadn't arrived yet, you walked over to a small table that was available and started setting your stuff out to study. The warmth of the café, along with the comforting, cozy atmosphere the place offered proved to be very relaxing. The soft hum of music filled your ears as you waited for Kai to arrive.

You hadn't realized that you had zoned out, however you were snapped out of your trance by someone sitting down in front of you and softly calling out your name, "Hey Y/N, sorry for being a bit late.." Kai chuckled softly as you looked at him. "Ah, no worries, I'm not in any rush." You reply back. "Do you want a drink?" You ask as you open your laptop. Kai nods and stands up, you go to stand up as well but he stops you and tells you to just give him your order. His actions had taken you by surprise but you gave him your order. You pulled your wallet out of your bag to give him the money for your drink, but before you get the chance to even hand it to him, he's already gone off to order.

When Kai had returned he had both drinks in his hands, he set yours down in front of you and sat down with his. As he did so you handed him the money for your drink which in turn, he quickly slid back to you. "My treat." He smiled at you. You could've sworn your heart did a flip in that moment.. "Are you sure? I don't mind paying for mine." You question him. Kai simply nods and pulls out his own laptop and notebook. You let out a sigh but nod back with a thanks and start to work on your studying, occasionally stealing a glance or two at him as you take a sip of your drink.

"Hey Kai?" You break the comfortable silence that had fallen between the two of you. Kai hums in acknowledgment and diverts his attention from his laptop screen to you. "Yeah?" You couldn't help but let a small yet subtle smile grow on your lips as he did this. He was simply too cute. "For.." You turn your laptop screen and point to a question. "This one, I'm a bit confused on what is being asked. Can you reword it down for me?" Kai hums once more and looks a bit closer at what you're asking. "Ah, okay so.." As he explains what you needed, you couldn't help but admire his features. Why was he so pretty? How was he so pretty? "Does it make more sense now?" His question draws you out of your brain and you nod. "Yeah, thank you." You turn your laptop screen back to you as Kai acknowledges your thanks.

The rest of the study day went by smoothly. Kai and you helping each other out with certain things, taking notes for exams together, making small jokes, and just enjoying each other's company. The day seemed to be a successful one. You finished up your drink as Kai talked about something in regards to the final the two of you had just wrapped up studying for, for the day. You nod as he talks and start to pack up your belongings. Once he stops you speak up, "We should do this again sometime." The smile on your face radiates the positive energy you're feeling in that moment even though you had just finished an extremely draining study session. "Maybe we should make it a weekly thing until finals?" Kai suggests. "Ooh," You hum. "I like that, we should." The two of you agree to make it a weekly thing and the study session officially comes to an end.

As you're slinging your bag over your shoulder and grabbing your empty cup, Kai is doing the same. "Hey, could I maybe.. Walk you back to your dorm?" He asks sweetly, and who were you to deny more time with the man you had been pinning over since high school? "Yeah, of course." The once subtle smile on Kai's face grows into a warm and obvious one.

"Alright then." He says, grabbing your empty cup from you and throwing it in the nearby trash bin with his. "Let's go?" You nod and start to make your way out of the café with Kai trailing not so far behind you. To you, his presence was a comforting one, and to him your presence was also comforting.

The walk back to the dormitory building wasn't too long, but rather too short. The walk was filled with small talk and light hearted banter as the two of you discussed random topics like, who in the friend group was the most likely to get blackout drunk at a Christmas party, and why it would be Yeonjun. Entering the dorm building felt rather dreadful for the both of you. Neither of you had wanted this moment to end, however it had to. You made your way up to your dorm room where you fumbled with your keys for a minute before eventually unlocking the door. You bid your farewells to Kai and enter your dorm, watching as he turns on his heels to walk back to his own. The moment you shut your door and lock it once more you make your way to your bedroom, screaming into your pillow..

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[ficyorick]

I really love the dynamic between Butcher and Kessler in your writing. It’s a bit like *Fight Club*—chaotic and captivating. Sorry if my focus shifted, but it’s truly something special—this is exactly how I imagined Butchler!! I’m impressed by how well you’ve portrayed every character, even though they aren’t part of the main ship.Thank you so much for it! I really mean it. Can't wait to see more. Any chance we’ll get to see more of Butchler in the future?

OH ITS ABSOLUTELY LIKE FIGHT CLUB... you know when i set out to write this fic kessler was just going to be a vague antagonist to push the plot forward, like i didn't care much for his motivations and such (i think u can see that in ch1, he's very flat there, just sort of taunting billy a little bit), but as i went on writing, their dynamic became very very interesting to me

i rly like stories about, like. intruders taking over ur body, stories about having to live with a sort of supernatural force (or sci-fi, in this case i suppose) in your brain/soul/body and you have to expel it somehow--but maybe you actually start to make peace with it, you two learn to coexist etc etc ive ALWAYS loved stories like that so that's where ive gravitated towards with kessler and i rly didn't care much for him in s4 but now im like THIS GUY RULESSSS, SHOW ME MOREEEE

with kessler i think theres an additional nuance of him taking care of billy, protecting him--but at the same time, he is a cancer tumor. he is killing billy no matter what, his presence causes harm to his host but he still wants billy to go along with his plan, kill all supes etc. in my head, kessler really does care about billy, he views him as wasted potential and just wants him to realize this massive potential (doesn't matter if that potential is related to killing people). i like to think that all those deals he makes with billy are his way of rationalizing his subconscious guilt about killing him. like, he knows he's the intruder here, he knows he's not a real person but he didn't ask to be manifested like this

in bad ending specifically, kessler is absolutely jealous of the attention homelander is getting, he doesn't understand why billy just wont let go... but that's the thing abt billy, he doesn't let people go. that's why kessler looks like a man from his past. i think he has love for billy and that love is expressed in the way he takes care of him, pushes him towards this goal that billy won't admit he wants, but its okay, kessler will sort it out for him. i also added a massive brainfuck element to kessler (he's fully able to just tweak and erase his memories) but i felt like its on theme with what he demonstrated in the show already .

all in all, writing for kessler has been SUUUCH a pleasant surprise, i really didn't expect it. like i genuinely love writing this guy lmfao i save the best zingers for him. i rly liked his 'reverse stockholm syndrome' line LMFAO . i didn't even consider butchler before writing it (except for a few fics i saw there and there about mutual jerking off which rules of course) but there's also . so much unhealthy potential here, its insane. and imagine if the Real Kessler from billys past was someone he was in a relationship in... imagine....

AND TO ANSWER UR QUESTION.... i didnt consider it but wough... im imagining writing a short chapter from kesslers pov and it is very interesting to me.... thinking about unrequited love from kesslers perspective... getting into his thought process, what his life actually looks like as a fauckin tumor inside someones head... the neurons are firing a little bit i must say

[joz-yyh]

Rust - Ch. 3 (Preview)

SUMMARY: A “how they got together” and “where they are now” fic in which I detail how Damian and Tardif meet and consequently fall in love. No beta. Read at your own risk.

RATING: T (for preview only!!) The rest of the story is EXPLICIT

PAIRING: Bounty Hunter x Flagellant

WORD COUNT: 1,663

A/N: A little sneak peak at the morning after scene. I am plunging face first into Tardif being a baker (I am making it part of his backstory) and there’s nothing that you can do to stop me. Enjoy! ;)

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————–

Damian wakes to the smell of something decadent, buttery and warm.

He can't place what it is, only that it makes his stomach growl with untamed hunger, but determining the cause comes secondary to rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

It's morning judging by the streaks of light that peek in through the fortified window frames and while the gaps between the boards are hardly enough to fully illuminate the room, it's an acceptable enough supply for raking in his surroundings.

As he sits up in bed, his gaze travels along the old interior walls of the cabin, an ambient cloud of dust drifting amidst the crusty air, dampening the pleasant aroma that he tries not to dwell on.

The space is furnished with minimal, barely lived-in necessities: dresser, side table, chairs and the overarching brick of the fireplace. These worn, charitable things show some signs of repair, the off-color wood of a chair leg, a scraped line of newly sealed cement. The only outstanding sense of personality in the room seems to be a cow skull nailed to the far wall, a reflection of an idiomatic landowner's taste.

"So this is what you've been working on," Damian whispers to himself, giving his thoughts more power to appreciate Tardif's vocations, "Everything was for this." 

The flagellant feels a traitorous swell of pride for his partner, truly convinced that the iron-set mask he wore was only that, a visage to hide the real man underneath. The seemingly unfeeling mercenary was capable of offering so much good to the world, of incredible feats of tenderness if only his skills had a suitable condition for it. He hoped that one day, Tardif would see this and realize it for himself.

"Hn," the surly devil grunts, an affirmation from his side of the bed, gently dozing in and out of consciousness.

So, the bounty hunter had not left him alone at his earliest convenience, but stayed throughout the entire night. This wisdom makes something unnamed coil inside of Damian’s chest, having sworn he heard the footfalls of departure during his restless fits of sleep. 

As brutal hands reach out to reclaim the flagellants' waist, urging him towards the center of the mattress, he thinks perhaps he dreamed it and nothing more.

"Tardif," Damian breathes his name in surprise, relief even, a pitch of admonished reprise clinging to his tone.

"Yer warm," the brute grumbles in a sleep-soaked voice, dragging himself into the dip of the flagellant's lap, his nose nudging against a clothed thigh since the other refuses to budge.

A chill was beginning to creep in, though Damian hardly noticed it, assuming the fire had gone out late that evening.

The blonde can't help the smile that lights up his face, warmed by the endearing sight of the bounty hunter commandeering his leg, apropos of a pillow.

The priest wants to touch, but hesitates, his scuffed hand dangling indefinitely above midnight-colored strands that have fallen out of place, fanned out across an olive-colored ear. 

He knows he shouldn't be afraid, that this gesture shouldn't feel so intimate, but it does. Tardif looks so damn untroubled laying on top of him, the strong breadth of his upper body draped and furled around his meekly clad torso.

Damian lowers his hand in a capricious spoil of indulgence, hating to disturb the beatific picture such a scene made, but unable to drive away the thought that he may never get another chance like this again. 

Tardif inclines his head, inquisitive and acknowledging and Damian pauses, waits for the man to settle deeper into his lap before stroking through his partner's hair, astonished by the softness he finds there.

The blonde makes a few passes, down and then back again, petting the strands into some semblance of order until his fingertips reach the lazy oaf's miniature ponytail. Impulsively, he unwinds the band, letting loose the full mullet of hair, carding through the sea of onyx with avid delight.

"Hrm," Tardif purrs, melting against the man with a contented smirk, "could get used to this."

Emboldened, Damian drags his nails across the shaved sides of the man's scalp, combs through the long mane with his fingers, the rugged tail of scruff ending at the raised knob of a steadfast spine.

His touch wanders then, seduced by the large tattoo on Tardif's arm, one he'd managed to overlook during his previous inspections. He can't quite make out the shapes properly, the angle and muscle contorted, but he deciphers part of it to be the axehead of the bounty hunter's beloved Widowmaker.

Tardif shifts beneath him, a little more awake now, planting a series of kisses along the terrace of scar-stricken skin near his lips. The brute's blunt teeth nip at the inseam of a jutting hip bone, causing the priest to gasp in a scandalous inhale of breath and Tardif is reminded of the hardness between his legs, erection pressed down into the sheets as he licks over a canvas of pale white, earning him a repressed whimper from the man above.

Suddenly, an impromptu alarm sounds and Damian jolts, startled by incessant mechanical ringing.

"What is that infernal noise? One of your traps," Damian asks, only partially irritated by the interruption.

"Muffins are done," Tardif says, pulling himself away with a despondent sigh.

“Muffins," Damian echoes, dubious, as if he's never heard the term before in his life.

"Hn," the bounty hunter grunts, getting up from the bed to attend to the blaring device. "Ye want to try one?"

Damian doesn't answer, torn by the indecision of what to say, already missing the firm tether of the man's bulk, the way such a confident, solid weight added to his form, made it better.

He watches on as the mercenary pads into the kitchen, still shirtless, having the decency to adjust the fit of his trousers.

A full-view of his chiseled back is on display, revealing more arrangements of ink-set designs (the blonde catches a glimpse of wings, beaks and talons), before he turns the corner and they fade into obscurity again.

The priest's curiosity has him skittering in pursuit, earnestly hoping to behold the etchings in their entirety, but once Tardif packs himself into the nook of the cupboards, he keeps a respectable distance.

The bounty hunter pretends not to notice Damian's excitement, preferring not to draw attention to it lest the man conceal it for some prude religious practice so, he carries on with his task, turning off the small, but no less noisy egg timer. 

He opens the oven, reaching for a customary towel rag to wrap his hand in as he pulls out the tray, pleased that the cornmeal hadn't crisped too much around the edges.

Baked confections fill the blonde's senses, the sight of their fluffy, golden mounds a delectable appeal, the unfinished canvas of tattoos momentarily forgotten.

"Makes your mouth water, doesn't it," Tardif remarks, eyeing him with a knowing, sidelong glance and a prideful smirk. 

Damian's heart skips a beat at this guilty pang of truth, his face flushing all the more when he realizes he's still missing his cowl.

"How did you learn such things," Damian asks, brows knotting into complex ridges as he marvels over the saporous muffins.

"My mother was a baker," the bounty hunter says wistfully, melancholy ripe in his voice.

Damian picks up on the usage of past tense – "was" – he said, "was" and a burst of sympathy consumes him, emphatic to partner's loss. Whomever this woman was in life, the two of them must’ve been very close for her memory to provoke such an intense fit of longing.

The flagellant’s arms wrap around him from behind, a swathe of warmth meant to purge him of his grief.

“I am sorry,” he whispers beneath the shell of his partner's ear, placing a comforting kiss against a tanned shoulder, hoping the man would find solace in this small gesture.

“Don’t be. Nothing ye could have done to change it,” Tardif huffs, trying to expel the bitter tragedy from his mind.

"Could …," Damian schools his tone, about to retract his words, but cautiously continues, "could you teach … me?"

“To bake,” the brute asks, both flabbergasted and amused, craning his neck toward the blonde, one daft eyebrow raised.

