short kanade angst i wont expand on rn
uh tw ig for implied death
its just kanade + mentioned mizuki at the end
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It hurts.
Every breath is a conscious effort, every heartbeat seems slower than the last.
She’s not entirely sure how long it’s been.
Warm light from the late afternoon bleeds through parted curtains, cascading around her like the hair that spills out, framing her quiet form. She blinks, slowly, painstakingly so, chapped lips close, before she opens them again, swallowing thickly.
Eventually, she starts singing, her voice is quiet, far too quiet, weaker than it has ever been. It takes a while, but the melody slips through the fog in her mind.
Kanadetomosusora.
If she could, Kanade thinks she would be crying, but she doesn't have the strength nor the will, she has nothing but herself, and all she is now is a shell, a painful echo and a bitter memory.
Even so, as her voice drifts through the room littered in music, she wonders what could have been. Her eyes slide over to the door, thin fingers scratch at her floor, trying to curl into a fist, trying to do something, be something other than a skeleton that tried so hard to crawl out of a closet she made for herself.
The last few notes finally leave her throat, and then she chokes on the ghost of another song that beckons her. This one’s name comes easier.
Saisei, reborn. something she might never be, something she maybe doesn't deserve.
Would she be better in another life? Less harmful, less.. her?
She makes it past the second verse, before quiet steps draw her attention over.
Kanade sees two shoes at the door.
Oh, she thinks, Mizuki must be home.
That's unfortunate. Her mind supplies as eyelids slip shut.
She breathes out a sorrowful apology to her own deaf ears as time finally eats her whole.
This started as a thought exercise about how advanced androids could help in home medical care and turned into this.
Content warnings: References to PTSD, mild depiction of panic attacks and nightmares
Word count: 1400+
Google IRL.
The revolutionary product, designed to make your life so much easier. With dozens of customizable programming options, they could do most anything you needed. They were even used in applications previously reserved for service animals. Guiding the visually impaired, monitoring vitals to predict a seizure, performing household tasks that proved difficult for a person. They really were amazing things, feats of modern programming.
And now you had one. At the recommendation of your care team, you finally got your own Google IRL. The doctors made the suggestion because an android would be more beneficial to aid your recovery than a service dog.
Please read instructions completely before operating your Google IRL device.
The booklet went over all the basics of owning and operating your Google android, including basic setup, commands, limitations, maintenance, and troubleshooting. With a hesitant breath, you started the android up. His eyes opened and looked around the room quickly before settling on your face.
"Good afternoon, I am your Google IRL android. For your convenience I have been preloaded with several protocols and programs to assist with daily life. Would you like me to go over them now?"
"Please do," you responded quietly.
"I have been preloaded with protocols for several household tasks, such as cleaning, food preparation, and household maintenance. I have standard functionality to perform first aid and reach out to emergency services if needed. My primary objective is to assist with daily activities and answer questions as quickly and efficiently as possible. Does this explanation suffice?"
"Yes, Google. Let's begin with the initial setup."
It took a while to get all the basic setup out of the way and let Google connect to the servers to update. You made sure the list of protocols the doctors had listed for you were installed and functional. It was strange at first, having a robot that seemed so human milling about in your home, but after a few days you found a sort of balance. You hadn't done much beyond the included tests with the additional protocols, hoping that when they were needed he would be able to do them properly.
For the first few weeks he was mostly making use of his basic protocols, doing tasks around the house and keeping track of appointments. He would go out with you on errands, which made the whole thing so much easier. When you had trouble speaking, he was your voice. When you didn't have the energy to take care of yourself, he was there. It was the simple act of him existing with you, the promise of him being there in a bad situation that made the initial awkwardness worth it. He was usually quiet, but had seemed to develop a personality as time went on. You had asked him once if he wanted you to call him something other than Google, but he had nonchalantly told you that you could call him whatever you pleased, and he would register it to his memory. You decided to think on it another time.
~
Oh no, not this nightmare again. You were haunted with the memories of the past, the things you had been through. You knew you were dreaming. You always did now, when you had this nightmare. Please wake up already. It was no use. The dream continued on, showing you the painful reminders of your past. No, stop. No more. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up!
You shot upright in bed, chest heaving. It felt tight and heavy and full of ice. You looked around the room, trying to ground yourself.
"Y/N." You yelped in surprise and fear. "Your vitals suddenly spiked. Are you alright? Would you like me to perform a medical scan?"
"N-no Google. Please just come here, and can you turn on the light?"
"Of course," the soft light flicked on and you watched Google approach the bedside. "Shall I begin the panic attack protocol?"
"Please, Google."
With a nod, he sat beside you, gently taking your hand. "Please follow along with me as I guide you through a breathing exercise. This will help regulate your heart rate and lower your adrenaline and cortisol levels."
He led you through breathing exercises and grounding techniques, until the trembling of your body calmed and your heart rate returned to normal. In this moment you were very grateful to have been recommended Google instead of a service dog. "Your vitals are regulating to satisfactory levels. Would you like me to get you a glass of water and something to eat?"
"Yes, please. Thank you, Google. I don't know what I would have done without you."
"Of course, Y/N. I am here to assist you. I'll return shortly with water, and something light to eat."
He returned minutes later with a glass of water and a granola bar and watched you intently until both the water and the granola bar were gone. He silently took the wrapper and the glass from you, and you vaguely heard his footsteps as he padded around the kitchen before returning to your side again. He looked at you so gently, if it wasn't for the faint glow in his eyes, he'd look completely human.
"Google? Can you lay with me?" You felt embarrassed just asking. Logically as his owner, of course he'd agree, but it still felt awkward to ask.
"Certainly," he carefully laid down on the bed. "What would you like me to do now?"