"Y-yes," Damian answers, thinking back to his brash lesson with Tardif's grappling hook. "but do not feel any obligation. I understand if you–"

Tardif tenses up, his jaw locked, muscles rigid and Damian silently reprimands himself for having brought it up.

For one brief instant, he'd seen how peaceful Tardif looked, his deep affection for this humble craft reaching back into a time before he'd built a castle wall around his heart and foolishly, selfishly, Damian thought he could scale the barrier and break through it onto the other side.

It seems the flagellant has swayed too far from his path, his flail forgotten amidst the disarray of the bedroom, a transgression that needed to be paid for in blood.

"Forgive me, for asking," Damian sighs, woefully repentant, his hold going slack, "I only wished to bring us closer."

The bounty hunter sets the tray aside on the counter along with the rag, his shoulders relaxing by fractions. "How 'bout ye just try one for now," he suggests.

Slowly, the brute twists around, facing the flagellant head-on, the priest accommodating the switch with concerned red eyes, perplexed by the growing intensity of callous hands on his hips.

"Gotta give 'em a few minutes to cool, first," Tardif tells him, reversing their positions in less than a blink.

The huntsman has him pressed up against the edge of the countertop, his well-built arms a sturdy buttress, boxing him in, blocking his escape, not that Damian would want to.

"Thinkin' I could try ye in the meantime," the bounty hunter says.

It's a husky, soliciting suggestion, his mismatched eyes half-lidded with a vicious, predatory glint.

{End Preview}

[artifex-writing]

Miscommunication

A short story I wrote in seventh grade for English class. It was part of our unit on Hatchet, I think.

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

Raven was glad to finally be off of the cramped plane, but Leon almost looked as if she’d miss it. In fact, Raven almost had to drag her to the bag collection carousels. They grabbed their bags and patiently waited for a cab. Lucky for them, one arrived pretty quickly. The driver was a bit surprised at their location request but didn’t ask any questions. After all, Galloway Forest was a beautiful sight this time of year. The drive was a bit boring, but the siblings agreed that the scenery in Scotland was beautiful, just like their father had said. The driver dropped them off at the edge of the forest, which is where their dad had said his cabin should be. They didn’t see anything, so they just assumed that it was in the forest a little farther. The hiking path was well worn and showed the most wondrous things in the forest, but not their father’s cabin. Raven was starting to get antsy, and Leon was starting to worry. “Are you sure we’re not lost?” Leon asked quietly.

“Lost?” Raven repeated. “There’s no possible way! We’ve only been walking for what, 10 minutes?” He squinted at his watch.

Leon sighed. “Raven, that’s 10 minutes too long. We’re deep into the forest now. Face it, we don’t know what we’re doing.”

Raven tried to glare at Leon, but it just made her laugh. They both knew she was right. Their current options were to either continue walking or go back and search where they started. Raven wanted to do neither. Fortunately for him, a voice called out to them.

“Hey, I heard yelling out here! Are you still there?”

Leon made an X with her arms, signalling Raven to not call out. He didn’t want to stay stuck here, so he didn’t give Leon a second glance before replying.

“Yeah, we’re still here. Who are you?” Raven yelled.

They could hear the person walking towards them, and Leon got nervous.

“Do you ever think before acting, eejit?” Leon hissed at Raven.

“Sometimes,” he replied jokingly.

Now they could see the person, and she looked rather nice. She had on an unzipped windbreaker with a name tag that read “River”. Next to the name was a photo that thankfully matched River’s face.

“Now what are you two kids doing out here without parents?” River politely asked. She had a pleasant voice to listen to.

“Well we were trying to find our dad’s cabin, but it seems we’ve lost our way. We can't find it,” replied Raven.

“That’s not good! It’s kinda funny though because I thought I was in the same situation. Almost couldn’t make it back to my mom’s place.” River joked.

“Anyways, it’s gonna get dark soon, and it won't leave us time to search. I could take you to my mom’s cabin and make you some soup or something.”

Leon was superstitious, but Raven would take any chance to make a new friend. Raven nodded, agreeing with River. Leon rolled her eyes and followed along. It didn't take long for River to lead them to a petite little house off the trail. She welcomed the twins inside and got them situated.

"Alright you two, how does turtle soup sound?" Asked River.

Raven knew Leon would flip out over that, but he didn’t care. He was too busy looking at some of the decorations. There was a small fireplace with a hatchet on the mantle, pine cones and red berries stuck in a resin cube, and a pair of walkie talkies on an end table. He snapped back just in time to see Leon blush and regain her composure. It took a bit for the food to be ready, and it irritated the twins. Not because they were impatient, but because of how good it smelled. Once it was ready, they all sat at the small dining table and served themselves. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t the best thing ever. They all washed their dishes and gathered in the living room.

“So, I have board games—” River began.

Raven excitedly interrupted her, “That’s all you have to say. We’re staying up for a while now!”

And he certainly kept his promise. The three of them ended up playing games for an absurd amount of time. But it all ended when River finally looked at the time.

“Oh, goodness. You two should probably be in bed. We have a spare room that you guys can share. How does that sound?” River announced.

Raven seemed fine with it, but Leon was unsettled. Ever since River helped them, she had a sneaking suspicion that she was planning to do something to them. Was she really a park ranger?

“I don’t like this,” Leon whispered.

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t worry,” replied Raven.

This exchange surprised River, but she quickly understood it.

“Hey, there’s no reason to be paranoid. Now that I think about it, I think I know your dad. Is his name Winston?” River inquired.

Raven nodded once, holding his sister’s hand.

“Well, then I do know him. His cabin blends in with the trees, so it’s easy to miss. I can take you right there tomorrow!”

Leon felt a bit better now. Raven squeezed her hand.

“I think we’ll take the guest room,” Leon said confidently.

The twins were woken up by River and the smell of pancakes. They got dressed and joined River in the kitchen. They had a bit of an awkward breakfast but certainly a tasty one. River helped them pack their stuff back up and get ready to head out. But before they did, River gave something to Leon. An old stuffed teddy bear.

“I just thought you’d like something to hold in stressful moments.” River kindly told her.

Leon accepted it with joy, and then they were off. River successfully found their dad’s cabin and reunited him with his kids. He thanked River before closing the door, leaving her outside. She grinned before skipping back home to get ready for work. She always loved helping people, no matter how old or how young. She loved them anyway.

[goldendivinewrath]

@full-of-mercy

Can a voice be good, in and of itself? Can a voice be warm and attractive and inviting, or is he just so overcome with the soft echoes of pleasure that anything resting front and center in any of his senses is bound to be incredible?

He likes Wolfwood's voice. Usually, that is, but there's an extra element to it right now that he's enjoying. Specifically. Not that he can hope to classify exactly what that is, to work out the details in the moment. He just happens to wonder if everything is good and overwhelming and addictive, because touch is incredible. Vash isn't used to his thighs being good-sensitive, to the pleasant trembling warmth that seems to rise like effervescence right into his lower abdomen. Gathering there. And the look, the surge that comes with eye contact, that's good too. It usually isn't, it usually means getting caught, it's usually a warning to move--

He doesn't want to. Move, that is. He wants to stay there, leaning back, making contact. He's coming down from the high of orgasm, he is, but there's a... giddiness that remains. Maybe a little of that is coming from noticing that the other man's eyes seem to be just as drawn to him, and isn't that funny? Finally on the same page about something.

It's another instant when he's almost laughing, when the sound and the action are so close to coming into being that the sharp change in direction is almost jarring. He leans back, yes, but he doesn't exactly realize how much more on display he is, so the feel of confident fingers mixed with a still-tingling over-sensitivity-- It's not bad. Not bad at all, but the sound he makes is possibly meant to be offended, protest against being inspected, except that he can't find a single sign of disapproval in Wolfwood's expression.

Nothing about this has been anything he's gotten used to. Reflected a little in the softer, slower resonance which isn't quite relaxed as much as it feels at ease. Curious. Vash is still so wet, dripping, he can feel the petals shiver and the opening pulse and immediately knows how easy it's going to be to bring him to the edge again. Especially if Wolfwood's... studying him. He's encountered the one situation where he doesn't mind.

He hasn't had a chance to reciprocate. He tries to hold that knowledge in his mind, because he wants to, wants to look, at the very least, make his own study of what feels so close but so far away at the same time. He wants to watch exactly what he's doing, what it looks like when those muscles twitch under fingertips, teasing his way to his goal, but that would mean moving, and... no, he's certainly not doing that. As many accusations of being an idiot as he'll simply accept, there's a line.

(Or, there are different kinds of idiocy. He has his preferences.)

It doesn't happen all at once, but he loses track of events in a very pleasant jumble; the motion beneath him, behind him, isn't quite unexpected, but the sudden smear of wet warmth against his wrist is a surprise. A good one, sure, but it reveals the hint of something cool in that warmth and he really needs to look back and see; intrigue derailed entirely by Wolfwood's enthusiasm. Vash moans open-mouthed and unrestrained, feeling for a moment like he might have lost his sense of balance entirely before he realizes his legs have turned into trembling, unreliable jelly. Oddly enough, all the better to roll his hips into the other man's face and--

Does not help with concentration. Not one bit. The resonance pulses again along with panting breaths, soft little chirps accompanying each, and there's nothing left to hold back with. Electricity coils in his gut and between his legs, petals shivering and clinging lightly.

Thought. Right, thinking. Plans. He wants, he's got to just-- Just bend back a little more, showing off the reality of his sense of balance and flexibility one might not expect from bolts in his spine. It's not delicate, the way he reaches back and wraps his hand blindly around the hot, hard prize he seeks, grinning through the open-mouthed panting as he squeezes the shaft, strokes, measures and memorizes with fingers and thumb and palm with a little downward twist--

Maybe the better view is Wolfwood's face after all. What he can see of it. He's not exactly helping with that, but he is hoping he can encourage a race to the finish. Good-natured, of course.

Yes, Vash says. Yes. A couple of times.

"Yeah?" Wolfwood whispers in kind, soft and hungry, colored with a throaty eagerness that in other circumstances he might find mortifying. For the moment, though, he is beyond such considerations. Thinking is forbidden, after all, and Vash has his absolute focus. So what if his cheeks (and neck and clavicles and ears) blush-stain? Given what he is wearing, given how there is no space for the shimmering wet to cool, he is—and he remains—pleased. The barest gap sees him licking his lips, pulling his lower into the catch of his teeth, scuffing with his incisors. Inhale, nostril flare, swallow, as if he might burn it to memory, as if he might breathe Vash in, drink him down.

Yes. It is all that Wolfwood needs. Permission. Encouragement.

His head tips. Gentle-then-firm-then-gentle nibbles crest the softer, smoother skin of muscular inner thighs. His tongue follows as he thrums, watching.

Dark eyes meet lambent-bright ones and hold, spellbound. They did this. He caused this. The temblor he can feel clasping his shoulders. The honesty in Vash's face, sincere in a way Nicholas rarely sees that does not involve the barrel of a gun or the bottom of a bottle. He can even claim responsibility for every little tic and jolt as he works his way back toward the flared and colorful center still bloomed for him. It is inhuman, sure, but that hardly matters, because… because they were able to do this. The air is suffused with the smells of sweat and sex.

Heady.

Utterly intoxicating. A rush, not just of ego (a little bit of ego), but of an unguarded affection hungry for more.

Enough that Wolfwood nearly misses the question. A turn?

"Mmm. Mhm."

Eventually. This is more important. This is more interesting. He wants, wants, wants, wants to see, wants to seize on the twitches and curls and singing sensitivity. More. More.

As Vash leans back, his adjusted knee presents a whole different angle of leverage. Nicholas takes advantage, pure instinct, pure curiosity, winding his hand up and over to flatten his palm on the slope below Vash's navel. He keeps his gaze locked over the taut planes of scarred skin and dark leather for heartbeats he can feel through every extremity. At least for a moment.

Index and middle, ring and small, pair off on an adroit rotation of wrist, spreading with the familiarity of a Punisher trigger grip. Rapid fire. Tactile and ready and sure in exploration, they part the layered folds to expose Vash's hooded, textured bud to the humid air between them, and to inspection.

Here and now he gets a look up close. Takes it in, the roseate-smooth layers, the tendrilous fibrils limning visibly slick, the faint flicker of light like afterimage he accepts as more than a mirage.

As guides.

And then Vash approaches contact, reminding Wolfwood that he does indeed inhabit his body. Fundamentally aroused, unable to ignore the sweeping tingle-arc-spark of electric touch igniting nerves and coalescing low and throbbing, he gulps in a hitched gasp, abdomen bunching and buttocks flexing as he restrains himself from too far of a jostle. Though he is unable to see, he bumps against Vash's wrist. Firebrand-hot, flushed deep russet and dewy, his skin starkly contrasts the bright silver of his piercing. A transparent thread of pre connects him to the fuzz of his own abdomen, smearing now between curious fingers.

"God… Fuck."

Lips and tongue and fingers, suction and humming resonance, it is all he can do to bury his desperate whimper-and-groan between Vash's legs, laving, sucking, stroking with intent.

Maybe with a note of challenge.

[cassandraclare]

The Whispering Room: James’ POV

Here it is finally — James’ POV of the Whispering Room scene from Chain of Gold. I wanted to wait until Chain of Iron was released to give more people a chance to read the book, and also because what we learn in COI does inform the scene. I hope you enjoy!

*art by Cassandra Jean

Cortana wove with her words, underlining each one with steel. She turned as her sword turned, and her body curved and moved like water or fire, like a river under an infinity of stars. It was beautiful—she was beautiful, but it was not a distant beauty. It was a beauty that lived and breathed and reached out with its hands to crush James’s chest and make him breathless. — Chain of Gold

James had felt a strange emotion when Daisy first took the stage at the Hell Ruelle. It was a mix of several feelings...

worry on her behalf, annoyance at Kellington, curiosity, and admiration for her bravery and poise. It was unfair of these Bohemians to force her to caper for them, and, he thought, a bit insulting to Shadowhunters in general. He supposed that Matthew had given them a rather unusual view of what the Nephilim were like in such circumstances.

And then she had begun to dance. And suddenly she was not Daisy, his old friend. She was Cordelia, whose name meant heart, whose every gesture was fire. Every earthly worry he’d had had been swept out of his mind. He was conscious only of Cordelia, whirling back and forth across the small stage. Cortana danced around her, shedding light like embers. The dull glow of the lamps illuminated her body, describing her every movement, her every curve as she danced. Her scarlet hair whipped around her in time to the music, and the golden light of the lamps in the Ruelle slipped across her skin, slow and hot, like beads of honey. The cadences of her voice, rising and falling, seemed to weave a cage of silken thread about her audience, and James was no exception.

Later, James would think it was odd that he had not compared her to Grace. Grace had never entered his mind at all. Cordelia danced, and by the end of her performance, James’s entire life had been disassembled and put back together in a new and different shape. He was conscious of Matthew, beside him, also staring as the crowd cheered, his sharp cheekbones flushed. He looked dazed; James couldn’t blame him.

Cordelia descended the stage and slipped through the crowd to come back to them, blushing at the looks and murmured comments she was drawing from the audience now. James could see the desire in the eyes that followed her. Everyone wanted her. He felt a dull fury. They had no right. They did not know Cordelia. She was more than just that dance.

When she reached them she let out a long breath of relief and smiled. She glowed with the exercise of dancing. Sweat beaded along her collarbones, shimmered between her breasts. Her eyes were bright as Cortana’s blade, strapped to her back.

“Bloody hell,” Matthew exclaimed.  “What was that?”

A look of uncertainty crossed Cordelia’s face. James said, “It was a fairy tale, Math,” and Matthew nodded. His dark green eyes searched Cordelia’s face, as if looking for the key to a locked room he had only just discovered.

Cordelia looked uncertain. James couldn’t bear that. She’d been magnificent; she should know it. But he couldn’t say that, of course. It would only make her self-conscious.

“Well done, Cordelia,” James said instead; when he unfolded his arms; his wrist hurt and he wondered if he’d been clenching his hands.

Cordelia. He hadn’t called her Daisy, and she looked a little surprised. It seemed inappropriate, somehow. Daisy was Lucie’s friend, the Merry Thieves’ compatriot; he found it a smaller name than she deserved. Cordelia, though—she had been a queen, hadn’t she? Queen Cordelia, daughter of Leir, ruler of Britain before the Romans had ever landed on those shores. Like Boadicea, a legendary warrior queen. A blazing white fire behind fathomless black eyes.

“Anna has disappeared with Hypatia,” James said, noting the empty settee, “so I would call your distraction a success.”

Cordelia’s lips twitched into a smile. “How long does a seduction usually last?”

“Depends if you do it properly,” Matthew said, with a wink. James felt it as a spark of relief, a bit of lightness amid the feeling that something heavy was sitting on his chest.

“Well, I hope for Hypatia’s sake Anna does it properly,” James said. He registered, with the reflexes of a parabatai, that Matthew had gone still next to him, and wondered what was wrong. “Yet for our sake, I hope she hurries it up.”

All hint of Matthew’s jocular tone from before was gone. “Both of you,” he said urgently. “Listen.”

Did he mean all the muttering about Shadowhunters? Was he only noticing it now? It had followed them since they came into the place. But when James followed Matthew’s gaze, he found Kellington staring with an expression of vexation, not at them but at the door. All questions were answered as through the door came Charles Fairchild, looking around him with a haughty expression. He looked like was about to raid the place; so much for whatever work Matthew and Anna had done for Downworlder-Shadowhunter relations here.

Matthew narrowed his eyes. “Charles,” he sighed. “By the Angel, what is he doing here?”

Charles was, James thought, probably looking for them. He was making his way through the crowd and gazing around him. Luckily for them, the crowd was not interested in letting him through, and he was moving very slowly.

“We should go,” James said. “But we can’t leave Anna.”

In one way, at least, Charles’s arrival was helpful; it threw a bucket of cold water on the roiling heat that had gripped James’s heart since Cordelia had begun her dance. Back to the matter at hand: a demon, a Pyxis, a plan.

“You two run and hide yourselves,” Matthew said, still keeping his eyes on his brother. “Charles will go off his head if he sees you here.”

“But what about you?” said Cordelia.

Matthew shrugged, but James could see the tension in his jaw and his shoulders. “He’s used to this kind of thing from me. I’ll deal with Charles.”

Not for the first time, James wished that his parabatai wasn’t in such a hurry to sacrifice his own reputation. He exchanged a long look with Matthew, but Matthew was sure, and determined, and his desire to rush into his own humiliation was an issue that would have to wait. Nodding, he turned and caught Cordelia’s hand with his own. “This way,” he said, and she nodded back in acknowledgement. As he pulled them into the crowd he heard Matthew’s voice calling, “Charles!” in a hearty tone of pleasant, if entirely false, welcome.

James didn’t know his way around the place, and the crowd made orientating himself even more difficult, but after some trial and error he and Cordelia managed to get behind Kellington and slip into a corridor leading away. This wasn’t safe in itself, since from the main chamber one would have a clear view down the entire corridor. In fact, they were temporarily more exposed than before, and James’s hope for the hallway to take a quick turn or to contain large statuary to hide behind was quickly dashed. He continued to hold onto Cordelia’s hand, not that he needed to; she seemed to know her way better than he did.

Partway down the corridor, James caught sight of an open door — its silver plaque labeling it the entrance to THE WHISPERING ROOM. Swiftly he drew Cordelia inside, out of sight. He slammed the door behind them, causing a loud noise, but he thought it couldn’t possibly be heard over the crowd in the main chamber. Only then did he release Cordelia’s hand and take stock of their surroundings.

The room was dimly lit, but not cold: a scented fire burned in the grate, filling the space with the smell of sandalwood and roses. It was a study, he guessed, based on the gigantic walnut desk against the wall and the bookshelves opposite, but it was too richly decorated to be solely a place for studious contemplation. Phoenix feathers and dragon scales danced across the gilded wallpaper; there were no windows, but the walls were hung with patterned tapestries, the floor covered with a rug so thick James felt his boots sink into it as he moved further into the room.

Cordelia had leaned her back against the wall next to the door. Her eyes were closed and she was taking deep, full breaths, calming herself down. Cortana gleamed gold over her shoulder; the firelight gleamed a deeper gold on her skin, which seemed to take and hold its warmth. James curled his fingers in against his palm.

He wanted to touch her. He half-turned away, pretending to study the books on the wall. Any other time, he would have been fascinated by the titles. Now they seemed distant, neither immediate nor imporant. He could have sworn he heard his own heart hammering. He said, “Where did you learn to dance like that?” surprising himself with the roughness of his own voice.

His gaze snapped back to Cordelia as she opened her eyes and gave a little shrug. There was something magical about the dress she wore: it followed the shape of her own body rather than the shape of corsetry or whalebone petticoats. It slid softly against her skin as she moved, just as her dark red hair tickled the bare skin of her throat, her shoulders. “I had a dance instructor in Paris. My mother believed that learning to dance aided in learning grace in battle.”

The word grace pierced James like an icicle. He could not quite picture Grace at the moment, it was true; could not quite envision her face. He had given Grace his heart — that was an immutable fact, something he knew as he knew that two plus two equaled four. But he had to admit that at the moment his heart did not feel given. It felt like a thrumming machine inside his chest, pumping blood and heat.

“That dance,” Cordelia added with a quirk of her soft mouth that struck James like a blow to the stomach, “was forbidden to be taught to unmarried ladies. But my dance instructor did not care.”

“Well,” James said, keeping his voice steady with practiced control, “thank the Angel you were there. Matthew and I could certainly not have pulled off that dance on our own.”

Cordelia turned away from him, the smile still on her face, as though she were keeping it secret from him. She trailed her hand along the top of Hypatia’s desk. At one end was a stack of papers held down by a large copper bowl of fruit, and she brought her hand up to trace its rim.

James may have been distracted beyond the capacity for distraction he’d known before, but he was still a Shadowhunter. “Be careful,” he said warningly. “I suspect that is faerie fruit. It has no effect on warlocks—no magical effect, at least. But on humans…”

Cordelia pulled her hand back as though stung. “Surely it does not harm you if you do not eat it.”

“Oh, it does not. But I have met those who have tasted it. The say the more you have of it, the more you want, and the more you ache when you can…have no more.”

Cordelia was looking at him now, and though it took a great summoning of courage, he returned her gaze. In her dark eyes the silver and blue flames of the fireplace danced. James could not catch his breath. He had never felt this before, this breathlessness. It was like pain, but with a sweet, sharp edge. Like licking honey from a knife. He said, in a low voice, “And yet. I have always thought…is not knowing what it tastes like just another form of torture? The torture of wondering?”

The door shook on his hinges suddenly, making a clatter that made both he and Cordelia jerk their heads around to look at it. The knob was starting to turn.

Cordelia paled. “We’re not meant to be in here —“

James’s world closed down to just this: Cordelia was here, she was with him, and she looked frightened. He would do anything to stop that look on her face. He caught her in his arms, and the relief was incredible — he had not realized how much he wanted to be touching her until he was. Until he was holding her, and her strength and warmth and softness were all pressed against him, and her face was so beautiful it hurt, and her lips were parted in surprise and without another thought he kissed them.

He could feel her sharp intake of breath with his hands, clasped together at her lower back. She gasped, but did not draw back, or away — he thought he would have died if she had — she leaned into him, her full lips opening under his. She was kissing him back. He tasted honey, smelled jasmine and smoke. His hand slid up her warm cheek and into the soft fall of her hair.

Time stopped.

Cordelia’s arms were around his neck. Her lush mouth opened a little against his, and the kiss deepened. He moved his hand to the back of her neck to bring her closer. Her teeth grazed his lower lip, and he couldn’t help it; he moaned, and felt her tremble against him.

Very far away, a voice chuckled and the door closed with a soft click. This whole thing had been intended as a ruse, he knew, for the benefit of whomever was trying to get into the Whispering Room. Probably some Ruelle attendees, Downworlders most likely, who had snuck off for a rendez-vous.

Ruse accomplished, then. With intense regret, James drew back from Cordelia. Her hand, warm and soft and wonderful, was against his neck; her fingers stroked his pale white scar. Her eyes were fixed at the level of his shoulder. He could hear himself say her name — Daisy, my Daisy — instead of responding, she whispered, “I think more people are coming.”

He knew it wasn’t true. He didn’t care. He knew what she was saying: that she was asking and giving permission at once. All James’ life, he had struggled for control: control over his sudden falls into shadow, control over the dark world he could see, that was invisible to everyone else. He had worked and fought and trained for control every day, and for the first time in as long as he could remember it deserted him.

The walls he had put up burned to the ground in an instant as he caught Cordelia to him. He groaned against her mouth, his hands slipping over the silk of her dress, the hot satin of her skin. He undid the strap that held Cortana, got rid of it somehow — carefully, he hoped — and let himself fall back into delirium.

He did not ask himself why he had never felt desire like this before. He could not. He was lost in the feel of her, the incline of her waist, the flare of her hips, the rise and fall of her chest as she gasped. They were kissing wildly, uncontrolled; they fetched up against the desk, Cordelia’s back to it.

Her body bent backward in an impossible arch, her hands going behind her to brace herself. Her eyes half-closed, her head fell back, revealing the bare column of her throat. He pressed his lips there, eliciting a gasp of surprised pleasure.

His hands trailed up the sleek material of her dress — he could feel the heat of her skin through it — from her waist to the neckline of her gown. His palms followed her curves until the tips of his fingers were pressing into the bare bronze skin just above the neckline of her dress. She was sleek and soft and hot all at the same time, like nothing else he’d ever touched. He heard her whimper; she was saying his name, and his heart beat in time with her words: James, James, Jamie please.

The please undid him; shrugging off his frock coat, he caught hold of her around the waist, lifting her until she was perched on the edge of the desk. The material of her dress bunched around her knees, her thighs, as she took hold of his shirt by the starched front and kissed him. His mouth drove against hers, hot and demanding, even as he clambered onto the desk after her. She reached up her arms for him and he sank down on top of her, bracing his weight with a hand above her head.

He paused, just for a moment, looking down at her. Her scarlet hair fanned out across the desk, her eyes glazed, her full lips red from kissing. He was cradled by her body, her legs on either side of his hips, her skirt rucked up nearly to her waist. She wrapped her long, bare legs around him and he shuddered. What was in him, what he wanted, was inchoate but insistant, a force he’d never known. A yearning like hot wires in his blood, the pain-pleasurable ache of unbearable wanting that drove him to kiss her again, kiss her harder. She tangled her hands in his hair, pulling at it as he kissed her breasts, flicking his tongue over the sensitive skin until she gave a low scream and clutched at him with desperate hands.

He sank down against her and kissed her, hot and deep and hard. She arched into the kiss, her breath coming in gasps. He felt her through the thinner material of his shirt: the heat of her, the swell of her breasts against his chest, her hands smoothing over his chest, his sides.

His hands aching to touch her in kind, to find out what she liked, what made her gasp, and do it again and again . . . Nothing had ever felt like this, nothing. He’d known desire before; so he remembered, so he had believed. It turned out he had stepped into a puddle and thought it was the sea. As Cordelia moved in his arms, as her lips, he realized there was a depth to desire he hadn’t even guessed at: that it was more than just desperation, but joy and need and wanting and being wanted back. It was a fever dream, his hands sliding up under the heavy satin of her skirts, the salt-sweet taste of her skin, the soft sounds of her pleasure as she urged him closer, urged him onward, the desk seeming to spin beneath them.

He heard, as if at a great distance, the sound of the door opening. He lifted his head, saw the slim fair-hared figure in the doorway. Ice washed through his veins. Cordelia stiffened, began to scramble to sit up. No, he thought, but he couldn’t stop her, couldn’t blame her. It — whatever it had been — was over.

He slid off the desk. Already the fever was vanishing, that feeling —the glorious freedom from the burden of his own will — receding. Grasping at his control, he drew it around himself,  reaching for his coat, turning to calmly meet the gaze of his parabatai.

“James?” Matthew said.

[thattimdrakeguy]

A  Random Review of Titans United: Bloodpact

Sorry some of these pics are blurry. Some are really big and Tumblr doesn’t like them. So Hopefully they’re still readable.

For the simple reason of me enjoying how Tim Drake was drawn on the cover of the issue I decided to read it, despite me mostly choosing not to read any modern comic, because of my displeasure of the writing choices.

But Tim’s pretty unlucky with artists and how they draw him so seeing this was enough for me to give it a quick look.

I don’t exactly need a deep reason to read a comic.

But it ended up being a very pleasant surprise, because I wasn’t expecting much since it was a Titans comic, and apparently has the line-up of the live action show that I thought was boring. And used T-Shirt Kon, who I don’t particularly favor.

It ended being a surprisingly fun read. Not a really deep one, or a completely smooth read, but a really fun read.

Most of the first issue is a big fight, so instead of actual character moments, it’s more like “OH NOW IT’S THIS PERSON’S CHANCE TO SAY A LINE, AND NOW THEIRS” and so on. So if you’re reading because you love Starfire or Donna Troy or someone, you aren’t going to get much out of this first issue.

However to my shock, it was mostly focused on Tim Drake.

And all around has a damn good Tim Drake in it.

Tim Drake even inside the book and not just on it’s cover is very clearly identifiable as Tim Drake. Making him the smallest member of the team, along with his famously notable baby-face, big eyes, and classic hairstyle. Things that, despite literally being his description within the comics themselves, have a hard time being depicted often enough that it’s considered a pain.

He actually starts the comic off in his normal clothes, and before I read a single line I could tell it was Tim, because of how he was drawn, which isn’t always the case sadly. Sometimes he can be in costume and I’ll not be sure if it’s Tim because it doesn’t look like him.

This isn’t only a thing for Tim as well. All the other characters are drawn very distinctly so that if they were in streetwear as well, you could also tell who they are very easily. (On a side note I quite like the clothes they put Tim in. Simple, and comfy. Just feels very Timmy. Never a fan of when they dress him up extra formal or something, and tired of the generic button up look on him.)

Compared to someone like Dan Mora, who while also being a fantastic artist. Basically draws Tim Drake Robin and Dick Grayson Robin as the exact same person in a different outfit. Which isn’t favorable.

It’s increasingly rare to see an artist put in the effort to make sure the characters look like themselves if they don’t fit the typical depiction of a super hero, so it was a very welcomed addition.

Only one who looks a bit off might be Conner, who, apart from my opinion on his costume in this, just looks a little bit off. I think it might be the hair, ‘cause I don’t think he’s ever had a haircut like this.

But that’s a nit-pick if I’ve ever heard. So really, who gives a damn.

I’m mostly just having fun seeing Tim pop up all tiny-like in several panels. With several moments showing the team being a bit protective for him, which also feels right back at home for Tim. Never in any overwhelming way, but in a way that feels right without being distracting. Never making it too much about Tim that he feels overbearing when it’s a team book.

The writings also very fun, and writes the characters, it does put a bit more of a spotlight on pretty well. It starts off sort of old school with it’s style of narration, but it gives it a really interesting charm that I appreciated.

Beast Boy has his usual snarky, self-absorbed-ish attitude. And I really enjoyed how Dick and some of the other more typical Titans have a more mature attitude to them, that shows that are grown and serious.

Which is so satisfying in the way of Dick Grayson, because let me tell you, I am so sick of the depiction of Dick Grayson as a some sort of man child or doofus. He’s been a very serious, concerned, hard of himself, workaholic since maybe even before the 80s. To strip that away just to make him a sitcom character always came across as disrespectful for me.

Tim, who again, is the surprising focus of this first issue, and possibly the rest of the comic going off of how important he is to the beginning in end of the issue, but we’ll have to see on that, but anyways, is written very well.

I was super pleased with how Tim was written, because it felt like a fully rounded version of him, and not a fraction of him, or a generic hero that a writer placed his name on.

It shows how naturally heroic he is instantly, but doesn’t overwhelm the reader with that to the point he’s horrendously boring.

It’s the best representation of Tim Drake and Dick Grayson’s actual relationship in years. It’s not just redoing something they did 20 to 30 years ago. It’s new content of them being baby brother and big brother, having a back and forth full of teasing.

Seeing Timmy have his bratty baby brother side be shown for the first time in a way that’s felt authentic in years has been wonderful, even if it’s only for a page or two, because it sucks me in to this world, believing it’s actually in the same universe as the stories I love, instead of butchering it. It feels natural, because it’s them, not a pandering mess. It’s just them being them, and they’re fantastic together.

Timmy Drake also has his very very boyish and juvenile energy back. And is also made clear to be the ultimate underdog of the DC Universe, also very representative of who Tim is. Again, adding more layers to him, that represent who he is, through natural dialogue that feels appropriate for the moment, and authentic as if these are real people living in this fantasy and sci-fi laced world.

And overall when it comes to Tim, really shows how simple it honestly is to write the kid. He is not a difficult character to write. It’s done with such ease that I adore it.

These are such small moments into the overall, but it doesn’t matter, because seeing a Tim Drake just be Tim Drake, and showing off his different layers is a rarity. It is probably the best Tim writing since issue 1 of Sum of Our Parts, since...sadly Fitzmartin has shown that she isn’t really a great writer...and has...bad tendencies that really just insult the audience.

Could this also happen with this writer? Very well possibly. But that’s just how it is. Some writers stay good. Some writers are good but have bad moments. Some writers are bad and have good moments. In the end these writers are people, and people aren’t perfect. The same way I’m not perfect, and you’re not perfect. It’s simply how it is, as disheartening as it can be at times.

In the end it’s just fun, and represents them well. Though I’m just now realizing after posting that panel that Gar just said their real names which is...not very hero-y but oh well. It happens.

At the end of the story even it shows Tim’s good heart, empathy, and detectively mind without going overboard to the point it feels like flanderization.

There’s not much I can say beyond it’s overall super solid, and super satisfying if you’re a Tim Drake fan. Wish I could say more about the other characters. But they all seem to know each other, creating a nice big open world feel, and it’s nice. Sort of homely, ignoring how there’s a major fight happening. It makes the world feel real, which is rare, when so many other comics end up so inconsistent it never feels right.

I’d recommend reading it for sure.

It just goes to show that the good stuff doesn’t come from changing the characters in random ways.

The good stuff comes from putting our favorite characters in fun situations that highlight their personalities.

And Titans United: Bloodpact does it in spades.

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 13: ...O-OH?

it’s the night of the big stream. y/n uncovers a strange, albeit deep, bond with charlie. corpse interrupts her garden date with sykkuno quite unceremoniously. tensions are high as ever; proximity chat reveals internal monologues and stray thoughts. y/n’s “batshit insane” energy affects everyone. this is, quite literally, the best game of among us bretman has ever played.

─── corpse husband x reader, sykkuno x reader (if you squint, it’s very one sided)  ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 6.1k oops ─── ❥ reqs: sum people requested some interaction w bretman + jealous corpse + flirty sykkuno

author’s note: guys....GUYS WE’RE ON THE 3RD “OH” hope ur excited cus i am!!! this was rly fun to write, but then again, everything is better than writing an essay lmao! this is extremely chaotic and a bit seggsy but like a minuscule bit u wont even notice it i swear xx there’s not much social media in this one, mostly written lol. as always lmk wat u think n thank u for all ur kind words n sooo manyyyy ideassss!!! love u lots

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous. ҉   next.

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It’s happening, you think, picking the discreet, angelic white color for your astronaut - with a halo and all, truly, you are a seraph that stepped through the gates of heaven and descended onto earth to grace these morals with your presence...quite literally, you’re not only donning white in game, but also in real life, cute as a button or more like as a bunny. Cat girls are overrated - cat boys, on the other hand, you’ll ardently defend till your last breath - but bunny girls...Safe to say, your chat had been going feral. Your endless ego is fed well. You even swore on your heart that no devilish trickery would follow in this game - you had left your snake ways behind you.

No one believed you. The Roaches know you too fucking well.

The influx of new subs, however, do not. Look at this cute girl! She wouldn’t hurt a fly! You chuckle at the compliments. At the exact same moment, Rae pipes up on the discord call, “Y/n is leering and cackling evilly. No one trust her.”

Demon woman herself must be watching your stream before starting her own. You pout, all adorable and innocent, but your eyes gleam slyly. Truly, a mastermind of manipulation! Look at you go! The chat is swooning. The viewer number steadily climbs past 16K and you hum happily, welcoming all that decided to join your little clan, “Don’t listen to Rae. Wifey is mad because I said I’m not bringing her back a souvenir. Well guess what, bitch, I’m the gift.”

Your perfect image does not quite align with your tone, nor the affectionate nickname you call your roommate (bitch, not wifey). The new viewers are none the wiser though, just like your new stream mates.

There is laughter from people you don’t quite know. The lobby is almost full, but not everyone has trickled in yet.

“Filing divorce papers right now.” Rae mumbles, but you hear the smile in her voice. It makes you crack a grin, too. 

More hello’s and shy introductions to the people in the lobby. Sykkuno’s green astronaut pops in with a upbeat, “Hey, everyone! Hi, Y/n!” as his character circles around yours. A collective awww echoes in your stream chat as you, quite breathless at the wholesomeness, reply with a “Hi! Hi hi!” as well.

Corpse is next to join, mysteriously ominous. The discord call is pure chaos, everyone screaming over the other variations of his name while stressing different syllables. Silent as a grave, he just stands there, his black astronaut seemingly eyeing everyone in the lobby. 

Alas, when the noise dies down, he utters, “Whaddup, baby.” and it’s pandemonium all over again. You are screeching/laughing along with the rest. His astronaut swiftly glides to Sykkuno, still circling around you, “Hey, Sykkuno.” He says. The latter abruptly stops. The game hasn’t even started, and already - betrayal! Sykkuno starts circling around Corpse now, leaving you in the dust.

“Hey, dude!”

“Yo,” You interrupt, “I’m like here too, yeah?”

“Fight, fight, fight!” Pokimane jeers. You can’t see her, but you’re certain she’s pumping her fists in the air. 

“Let’s leave the bloodshed for the game, yeah?” Dream offers past her laugh ridden urging.

“No, fuck that, let’s start this shit right now,” Charlie declares - his monotone is strangely pleasant to the ear, and you lean back in your chair with a thoughtful hum. Something about his energy just clicks with yours instantly, but perhaps you’re judging too quickly- “Got my fucking knife ready to slit some throats. You can all pretend you aren’t ready to kill on sight, but that’s not me. I’ll teabag your dead fucking body.”

-yeah, no, your initial estimate had been correct! What a pleasant surprise, you feel like you and he will get along beautifully. 

“Way to be subtle, Charles.” Rae snorts.

“Subtle doesn’t make an interesting game, Rae,” He’s quick to bite back, “and if I’m Impostor, you bet your fucking ass I’m going after you first.”

“Noooooo!” She shrieks, rushing to your astronaut, which is still just standing there, abandoned, like the equivalent of that one emoji, “Y/n, protect me.”

“Of course, baby.” You purr. 

There’s mumbling in the discord call, though it’s barely audible. Corpse seems to be repeating the word to himself: Baby...Baby?...Baby...

“You’re gonna stab me in the back the first chance you get, won’t you?” She questions, already painfully aware of the answer.

“You know it!”

“Finally, someone that’s not fucking cowering in their boots and flaunting their real nature.” Charlie says, “Y/n, form a Big Dick Alliance with me.”

“Oh for sure, man.” You agree immediately, trailing to his in game figure, “Let’s show these virgins how it’s done.”

“This is going to be a mess, isn’t it?” Sean’s voice rings with a cheerful laugh, making you flustered. Yes, you’re actually playing with THE JacksepticeyeTM. You still haven’t fully wrapped your head around that part, “I’m very excited to see where this will go.”

“Nowhere good.” You say with unparalleled sincerity - every word you speak to him, the icon, the legend, the one of the few youtubers you actually actively follow, must be genuine. You doubt you can lie to him. He’s too good of a person. You admire him too much. Stuck between wanting to be a shady bitch and an absolute saint, you refrain from addressing him more - you are simply not worthy.

its the y/n trying to act like a normal person in front of jack for me

ikr she looks ready to join the monastery

each day we stray closer to gods light???

Your viewers are snide as always. Gosh, you love them.

The last player pops in, fashionably late, “Hey, y’all.”

“Hey, Bretman!” The call choruses somewhat harmoniously.

“Hi, daddy.” He’s speaking to Corpse now, a smile in his voice - you can hear it even past the static of his atrocious mic. Your eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up. Your friends are cackling, but confusion refrains you from doing the same - were you not the only one Corpse offered, seemingly so long ago!, to be his sugar baby? 

One betrayal after the other. You’re glad for the Big Dick Alliance. The name has a nice right to it, too. 

Corpse laughs, “...Hey, Bretman. How are you today?”

Damn, two sentences for him, but not even a word spoken to you!? You’re already scripting a very melodramatic paragraph you will text him after the stream. With poorly masked discontent, you mutter, “Wow, thanks for such a warm welcome, Corpse, my day’s going great, yeah, loving the company.”

“Now now miss girl,” Bretman chimes, “we can’t be all daddy’s favorite.”

“Careful,” Charlie drones, “I think you just got yourself onto Y/n’s shit list.”

“Right next to Corpse Husband and Valkyrae.” You agree, “Sykkuno!” You suddenly call him.

“Uhm-Uh-Yes?” Is his nervous reply.

“You’re safe.” You state coldly, “For now.”

“You are not going after Sykkuno on my watch.” It must be a belated holiday miracle because Corpse finally decides to address you. His words seem to awake something in him, “Hey-Hey-Hey-” He swiftly glides to you, standing right next to your minute virtuous angel, “When are you coming back to Cali?”

corpse stop acting weird challenge

literally omg lmao

he does bring up a good point y/n y u not in cali yet?!

^pack it up corpse simp he disrespected the queen when he didnt say hi

“Back off, buddy,” Charlie interjects, “this spot is for Big Dick Alliance members only.”

“I’m never returning.” You inform him, your voice cold like the Arctic snow, and the look in your eyes is no kinder. You feel like you’re having a stare down through screen. 

Silence stretches. Is this an intimidation tactic? Because if it is, it’s a paltry one. Your conviction to be petty is stronger than any vulnerability you might feel.

“Then I have nothing to say to you.” He admits and fucks right off with that. Fine, go join Sykkuno and Rae in their little corner of betrayal! Friendship ended with Corpse, now Charlie is your best friend.

“Okay, guys, guys, guys-” Toast, noting this is going to spiral any minute now, tries to catch their attention, “Let’s start?!”

You look into your camera, and the roaches know what you’re thinking. You’re twins like that, communicating telepathically. You are taking back your tender promise of not being a conniving bastard. It’s fucking on. You will destroy everyone in your path, starting with the guy you have a stupid crush on - maybe?! Feelings are confusing, you’d rather just not think point blank period.

With no objections from the cast, the counter ticks away seconds and, for the first round, you’re stuck as CREW MATE.

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Charlie is a gift. Truly, you had not expected such a sudden, wonderful relationship to bloom. How have you not known of him sooner?! It’s a crime that you hadn’t spoken to him earlier. You are a 100% certain if you had found him before you started streaming, he would’ve been a big inspiration. 

The two of you do your silly little tasks and curse like sailors, commenting about this and that thanks to proximity chat. You wouldn’t have been able to stand the claustrophobic silence if it was just a normal Among Us game - to think, missing out on all his foully worded quips! It almost springs a tear into your eye. He’s just as unhinged as you.

worried about this dynamic 

its a trainwreck lol i love it plz collab more plz

Caught in a headed discussion in Electrical - TikTok trends, or audios specifically - you defend the app the best you can. Charlie thinks it’s super cringe, and you insist it’s part of the charm as you connect wires.

“I mean, have...-do you know that one audio, the one that goes, like,” You’re spilling your words, heated, frustrated that he’s so dismissive of the app that literally saved 2020, “it goes like, uhm,” You clear your throat, prep your voice - even take a sip of your favorite drink. Drawing the syllables, you try your best to make it drop an octave - it must sound like you’re doing an atrociously bad and nauseatingly scratchy Corpse impression with an extra dramatic flair, “My assssssss, your cockkk, you do the mathhh.”

“Did-Did I just-” You freeze hearing Corpse’s voice, finally done with your task. Charlie is muffling his laughter behind his palm; Corpse’s astronaut stands in the doorway, “What the fuck did I just walk into?” He seems genuinely confused, though a strangely winded. You’re mortified. Your shoulders are shaking. You look at the stream chat but it’s going too fast for you to follow. Manic laughter bubbles in your chest and you squeeze your eyes shut, mouth split into a toothy grin, lowering your head and trying to hide the blush dusting your cheeks.

“Hey? Guys? What the fuck are you talking about?” He questions again.

“Honestly?” Charlie chimes, “No fucking clue. TikTok, I think. Ask Y/n.”

You can’t reply. You’re crying. You cover your face with your palms, muttering a soft oh my god before bursting into a full blow laugh, throwing your head back, the motion accidentally knocking your headphones off.

“Y/n.” Corpse calls you, “Fuck was that?”

You’re howling. Your stomach hurts. There are literal tears in your eyes. You think Charlie might be laughing too, but you can’t really tell over your loud screeching. Hastily fixing your headphones, you wipe away the tears stuck to your lower lashes, heaving, “S-Sorry, I-” You stutter, breaking into another fit of giggles. Corpse patiently waits you to calm down. Catching your breath, you start again with a sniffle, “TikTok, yeah.” You idly fix your hair, trying to bite down a smile, “It’s an audio.”

“What- What kind of videos are you watching?”

“The good kind.” Your reply is instant, merciless, “Also, why are you here? We’re having a BDA meeting, you know.”

“I-I...” He trails off, “I...I heard people talking and...I just came here to check it out, but...I’m regretting it.” There’s a lilt in his voice, and you know he doesn’t regret jack shit. You bet he’s smiling. You wish you could see it.

“Bitch, then leave!” You huff. You aren’t sure what is with him today, and you don’t want to stick around and find out - his playfulness makes your stomach flip at the most inappropriate times! Like when you’re trying to sound threatening. You must retreat posthaste, “No, wait, I’ll do it for you.” You say, brushing past his character. Charlie follows after you.

“Dude, you’re so fucking lucky neither of us are the Impostor because you’d be deader than I’ve been feeling since I was 10.” Your favorite companion comments. Charlie is truly a modern wordsmith. You’re pretty sure you adore him, because you’re nodding your head, so quick to agree with him that even you’re surprised. 

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

A meeting is called. You spare a glance at your fallen crew mates. They will be missed. Sean most of all, God, why does heaven always take the good ones?! The game feels emptier without him, even if you really only passed him once on your trek to Cafeteria with Charlie.

You may or may not have been avoiding him, afraid you’d accidentally say something horrible and he would hate you. It’s a silly fear, though a deep one. And with Charlie keeping you company, you had not uttered a single objectively  good, or even coherent, sentence. Your parents can’t watch this stream once it’s uploaded onto your Youtube channel. They know you’re barely keeping it together in most of your videos, but here, now? Yeah, no. Charlie is already hard to listen to on his own for sensitive viewers, and hearing you agree with literally everything he says with your own chaotic ideas? Your dad would stumble into an early grave.

Mom probably wouldn’t mind too much, but you’d have to explain your relationship status again. She is under the assumption that everyone you collab with is your significant other. You’d say it began with Sykkuno, though the exclamation of “Finally! My daughter isn’t pathetically single! We need to celebrate.” had started with Rae. Truly, a scandal.

Speaking of which, Sykkuno is gone, too, but you had time to mourn him already. You found his body roughly ten minutes ago; so torn with the fresh agony of heartbreak, you could not do anything else but cry. It was Charlie, bless his heart, that reported it.

“Someone killed Jack,” You say, voice dripping with venom, “court is now in session. I’m ready to vote the fucker out.”

People speak all at once. Toast roars over them, “ORDER! ODER IN COURT!” as he slams his hand onto his desk repeatedly. That seems to work, though briefly.

“I think it’s Y/n.” Corpse says. You stare at him, hand gripping your heart, mouth falling open in surprise.

flame him

corpse boutta be a corpse fr

beat his ass queen!!!!!

“Pardon my french,” You grumble, “but nani the fuck?!”

“It’s definitely Y/n, I found her and Charlie conspiring in Electrical. Surrealist experience of my fucking life, but it’s definitely her.”

“Dude, we’ve been over this,” Charlie sighs, shushing Rae who was about to comment something - knowing your luck, it was probably in favor of the man throwing you under the bus, “we would’ve snapped your fucking neck the moment you walked in. But we didn’t.”

“Yeah, we didn’t.” Corpse notes, “I said nothing about you, I’m just saying it’s definitely her. She probably didn’t kill in front of you because of your stupid alliance-”

“Someone sounds salty because he wasn’t invited.” Pokimane snickers.

“-or possibly she did tell you and you won’t betray her for the exact same reason.”

“That’s some big brain logic you pulled there, genius,” Charlie says, absolutely unimpressed, “sure you didn’t have an aneurysm trying to connect all of that together?”

“Well,” Rae pipes up, “Y/n and Charlie did say they will kill right before the game started. If you ask me, it’s not unbelievable. And Sykkuno was sorta on the shit list.”

“I’m writing down your name twice, Rachell.” You spit.

“Not helping your case at all, Y/n...” Dream worries, “And Rae makes a good point. Charlie and you have professed desire for murder. I’m just saying! It’s a bit suspicious, you know?”

The next words to leave Corpse’s lips sound incredibly smug, “See?” He drawls.  The pressure is getting to you - you don’t understand where this beguiling talent of his to convince literally everyone comes from, but it doesn’t inspire any confidence. Your fist suddenly feels incredibly lonely, so useless - oh, how you long to swing at him, “It’s definitely Y/n.”

“I dunno...” Toast mumbles.

“It’s Y/n.”

“Corpse-” You try, but he's ignoring you - shocker, as if he hadn’t been doing that from the very start of this stupid game - and chanting your name like it’s a fucking mantra or something, a smile in his voice, knowing, relishing in the fact that he’s grating on your nerves, “FIRST OF ALL,” You scream into the mic, successfully cutting him off; catching your breath, you exhale, and continue, calmly, lowly,  “get my pretty name out of your mouth.” 

There’s a pause full of tense silence. 

Then, there’s a sound, seemingly stuck in the back of his throat, “...O-Oh...?”

“Second of all,” You continue, words like honey dipped in arsenic, “This is the clearest smear campaign I have ever witnessed. By how hard you’re trying to frame me for fuck knows what reason, I’m led to believe it’s you that killed them. You’re the Impostor.”

“Corpse wouldn’t kill Sykkuno, though.” Rae comments, skeptical.

“Then the other Impostor did it.” You counter.

“Maybe you’re both Impostors.” Pokimane chirps.

“Y/n would never betray the Big Dick Alliance like that.” Charlie states.

You grin, “Charlie, I literally love you.” 

“Wait hold up now,” Corpse seems to get his bearings together, “what’s this about love I’m hearing?”

“I have none for you, dick.” You snap, flipping him off. Your chat cheers. While he can’t see it, you hope he senses it through the screen, “I officially hate you.”

“No, wait-”

“Boo, Corpse, you suck.” Toast laughs.

“Y/n, please-”

“Let’s all vote for Corpse Husband, okay?” You say it like it’s his full official name with an encouraging smile and multiple soft nods. Sykkuno can’t be here to nod, so you’ll do it for him. You eye the rapidly decreasing timer before clicking on Corpse’s figure and voting for him. The VOTED icon instantly pops up beside your adorable astronaut.

“Baby, I-” It slips past his lips so easily, as if he’s not even thinking about it, like it’s only natural to call you that and a spike of anxiety shoots up, making you glare. It’s only halfhearted. You try your best to ignore the rapid and uncoordinated pulses of your heart. Replace unwanted feelings with anger and hate - works like a charm, every time.

“You are not allowed to call me that.” You hiss. The chat spams snake emojis. 

“Wait-” Bretman chimes, “Hold up, y’all, slow down a minute. Why does Corpse never call me baby?”

“Yeah!” Pokimane agrees, “I want to be baby, too!”

Pokimane may not have been called baby, but you just single-handedly decided her nickname for her - Target 4. Welcome to the shit list, she is officially your public enemy number 1. You aren’t sure why the thought of Corpse ever referring to anyone else as baby makes you sick to your stomach (you actually do know why, but brain no think at the moment), but you wish this whole conversation never happened. You don’t like it.

20 seconds left. More VOTED icons appear by your friends. Corpse is the last one to cast his ballot at, you assume, you, as the rest wait for his quick explanation before everyone (or not) returns to the game, “...Because she’s my baby.”

Goodbye. Life had been sweet, and there was sorrow, though the amount of embarrassment you feel now is worse than when the internet found your cringe worthy high school pictures on your mom’s Facebook. It’s a mixture of dread and excitement - the pleasure of being noticed, cherished even, though anxious from vulnerability. Someone is screaming a very prolonged “WHAAAAT?!”, or maybe multiple people are, you aren’t sure, your ears start to hurt from the loud, conflicting cacophony of voices as you stare blankly at the screen. You received two votes, just like Corpse, Charlie got one, the rest skipped. With no one flung out, you all find yourself back in Cafeteria again.

Baby. My baby? My baby. My baby. The sentence is playing ping-pong in your mind, reverberating louder each time. You’re actually speechless for the first time in your life; your chest hurts, your heart beating so fast your hands start shaking. Had he meant it? Or was this a some joke? Was he trying to get a rise out of you again? You might just go insane from so many questions. My baby. Holy shit, this is a heart attack, this is what a heart attack feels like, dear God, you figured you at least had ten years before you get one!

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✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

First round ends with IMPOSTORS raining victorious. Your sixth sense had been working wonders since, true to you previous estimate, it had been Corpse. His companion was Pokimane. For absolutely no reason what’s so ever, you change her name once more from Target 4 to Target 1. Normally, you’re all for girls supporting girls. Men don’t deserve anything, really, but now you’re so flustered and still reeling from what you are 80% sure was cardiac arrest that you genuinely don’t care about your established morals.

Round two starts without much deliberation. You get CREW MATE again; the game must sense your growing bloodlust, making sure that once you do get IMPOSTOR, you will not hold back. True power is granted to those who are ready and strong enough to wield it. You wait for your moment with bated breath.

Charlie is taken from you too early. The two of you were once again caught in a discussion - God knows about what, Minecraft, hentai, oh! your server! - as you tried to card swipe for the umpteenth time. The lights blew out and you just knew one of you was getting murdered there and then. Charlie’s voice abruptly cut off, and you think a part of you died with him.

It’s a cold meeting; with your new best friend being the first to go, everyone decides to skip. You proclaim you seek vengeance. When the meeting comes to an end, Sykkuno is the first to offer his condolences.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” He says, and while he’s not in Brooklyn, you somehow feel him patting your back. You feign a sniffle.

“There’s nothing to apologize for...” You murmur sadly, “Unless...” Your voice turns sharp as the knife that was surely twisted into Charlie’s back, “It was you?”

“NO!” He exclaims, “I would never-you gotta believe me! I would never kill him. I know he’s important to you. I wouldn’t do that, I swear.”

“He was like a brother to me.” You admit, solemn, “Charlie, if you’re haunting me right now, know I will avenge you. I will not let this go.”

Sykkuno hums, circling around you, “Hey, I have a task in Greenhouse. Would you, uh--Would like to, uhm, join me?” Despite the shaky start, he finishes on a firm, pleasant note. He’s trying to cheer you up. Having lost your closest friend, he’s offering you his company. You accept with a soft smile and a cute “Yes, please!” and he releases an airy little laugh. The two of you make your way to your favorite place in map MIRA.

It’s difficult to stay sad for long when Sykkuno’s so sweet; the atmosphere of the Greenhouse is strangely calming; your problems seem to be left behind the shut doors. If you tried hard enough, you could imagine being in an actual Greenhouse - the warm, damp air clinging to your skin, the unmistakable smell of earth and vegetation, the pleasant silence broken only by yours and his hushed voices and clumsy footsteps.

The two of you are talking. Mainly about your choice of attire. Cat first, Sykkuno ponders aloud, doing his task as you watch the plants grow, now bunny, what’s next? You affirm that you will most likely dress up in cow-print next, or as an adorable sheep. He laughs, admitting you’ll look good in anything before he trails off. His awkwardness is really endearing. 

“Or!” You chirp happily, content with being locked away with him for the whole game. The idea must be playing in his mind, too, because he seems in no rush to leave, “I could, like, dress as someone from My Hero Academia. I watched the stream you did with Stella, the one where she made you look like Todoroki. It was really cute. You were really cute.”

“Oh, uhm-well, uh, thank you, thanks, I, uhm-” He clears his throat, and despite his stutter, you hear the smile in his voice, “I-I think you’d look better, though. Not as Todoroki. Or, probably as Todoroki, too. But, uhm, what character are you thinking about?”

“Maybe Momo?”

“Momo!” He yeps, “Momo is good. Yeah, she’s great. You’ll-uhm-you’ll look amazing. Really. Momo is awesome. Very pretty. Just like you.”

You are blushing. A stupid, toothy grin makes your cheeks hurt. Your eyes flicker to the chat, but again, it’s going wild. Giggling, you thank him for his sweet words, so giddy it’s honestly embarrassing. Why can’t you stop smiling? This is incriminating. You hide your lips behind your palm.

“...What’s this?” Corpse question. You had failed to note his sudden appearance, too busy gushing. “Am I interrupting?”

“Hey, Corpse!” Sykkuno greets. For someone so awkward and shy, he sure is good at hiding it when he wants to. Perhaps it’s all an act and you had been deviously tricked! Probably not, but you can’t help but narrow your eyes suspiciously, finally able to calm down. You definitely underestimated him, you just haven’t figured out how yet, “Not really! Y/n was sad Charlie died so I took her here.”

“You interrupted our date, dipshit.” You deadpan. 

“...Fuck you say?” Corpse dares, his voice low and somewhat menacing - for someone who exclusively portrays his emotions through only his voice, he’s incredibly hard to read. This is payback. Your love for wreaking havoc resurfaces suddenly. Serves him right for pulling all this ignoring shit at the start. Maybe you’ll make him say oh again.

Your sly smirk is promptly wiped. Fuck. He said oh, he literally said oh out loud. The Teruhashi fangirl in you is screaming. You had been so caught up in defending yourself you didn’t even register it at first. Alarmed, you look at the camera, then at the chat. First oh, then my baby. There’s no way he had been teasing you, and this proves it. Holy shit. You mouth the words “HE SAID OH!” for your audience only.

now she notices

snail pace baby we’ve been loosing our shit for the past hour 

corpse x y/n saikik au enemies to lovers 500k words slow burn im here for it

opening wattpad rn^

Your heart races in your chest - it might be considered an Olympic medalist at this point; flustered yet again, you wish you could cave into yourself. You should’ve brought your bright blue wig with you to Brooklyn. Turns out it would have been perfect for this stream. Yes, yes thinking about unnecessary details always works in distracting you from the butterflies throwing a fucking rave in your stomach. 

“I guess it is a date!” Sykkuno admits, “Kinda after a funeral, but still.”

Corpse hums. You’re still too stunned to say anything. The black astronaut with adorable cat ears approaches Sykkuno. 

“It’s not.” He states. Your mouth falls open in shock as your date, your companion, the Shoto to your Momo is murdered in cold blood right in front of you. His lifeless body, cut in half, lays on the tiles by the growing flowers, right beside you, “You didn’t see shit.”

“...I didn’t see shit.” Is all you can utter, breathless and terrified.

“Thaaaat’s fucking right, baby.” Corpse coos, “Now I’m gonna report it, and I’ll say we found Sykkuno together. Better stick close to me after the meeting, got it?”

If Sykkuno is Shoto, then Corpse is definitely Dabi. 

why is that kinda hot tho omg

didn’t know i needed dom corpse since now but i do

y/n looks like shes boutta throw up lmao 

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

You follow him around like a lost puppy - because what else is left for you to do!? You’re helpless in this situation. He’s got you in the palm of his hand, successfully eliminating everyone you had previously interacted with. First it was Charlie, then Sykkuno, even Sean, who said hello in passing, was shot instantly. Real Sangwoo behavior. You almost want to scream warnings at everyone to not approach you. You cannot mourn another lost crew mate, you don’t think your conscience can take it. But words fail to form. You’re too weak. You fake cry to your audience. They’re quick to remind you to stop acting like a little bitch.

“Mean.” Is all you say, eyeing the comments.

“Hm?”

“Was talking to the roaches.”

“What are they saying?”

“That I should betray you.”

“...Better not.”

A shiver shoots up your spine and you half believe he will bust down your door and drag you into his basement for real. A nervous laugh slips past your lips, “I won’t, I won’t.” You reassure him, “Don’t worry, I’m sticking with you. I haven’t seen shit.”

“I like that you listen to me. You always this agreeable?”

“You’re kinda not giving me a choice right now.” You grumble, vending yourself a drink while he looms behind you, protecting you. From who?! Himself?!

“Oh my fucking God, finally,” Bretman exclaims, “girl, I’ve been running around the whole map trynna find someone, is everyone like, dead?”

You’re scared to reply. Corpse does it for you, “Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, maybe? Not sure. Where have you been?”

“Oh you know,” Bretman grins, “doing tasks, talking shit, the usual. You two are not, like, Impostors right?”

You shoot a look at Corpse, but he obviously can’t see it. Biting your lip, you murmur, “Nope.”

“Just your regular crew mates doing regular crew mate things.” Corpse says, no, purrs. Because that’s not suspicious at all. You’d recommend Bretman to run, and not only because that sounded shady as fuck. But he seems to enjoy danger, or he just doesn’t care.

“Hmmmm, crew mates, sure. Miss girl Y/n,” He’s addressing you now; you smile anxiously, “How come every time I see you, you’re with a different man?! Like damn, leave some for the rest of us, for real!”

You like Bretman. You like his high-pitched whine and drawl. You would like him even more if not for the complex situation at hand. You fear for his life. Chewing at your bottom lip, you snicker, “Sorry, Bret. I can leave you Corpse if you want?”

He laughs, “Girl, I’d say yes so fucking quick, but I know he wouldn’t want that. Normally I wouldn’t care, but y’all are such a cute couple it’s making me not want to be a shady motherfucking bitch. Changing my ways, embracing the lord. Love it.”

 Corpse doesn’t correct him that you are, in fact, not dating. His lack of reaction unnerves you slightly. Does he...? No! No think! Only exist! You catch that train of thought and steer it away from forbidden territory. Looks like it’s up to you to clear the air, and that is exactly what you do after trying to swallow down the lump in your throat, “Uh, we’re not together, actually. We’re just really good friends.”

“Bitch, then move over,” Bretman says snappily,”go like, back to your other boyfriends. Or find another one. I think I saw Dream near Navigation.”

“Near Navigation, huh?” Corpse hums thoughtfully. It’s a subtle warning, but you catch it. Yeah, even if you try running, Dream’s going to join your other ‘boyfriends’ in the afterlife. Granted, killing someone by just talking with them is kind of cool. Or maybe Stockholm Syndrome is finally kicking in, “Bret, the thing is, Y/n’s scared of dying, so she asked me to stay with her.”

It’s disturbing how good at lying he is. It is also really really attractive, as bizarre as that is.

y/n stop being in a toxic relationship with corpse challenge

making fanart of this omg her face

its the blushing for me girl get your head outta the gutter!

^she cant, it lives there

“Baby, you’re gonna fucking die if you stick with her,” Bretman points out, “have you noticed the mortality rate of her partners? Rest in peace, daddy.”

“He’s right, you know.” You mutter, dramatically looking to the side, “I’m no good, Corpse.”

“Not leaving you, end of discussion. Bretman, join us?” Corpse offers, catching you by surprise. He might still be lying, though. Creating a false sense of security before eliminating Bretman. Probably would laugh while doing it, too. Wow, he truly is evil.

Turns out he doesn’t have to do any of that, because when Dream strolls into Cafeteria, he kills Bretman instead. The two Impostors are finally revealed. You promised not to snitch on Corpse, but you didn’t say shit about not exposing Dream. You press the REPORT button and say just that: “Dream just murdered Bret right in front of me and Corpse.”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

The last meeting is called. Dream had been voted out with the help of Corpse, and now only you, he, and Rae remain.

“Baby, you know what to do.”

The VOTED icon pops up beside Corpse’s astronaut. Rae wheezes, “No! Y/n, it’s not me, you gotta believe me, I swear it’s not me!”

“...I really don’t know,” You murmur, “I’ve been with Corpse a lot, and...Rae, I’m not sure...”

“Please! I swear it on my Kagayama cardboard cut out, I’m not the Impostor, please! You know me, I’d never lie to you like this.”

“She’s definitely lying.” Corpse says, sounding pleased.

“Don’t listen to him! Remember, during the first round, when he tried to convince us that you were the Impostor? He’s doing the same shit to me!”

“I also remember you agreeing with him.” You remind her.

“I was stupid! Small dumb brain moment! He was using us to win! He’s using you right now!” She votes, “Please, Y/n, make the right choice.”

You’re silent for a moment.

“I’m gonna...I’m gonna vote for who I think it is.” You lastly say.

A slow, lazy grin makes it’s way onto your lips, eyes gleaming mischievously. You had not forgotten your promise to your brother from another mother, you had not forgotten the pride of the BDA, you had not forgotten your beautiful friendship. Two miniature astronauts pop up by Corpse’s at the exact moment Rae screeches “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!”

“Fuck.” Is all Corpse says with a laugh.

The screen changes, informing of the first CREW MATE victory.

Your ears are assaulted with different voices as you appear in the lobby.

“Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about.” Charlie raves, “I swear to fucking God, Y/n, you even got me going for a second. Pulled some 1000 IQ shit right there. It was fucking amazing. Best back stabbing I’ve seen in a while, and I’ve seen a lot.”

“That was absolutely fantastic, Y/n.” Sean applauds, “I really thought you joined Corpse like some crew mate accomplice or something. Can’t believe you switched on him at the last second.”

“That’s my wifey!” Rae cheers, strolling to you, “Love you, mwah.”

“Hey, Corpse,” Charlie calls him, “How does it feel to be a fucking loser?”

“I’m surprisingly fine with it.”

yeah he would be lmao

mom is the best snake ever i love you sm y/n

rae and y/n’s friendship....the feeeeeels

As the rest sing your praises for another solid minute or two, the third round begins. CREW MATE again. Though, just because you’re stuck as an underpaid worker in a dying spaceship, it doesn’t mean you’re innocent. Your last round proved that quite well. You can’t help but silently snicker.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury--moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[hiddens-eden]

The Last Tune (Emmett Cullen x Male!Reader) Pt 1

Paring; Emmett Cullen x Male Reader + Cullen Family x Male Reader (PLATONIC)

Warning: Cursing, Abuse, Tramua, Angst

Pronouns; He/Him

Spelling checked; No

Summary; Y/N is a quiet boy that's had his fair share of physical and emotional trauma, so he loves to keep to himself. He barely interacts with anyone unless needed and prefers to listen to music and sketch in peace. So imagine his surprise when some of the most popular kids in school want to be around him! They heard him singing along with his music and were immediately entranced. One of them in particular has his eyes set on him. Though, they are not the only ones who have an interest in Y/N.

A/N; Hello, my little Otaku's! Welcome to my first fic! I hope you enjoy, and feedback is always appreciated! Just be kind! I'm sorry if it seems at all rushed! On my next stories I do plan on switching PoV's so it'll be easier to write and more entertaining. Enjoy!

"Who are they?"a dark haired girl asked her friend that was sitting just across from their lunch table

"Those are some of the most popular people in school, the Cullen's. Not only are they hot as hell, but they're charming to boot! They do disappear for long periods of time, which gives them an air of mystery."

At the Cullen's table, they softly chuckled at the description the new girl was given. After all, it's only natural considering what they are. They are a being talked about in many fantasy tales. Known for their taste for blood. Vampires, a creature of the night that feasts on humans. However, they in particular don't drink human blood

They went back to softly talking to each other, but a few minutes later something caught their attention. A soft voice echoed in their eardrums. It was enchanting and beautiful, it was like nothing they've ever heard of. They all simultaneously started looking around for the source of the pleasant sound when the new girl asked about someone else.

"Who is that?" she asked, pointing to a table where a boy sat by himself

"Oh! That's (Y/N), (L/N)! He doesn't talk much, but when he does, you can't help but feel so tranquil and at peace!"

That caught the vampire's attention, and they whipped their heads to where the brunette was pointing. Noticing that that was where the sound is coming from.

"What do you mean?"

"His voice is so soft, like silk! But it has a sort of firmness to it! That's not the only thing, though. He is so kind, adorable, and smart as well! He even helps who ask for him to tutor them. His personality makes everyone want to be around him!"

That rose some questions in the vampires heads. If he is that well-liked, why is no one sitting near him?

"Then why is he alone?"

~The vampires will have to thank the new girl for asking so many questions~

"Well, whenever people come near him, he gets anxious and tries to get away as soon as possible. Someone grabbed him on accident, and he started having a panic attack, falling to the ground, and hyperventilating."

The Cullen's were a little shocked when they heard this. That wasn't normal for sure

"Holy shit. Was he okay?"

"Yeah, he was sent home early. But, some students saw his face as he was leaving and said that he looked terrified. We think something is going on where he lives, though we can't know for sure" she shrugged

"Once he came to school the next day, he was wearing long-sleeves. I thought it was weird considering he never wore them before, but the rest of the school shrugged it off as it being in the winter months making it reasonable. The person apologized the next day and (Y/N) just said it was fine, and he just likes being alone, so now that's what we do"

Right when the girl finished, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Making everyone get up and start to throw away their trash and head to class. All except one person...

"I don't think he heard the bell" Emmett said

"Gee, none of us would've guessed!" Rosalie responded, causing the other Cullen's to chuckle

Suddenly, Jasper's sight shifted to his wife Alice because he felt her stiffening up, a tell-tale sign of her power activating. The other vampires looked at her as well, waiting for her to relay what she saw. After a little bit she came to and, slowly, turned to Emmett grinning

"Emmett, why don't you go over and tell him class is about to start? Maybe even ask him to tutor you! We all know you need it." she remarked, still grinning

Starting to understand why she was acting like the way she was, Emmett sighed, wanting to protest, but he knew Alice's visions almost always came true, or they would end at the same conclusion.

He made his way over to where the boy was sitting

"Remember not to grab him!" Alice semi-shouted from where she was standing

Emmett waved her off, still approaching (Y/N)

He gently tapped (Y/N)'s shoulder, making the smaller boy jump in surprise and what Emmett can only assume is fear

(Y/N) turned his head around fast enough to give him whiplash and that's when he met the golden eyes of the person that startled him

He took his earbud out before speaking, "I-Is there s-something I can do for you?" (Y/N) asked shakily

Emmett stood there for a moment. He had never seen someone so hot and cute at the same time. The girl was right, too. His voice is the embodiment of angelic. Emmett took this chance to take in all the boys features, from his soft (S/C) skin that reflected the light of the cafeteria. To his intoxicating (E/C) eyes that he could get lost in over and over again. Emmett felt a small pull to (Y/N), and he knew exactly what it meant.

“H-hello? Are you alright?” (Y/N) asked

“I-I um…class is about to start…”

(Y/N) looked at the time and blushed

“So it is…” (Y/N) stood up and started collecting his things “T-thanks for letting me know” (Y/N) stood to leave but was stopped as Emmett stood in front of him

“I was wondering if you could help me study for chemistry? I’m currently failing” Emmett chuckled, rubbing the back of his head

"I-I don't mind, where should we meet?"

"How about the Library after school?"

(Y/N) smiled the slightest bit "Sounds good, now if you don't mind I need to get to class" and with that (Y/N) left the cafeteria heading to his next class. Emmett slowly rejoined his family, still in awe from the recent interaction.

Jasper grinned from the emotions Emmett was emulating

"It seems Emmett is very interested in that guy"

"Hell yeah I am! Did you see him?!"

"We did" Edward answered him, "But"

"But what?" Emmett asked

"I can't read his mind, same with the new girl"

"Does that mean they're a supernatural?" Rosalie asked

"No, they aren't. The new girl is a weird case, but (Y/N) seems to just have fantastic mental walls and barriers. Which is concerning..."

"Then I'll have to break them" Emmett smirked

The rest of the Cullen's let out a collective sigh as they made their way to their respective classes. Still wondering what was going on with the mysterious (Y/N).

The final bell rang, indicating the end of the school day. Students started to funnel out of their classes and into the hallways. Emmett was waiting outside (Y/N)'s classroom, ready to head to the library.

After waiting awhile of waiting, (Y/N) came out of the classroom books and binder in hand

"Hey"

(Y/N) jumped and turned around to see Emmett, a look of relief claimed his face

"You ready to go?"

"Y-yeah"

As they made their way to the library, they made some just talked about their interests and things of that nature, eventually arriving at their destination. After they settled in their seats with the necessary books, they started the study session.

Emmett found it cute, they way (Y/N) would nervously try and help him understand the complex formula's and equations. After a few explanations, (Y/N) sat down and started to work on his homework. Unconsciously, (Y/N) started to sing to himself, making Emmett perk up and look at him.

"You're a good singer"

(Y/N) blushed, "Thanks...but others don't think so..."

"Are you kidding me?!" Emmett stood up, causing (Y/N) to jump a little, "Your voice is amazing!"

(Y/N) blushed at the praise he was given. He'd never been complimented before, so this was new to him.

"Thank you" (Y/N) smiled, making Emmett's cold and dead heart swell with something he's never felt before

"N-no problem" Emmett said before sitting down, and starting to work again, still thinking of that cute-ass smile

Soon, the sun started to set and that was their cue to wrap things up.

"Could you tutor me again tomorrow? If you're free, that is" Emmett asked

"Sure, I should be open. Meet here after school?"

"Deal"

"Then I'll see you tomorrow" (Y/N) smiled at Emmett before walking to his place

To say Emmett was giddy is an understatement. He was over the moon. Not only did he get to be tutored by his adorable mate, but he also got him to open up and be more relaxed around him! He made his way back to his own house and entered with his head still stuck in the clouds. Unaware of the fact that the whole family was sitting in the living room

"It seems that Emmett had an amazing time" Jasper couldn't help but let out his own smile from Emmett's emotions

"Something good happen, Emmett?" Carlisle asked, intrigued by Jasper's comment

"I think he's the one"

"The One?" Esme questioned

Alice snickered, clearly happy that her vision seemed to have came true

"My mate" Emmett replied, still thinking about the fun time he had studying with (Y/N)

"Congrats!! But, make sure you claim him before anyone else!" Esme explained

"He's not an object, Esme" Carlisle chastised

"I know, but humans may not understand their feelings"

"I just have to take things slow. I don't want to scare him off"

~Next Day at School~

"Hey (Y/N)!"

"Hmm? Oh, hey Emmett!" (Y/N) smiled sweetly

As Emmett got closer to (Y/N) he noticed a very distinct smell coming from the boy. "(Y/N) are you alright?" he asked concern lacing his voice

(Y/N) visibly tensed and started to shake slightly. "U-um ye-yeah? I'm f-fine"

Emmett was less than convinced. He needed to know who or what hurt his mate, so he could end it's pitiful existence, then and there. Though, he decided not to add anymore fuel to the fire...yet.

"If you say so. We should head to to class"

"Yeah"

"Are we still on for tonight?"

"If you still want to, then yes" (Y/N) smiled at Emmett causing him to absolutely gush at his adorableness

"Yep! Totally!" (Y/N) chuckled at Emmett's response

While heading to class they just talked about whatever was on their minds. Well, mostly Emmett since (Y/N) is a closed off little bean <3. But, that didn't stop either of them from enjoying themselves. Even once they where in class they softly whispered to each other. Their teacher didn't care much because (Y/N) is a model student and Emmett is a popular kid (you know those teachers that try and get in with the cool kids? Yeah, that's their teacher). When they went their seperate way's for their second block (Y/N) though that was it, like all of the other people he's tutored. He just thought Emmett was being kind and he'd see him after school for their study session. But he was proven wrong at lunchtime.

(Y/N) was eating by himself at a table listening to music and singing along softly when he felt vibrations coming from next to him. He looked over to not only see Emmett, but the whole Cullen entourage in tow. He was shocked to say the very least.

"Can we sit here?"

Collecting himself he responded with a soft "Yeah". The Cullen's then sat down, Emmett sitting on your right and Alice on your left. She squealed and looked twoards you "I've wanted to actually talk to you for a while now! Emmett talks about you and your singing too! I hope I can hear you one day!" This, this was how (Y/N).exe has stopped working. You where an embarassed blushing mess while looking at Emmett in mock betrayal. 'He talks about me?' you thought. He just smirked enjoying your cuteness.

"Ahh!!! He's soo adorable!!" Now you were a even darker red. Only provoking Alice more as she got slightly closer to you. You were about to curl in on yourself when you felt that you were being griped by the waist and pulled into a solid chest.

"Alice, your going to make him explode" Emmett said slightly, just slightly defensive

She laughed "My my what about you then?"

"What do you mean?"

"Look down, bonehead" Rosalie butted in amused

Emmett did what she said and saw you an absolute wreck. If a cherry was a person it would be you at this point-

Now he was trying to compose himself. The sight of both of you made everyone at the table start chuckling. After that whole fiasco you got to know Emmett's family and started to enjoy their presence. Something you never really had the pleasure of experiencing...

Over the next few weeks, Emmett did everything he could to be even remotely close to (Y/N). They would do studying sessions at the library, and after they would get something to eat. Well, only (Y/N) did. He thought it was weird Emmett never ate anything, but Emmett assured (Y/N) that he was eating well. They would often go to parks and just have fun too. However, all fun things come to an end. When one day (Y/N) didn't show up to school. Emmett just thought (Y/N) got a cold, but soon days turned to weeks and he was getting worried. He didn't know where (Y/N) lived so he couldn't go to his house and see if he was alright, but one day Carlise came home a little later than usual which was not unnoticed by his family.

"You're back late" Esme commented

"Well there is a teenager in critical condition. He came in with severe lacerations all over his body and what seemed to be marks of repeated tramua as well. He came in a couple of weeks ago and was in a coma until he flatlined earlier this morning" Carlise took off his doctor coat and placed it on the chair making his way to Esme. As he stood next to her he looked over to see his "children" with wide eyes

"Is something wrong?" Carlise asked a bit worried

"When did that patient come into the hospital?" Emmett asked urgently

"(Date). Why?"

With that all of the vampires stood up and started to get ready to go to the hospital

"What's wrong? Where are you guys going?" Esme asked

"That's most likely my mate" Emmett replied, making it clear he was irritated

"Well then what are we waiting for?" Esme rushed everyone out the door and to the hospital

At the hospital, they made their way to the room (Y/N) was at. Once there, Carlisle motioned for Emmett to enter first. Emmett went in and was shocked by what he saw. (Y/N) had many tubes attached to him. His body was wrapped in bandages and his breathing was hitching. Emmett walked over to the resting (Y/N) and reached out for his hand, grasping it softly. He rubbed his thumb over the boy's knuckles in a reassuring manner, then sat down next to the bed, still holding (Y/N)'s hand. He could only think about how much he failed his mate. How could he let this happen? He knew there was something going on, but he did nothing? He turned a blind eye to it all. How can he face (Y/N) when he wakes up? Emmett's thoughts were interrupted by someone's voice

"Who are you?"

"I should be asking you that" Emmett replied

"I'm (Y/N)'s boyfriend"

With that, Emmett's world stopped. Boyfriend? How? Why? Was I to late? Emmett turned to (Y/N) conflicted, but that's when he saw the heart monitor. His heart rate was not that high a while ago.

"Can you leave me with my boyfriend?" (B/F/N) asked harshly

Emmett reluctantly stood up and made his way to the door, but not before taking one last look at (Y/N). Once he was out of the room, Emmett started walking down the hallway back to his family.

"Who was that guy that went in there?" Rosalie went up to Emmett

"Apparently, he's (Y/N)'s boyfriend"

The Cullen's looked at Emmett in sadness and pity, but they noticed something

"You don't seem that bothered about it" Jasper said

"Well, before he came in, (Y/N)'s heart rate was normal, but when he spoke his heart rate rose"

"So, you think-"

"Yeah, his 'boyfriend' must've done that to him"

"That's awful" Esme covered her mouth in shock

"We can't really do anything if we don't have proof though" Alice said irritated

"Then we'll just have to get some" Emmett smirked, making the other Cullen's nod

They made their plan's and put them on hold until you were sent home. In the meantime, Emmett came to visit whenever your 'boyfriend' was never there and if he was, Carlisle was keeping a closer eye on you than normal. He also noticed that (B/F/N) would only ever sit in the chair across the room and when he would glance at you a look of disgust would be present on his face. This further solidified his resolve to get you out of that situation.

~A few days later while Emmett is visiting you~

"We're going to help you (Y/N), Everything will be better soon" Emmett reassured the sleeping male whilst holding his hand. He then felt (Y/N) clench his hand and looked up to see those beautiful (E/C) orbs opening

"Em-"

"Shh, don't strain yourself yet" Emmett stood up and pressed the 'call' button just above (Y/N)'s head before sitting back down

"Where-"

"The hospital...can you tell me what happened to you?"

After a brief pause, (Y/N) shook his ever so slightly

"That's fine, just tell me when you're ready" Emmett smiled sweetly. He saw (Y/N)'s face contort into sadness as he started crying. "I-I'm sorry f-for worrying you" (Y/N) choked out between sobs. Emmett couldn't see him cry like this, so he started to comfort and reassure the other male. "You'll be okay...I won't let you get hurt anymore..."

A/N: I really hope you liked it! Please tell me your thoughts! Sorry it took way longer than I said! I will now be working on the requests I have gotten and a new series I've conjured up ;)By my little Otaku's!!

[mxvladdy]

HI I LOVE YOUR WRITING! aaa sO I don't know if you still accept prompts but if you do could you do one with MC being fascinated by the brothers' demon forms and seeing the brothers react to them carefully inspecting their horns/wings/tails??

AHHHHH I love that you love it! And of course! :) Horns are my weak spot lmao. Hope you like!

Lucifer

Hmph. Isn’t ecstatic about you wanting to nose around in his business at first. No matter how touched starved he is, just the thought of your tiny human fingers exploring him…Well on the other hand-

At first, he thought you had some weird fetish for his demonic form. Wouldn’t be the first time a human had. But slowly he realizes you are genuinely just enamored with him. It strokes his ego sky high.

He loves it when you stroke and pet his horns. The bases of which are super sensitive. The amount of time you have spent just looking at the gold-tipped bone, he is certain you probably have memorized the number of chips and notches in them.

You start bringing ornaments and tassels for his horns. Things you made or found pretty when out shopping. He doesn’t wear them in public but likes it when you put them on him in private.

It takes him longer to let you get your hands on his wings though. Looking at the mess of his back isn’t pleasant for him.

He has a dust bath. He loves dusting, and when you help him. Ugh-it’s like his own little paradise.

He teaches you how to preen and find broken feathers to pluck. Your cooing over his soft feathers just makes him fluff up more.

He shows off his horns and wings just a touch more in public now.

Mammon

Hells yeah you can see his demon form. Why wouldn’t you want to? He is absolutely delighted to have you lovin’ all over him. He’s big on scenting.

He is especially proud of his wings, in all his forms. Leathery or feathery, they are his favorite part of his body. They are strong, reliable, and fast if he needs to protect you.

He makes sure you are extra careful about his horns though. The spirling columns of bone aren’t smooth like Lucifer’s and have a wicked sharp point on the tips. His horns grow a lot faster than his brothers. A lot of his horn upkeep is him shaving them down and oiling them.

You take delight in doing that for him. The keratin of his horns flakes quickly so you like to help with that too.

He doesn’t have much feeling around his horn area so you won’t get too many reactions from him. Now his wings~

He gets a kick out of watching you open and close his wings. You are mesmerized by his leather wings stretching to their full wingspan.

His wings look fragile upon closer inspection. You can feel the beats of his hearts through the thin membrane stretched over black bones. It almost makes you forget that you’ve seen him bludgeon demons to death with them before.

You’re so enamored with his wings you miss how flustered he gets when you trace your fingers around the base of his wings. Right where the limbs attach to his back. It’s a very tender spot that hurts most times when he touches it, but maybe because it’s you it feels really good.

Leviathan

He is apprehensive to have you inspect him at first.

Doesn’t have wings and is kinda jelly. But he has a bitchin’ tail, and you remind him often of it.

His tail is strong. A lot stronger than you originally thought. You can feel the slide and pull of thick muscle underneath his leathery skin when he swifts around.

It took you a while to get him to understand you are 1000% ok with his tail and horns being out, in public or private.

He notices that you can't keep your eyes and hands off his tail. While he never does it in front of his brothers he loves to pick you up with it. Your giggles and gasps of awe, while you dangle above him in his secure grasp, brings a huge smile to his face.

He has the most strenuous care routine out of all the brothers. His tail sheds a lot and dries out easily. It is usually a very intimate affair. Lucky for you, he likes you.

He shows you how to use his dry brush to sluff off the dead skin from his tail and scaly parts of his back. It's therapeutic to him. He talks about his newest hyper fixation while you brush and pet his tail.

His horns are a bit more persnickety. They are made up of a delicate ecosystem of coral and sea vegetation. It’s a beautiful vivid array of purple, pink, and blues. Henry and schools of smaller fish make little homes in it when Levi is in his tank.

It has to be kept moist and landscaped or it gets overgrown. He has a knack for aquatic horticulture and gives you a chance to learn too.

It naturally changes size and color based on the Devildom seasons. Your favorite displays are during the warmer seasons.

You buy little tank ornaments to decorate his horns to post on devilgram from time to time. It gets so many likes he gets so excited.

He wears your work proudly, even if it’s not up to his usual standard. His water monster brethren are jealous of the attention, and that’s what matters most.

Satan

If you bring up your interest in a scientific or educational manner, he is more willing to share. He has had far too many run-ins with witches and humans vying for him to be comfortable flaunting his demon form.

As the only born devil out of the group you have to be extra careful with his horns and tail. The bony structure of them is like fine sandpaper. Rough, course and far too abrasive for your tinder human skin.

You have to wear gloves when handling his horns and tail. He apologizes a lot about it. It angers him that he is the one brother that has to be so careful around you.

You really don’t mind though. Even through the thick leather gloves you feel the pulsing heat of his magic. You like the tingling feeling of his magic through your gloves, it’s like licking a battery.

He doesn’t need maintenance on his horns and tail as much as the others. But his horns do fall off like deer antlers.

He gets really irritated when it’s shedding season. The itching and throbbing of his horns when they are ready to fall off is maddening.

You always know when it is horn season due to the deep gouges in the stone walls around the house. You help him though this by scratching around the bases of his horns. It feels so good to have it scratched, and it’s 10x better when it’s not him.

Normally he would just dispose of his horns when they fall off or use them for alchemical purposes. Now, he gives some of them to you. You collect them and have turned a few sets into some lovely pieces of art in his opinion.

Asmodeus

Very much like Mammon- who wouldn’t love his horns and wings? He loves them, so obviously everybody should.

Absolutely eats up your praise and curious touches. He shows you the best places to pet or stroke.

His wings are leathery like Mammons but 1000x more sensitive all-round. He can sense air currents with them, so sneaking up on him to touch a wing is out of the question. As much as you would like to.

Loves see you try though. Will fake being surprised when you come at him from behind to lovingly touch a wing.

He shows you the best places to touch and examine his wings and horns. His smaller set of wings have this one spot underneath their pit that is super ticklish. When you find it, exploit it. He has the best laugh.

He admits to you that he dyes his horns. What can he say? Pink is the best color and his horns just look that much more fabulous in it.

You can convince him to try different colors, but only if you help him dye them. Starts matching colors and outfits with you and his horn color of the month.

His cleaning and maintenance routine he likes to do himself. Sorry! Nothing against you, but he is too meticulous to ask for help. But please stay and watch!

He shows off a lot more when cleaning and moisturizing his horns and wings. Stretching them out, or making sure his horns are shiny enough to catch the light of his room.

Absolutely soaks up for enamored gasps and wide eyes stares.

Beelzebub

Just shrugs when you ask to see his wings and horns.

Of course, he doesn't mind you touching them. He just finds it odd. Kinda forgot that it's not a normal occurrence in the human realm.

He has no issues with you touching or rubbing on his horns. He doesn't have any feeling in them anyway.

But, unfortunately, you can only look at his wings. The cuticle is very fragile so he can't just flare his wings out whenever he feels like the others.

You find the hard casing that protects his wings just as fascinating though. The iridescent sheen of it is mesmerizing. Your eyes can't pick up all the colors that it gleams, but it's still beautiful regardless.

You have a hard time getting any of the shell bits when they shed. Beel normally eats them and he is much faster than you.

But he will temper himself and save a few for you once he figures out why you are pouting.

His paper-thin shell casing resembles stained glass when you hold it up to the light. You have taken to making a large wind chime out of the shedding of the brother's horns and wings. His chitin is the perfect addition to give the slightly macabre piece some color.

He-and the other brothers find it kinda odd that you collect essentially garbage to them, but they chalk it up to a weird human quirk.

If it makes you happy-*shrugs*

Belphegor

Like his twin, doesn’t get the hype around it. But, if it means you’ll be spending more time with him then he won’t complain.

You pet his tail a lot when he is sleeping. His tail is soft and fluffy. It wraps around you while he slumbers, locking you in place by his side.

He wakes you up by tickling your nose with the tuft of his tail. He teases you when it makes you sneeze.

If you thought his bedhead was bad, wait till you see him struggling with the tangles at the tip of his tail.

You offer to help comb it out. Maybe even convince him to invest in a good bottle of conditioner. He takes you along to buy it and lets you choose the scent.

He has a penchant for cucumber and melon scents when it comes to his detergent and pillow sprays so you keep to that realm.

He cannot express how much he doesn’t care about upkeep so if you want to brush his tail and examine his horns go to town, means he doesn’t have to do it.

Belphie gets addicted quickly to you doting on his form. He sleeps harder and better after a session with you brushing his tail or rubbing at his horns.

You’ve learned just how to massage his scalp and where to scratch around his horns to help him fall asleep. He doesn't realize he does it himself as a self-soothing mechanism until you bring it up one night.

When you hit the sweet spots at the base of his tail or horns he can’t control the twitching and movements of his tail.

[kthynes]

if you really want it

pairing: chris evans x fem!reader

summary: you’re having a fun night out of town when you catch the eye of chris evans who decides to have his way with you

warnings: nsfw 18+, MINORS DNI !!! — smut, oral (male receiving), fingering, bit of spanking, unprotected sex, dub con, course language. Pure adulterated filth.

a/n: this is a reworked excerpt from a standalone piece that I did awhile back and dug up for the cause. I don't do a lot of smut writing (more of a smut reader) so I'm a bit rusty. Hopefully I did some justice here.

shoutout to @ysmmsy for the request — this one is "all for you"

-:-

You didn't know Chris Evans like that yet here you were ready to christen a grimy single loft bathroom at some nouveau club in downtown L.A. I guess it's like they say, some opportunities are meant to be grabbed the balls and that's exactly what you were sure fire in doing.

"You're taking my cock so well baby." Chris rasps while your head bobs in and out, taking to the size of his immeasurable and veiny girth while thrumming to the musical musings of good ol'e Janet Jackson. She's the one to blame for your decrepitude. Her sex jams, 6 wholesome Fireball shots and three wise men later, you're rendered guileless. It serves you right because there's no other man you'd rest your bare knees in prayer than for him.

He's delicious. Devilishly good at slowly face fucking you with care, precision and apathy. It's sickly because he looks at you, calls you kitten and doesn't stop you while gently bracing your jaw in his hands. You're a sight under better lighting that Chris can't help but watch you, watch him.

It's a slow tantalizing run that you savour because your head game is top of the line. You enjoy this aspect the most; it's a favourable task that you ease into first and foremost. It's a heartfelt shame that his buddy Henry Cavill missed out his chance. He left just minutes ago after you and Chris ponied off for some undisturbed coital tryst.

You're swirling your tongue around the fullness of his shaft while feeling the softness of his balls that grow stiff in your touch.

"Fuck baby you're going to be the death of me." He leans back while seated on the closed toilet seat. You run your manicured nails up and down his thick, hair lined thighs and instinctively graze your incisors along his manhood, testing the waters and causing him to sharply intake a breath of air. You repeatedly drag your teeth over his sensitive skin all the up to the frenulum where Chris then let's out a disgruntled moan.

"Shiiiiit. I'm almost there doll — don't stop." Making a grown man shed some resenting tears was definitely a sought out moment. His breathing gets laboured as you suction your lips, easing your jaw to satiate his high. He's close and seconds later he comes warmly undone.

"That's it, drink me up, kitten." He pants and you do so with no hesitation as he mills his seed into the depths of your oral cavity. "So good, so fucking beautiful."

After finding the means, you pull away to swish and swallow his aqueous mixed semen. It comes as a pleasant surprise that he tastes like musk and nearly nothing which is far better than the usual tang of battery acid and body odour that you've been forcible accustomed to.

As he beautifully relinquishes from his release, you go back to keeping his cock fixated and warm in your mouth before he decides to reroute your lips against his.

"C'mere pretty girl." He coaxes you, broad hand grabbing the back of your neck and bringing your balmy face close to his. You mewl and moan against the crown of his lips as your bare ass juts up in the air, feeling a needy breeze and a tightness in your cunt.

He kisses with inconsequential rigour but there's no one else waiting for this moment except for the two of you. Chris's one hand kneads and smacks your ass, letting you cry into the kiss. He does this a couple more times, loving and fiendishly emancipating your reaction. 

"That's for being exceptionally talented with that mouth of yours." He insinuates while showing up for his possessiveness that reaches your dripping core.

Past the four walls, the club is still chorusing some mayhem while you were about to experience some euphoric sex making magic yourself.

The kissing becomes a gauntlet of fast moving actions and before you know it Chris has you propped up on his lap, thong off with your bare sex just brushing the underside of his manhood that stood tall at full mast and against his lower belly.

"Tell me what you want baby." You don't say much until his finger finds you pert clit and give it nice genie rub. You gasp, kissing becomes a halting struggle as Chris stimulates your nether region, reciprocating the same haughtiness he got from you.

"I want your fingers in me." You moan each word and he distracts you with kisses as his appendages scissor in between your folds a bit manically. His fingers are running through your slippery slope and moments later two fingers plunge into the cavernous depths of your honeypot, feeling all the ridges and soft velvety muscle. Chris's cock twitches at the feeling of your insides spasmodically wrapping around his digits. He's nearly percolating with excitement as he picks up the speed.

"Oh fuck." You curse as your chest heaves rapidly. There's a burning and pleasurable sensation that has you writhing against his hand. "Chris."

"Yes honey?" He whispers in your ear while driving the wedge of his fingers up to hit the spongy part of your inside, grazing it and having you inwardly coil up. Your vision gets hazy as he's doing you in with just the rotation of his sodden fingers.

"Keep going." You mewl. "Harder, fuck me harder."

The sounds and the feeling grows sloppy as he curls his fingers in you, digging for your release before pulling out his hand out of your sex and then going in for his own chase.

"What the—" before you could utter another word, his arousal covered fingers were shoved in your mouth while his cock hammered right into you, filling you up with ease and stretching you out beautifully.

"Sorry baby I couldn't help myself." Chris grunts as you're being mercilessly fucked.

"Mmmm." You tremor and mumble, tasting yourself on his fingers as he clamps his thighs and gyrates his cock into you. It's with subserviency that you do your part by holding yourself up against the cold septic tank behind him.

"God you're so fucking tight and all for me." Chris continues his string of thought. It becomes a spitfire game of who can cum first at this point. Longing for a release, your bodies don't put out yet so you get crafty and switch up the angle, one that's pretty much optimal for your selfish need. But could benefit Chris if he played his cards right.

In the moments to come, Chris watches you acrobatically place a leg over his right shoulder which eases his thrusts for your adjustment. He's riddled with a better idea and just as you're about to pick up, Chris picks you up while still seated in you, wraps one leg around his waist while the other is on firmly planted on his shoulder. He has you distracted with his heavily drawn out kisses that slurs your already drunken state. He carries you over and pins you against the door before jackhammering away in a position that gets you both moaning loudly.

"Oh!" You breathily pitch in tune with his guttural groans.

"That's it's, just like that. God you're so fucking sexy." Chris recites, kissing you some more and then burying himself deep to get the point across.

Your insides pulsate, trying to rock out an orgasm which comes after a few hardened thrusts. "Fuck I’m about to cum.”

“Let it out for me sweet girl, just cover me in cum.”

Chris still holds up while trying to find his release. After four soused, lazy strokes he cums in you, all hot and frothy. It’s apparent that he loves the internal feeling of you, so after a few longed, sloppy kisses you let him slip out of your weeping hole. The mix of bodily fluids drip out of you and with the sink nearby you both find the decency to help clean each other up. You pull down your mini dress, not bothering with your soiled underwear while he wordlessly does up his jeans.

The aftermath isn't awkward at all. As a matter of fact you both find yourselves getting slightly shy and giggly about the ordeal and partly because of your drunken stupor. You were sneaking glances and being reminiscent of being fuck-spent on a Friday night. And that’s how it’ll be recalled for another time.

Two complete strangers. One a known and worldly accomplice. It's surreal.

As you both part your ways, no numbers were exchanged but the night becomes a figment of your memory that'll forever be imprinted over time.