"H-hold me. Please…" you whispered, almost hoping he didn't hear. He shifted closer, wrapping his arms around you gently.
"Is this adequate?" He asked, equally quiet. You nodded, leaning into his embrace and laying your head on his shoulder. For a few minutes you just curled against him, trying to relax enough to sleep again. "You are crying. Am I hurting you?"
"No! No, I just… I'm overwhelmed. I don't like walking up from nightmares and feeling like I'm back there again."
"I understand now. Crying is an excellent way to regulate yourself when feeling overwhelmed. I recommend you allow yourself the opportunity to release your emotions. I assure you that whatever you dreamt about that scared you so much, I will protect you. You are safe in my care."
You buried your face in his chest, squeaking out a small "thank you" before your body shook from the sobs racking themselves through your body. His hand gently stroked your hair, and that gentle affection was so much more comforting than you could put into words. You hiccuped as more tears fell from your eyes. "I-I'm sorry," you sobbed. "I'm sorry you have to put up with me clinging to you like this."
"Don't apologize. There is nothing I'd rather be doing than comforting you at this moment. Please let this work its way through you. I'm not going anywhere and I've got you. You're safe."
He held you until you shed your last tear. You fell asleep, cradled against him and woke still in his arms. You slowly looked towards his face, expecting him to be staring at the ceiling. His eyes were closed. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he really was just another human like you. He really was an amazing feat of science. “Y/N, I see you’re awake.” he turned his face towards you, “Are you feeling adequately rested?”
“Given the circumstances, I’m feeling well enough.” You sat up slowly, checking the time. 9:27 AM.
“I felt it appropriate to disable your alarm as your sleep was severely impacted last night and you do not have anything on your schedule until 1 PM. Shall I prepare you breakfast?” You nodded wordlessly, slipping out of bed and heading to the bathroom for a quick shower.
Entering the kitchen carding your hands through your still damp hair, you saw Google at the stove. You sat down, watching him cook with carefully calculated motions. He set the plate on the table in front of you and immediately began cleaning up. The comfortable silence settled into the room as you finished your meal.
“Would you like me to accompany you to your appointment this afternoon?” You nodded, feeling silently grateful to have such a wonderful android in your life.
So I think this barely counts for the prompt but I really like this one so it's going up for kinktober anyway.
Yancy was a sight to behold. The water running down his body traced his muscles and highlighted all the work he put into them. Your eyes followed a drop as it ran down his collarbone, slipping over his chest before running down the planes of his abs as they flexed with every breath. The drop continued further down, drawing your eyes to his hand wrapped around his hard cock.
You placed a hand on his hip, pulling him so his back was to your chest. You kissed his shoulder as you replaced his hand, stroking lazily.
"Please baby, I need more."
You hummed against his shoulder. "You'll get more, just relax and enjoy."
That seemed to flip a switch in him. He laid his head back against you, moaning openly as you stroked. You watched the water run down his abdomen for a moment before speeding up your hand, relishing the way Yancy arched his back and cried out in pure pleasure.
He was cursing lightly under his breath and thrusting into your hand. He tangled his hand in his hair and his stomach muscles began to tighten. He's close.
"Ah, fuck… baby, so close. So close. Please…"
His hips began to stutter a little when he tried to meet your strokes. He was on the edge and just needed a little push. You kissed his shoulder again, this time sucking hard enough to mark. He moaned at the feeling, his orgasm crashing over him as he cried out one last time. It took him a minute to catch his breath.
He chuckled, "Well fuck, I needed that."
"Happy to help," you winked.
"Now," he said, turning around and dropping to his knees with a smirk, "it's youse's turn."
Frostbite finally wrote smut again! Damien is a sub, I make the rules.
Content warnings: restraint, begging, a tiny bit of edging
Words: ~750
Damien was always a hardworking and caring individual. He took his job as mayor very seriously. You scolded him more than a few times for taking work home with him. He’d sit in his office and work on paperwork until ungodly hours of the night. On nights like that you’d have to bribe him into sleeping. A naughty thought crossed your mind. Mr. Mayor needed to stop taking care of the city for a little while and get taken care of himself.
You strolled into his home office to see him hunched over the desk, pen in hand. “Darling, don’t you think it’s time you took a break? You seem tense.”
“The paperwork-”
“Will be there tomorrow. It won’t sprout legs and wander away if you stop for the night.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but closed it again moments later. He cleared his throat, “I have been rather tense recently. I suppose the pressure of trying to get re-elected is getting to me.”
“I can help,” You smiled warmly as you turned his chair towards you. He made a small sound as your lips connected. You placed a hand on his inner thigh to gauge his reaction. The high pitched whine that passed his lips told you everything you needed to know. “Someone’s pent up,” you teased lightly.
“Yes, well,” He cleared his throat again. “I have been busy lately. We can take this to the bedroom-”
“Nope. I want you right here.” You met his eyes, noting the way his pupils were already blown wide. You palmed at his bulge, watching his eyes flutter closed as he sighed. “This is about you, so do you think you can be good for me and just relax? Let me take care of you.”
“Yes, oh god, yes.” He was melting into the chair.
He was already leaking precum when you unbuttoned his pants. You wrapped your hand around him, listening to the way his breath shook as you stroked. He grabbed at your shoulder to pull you close enough to kiss.
You stopped your hand.
“Ah ah ah,” You looked at the way he panted already. “You said you’d be good and relax. That means hands off. Do I need to tie your hands?” You teased.
He swallowed. His eyes flashed between your lips and your hand around his cock, still unmoving. “I…” he sighed. “Please…”
“Please what, Damien? What do you need?”
“I want you to tie my hands. Please, I need to give up control and let you make me feel good. I need it so much.”
You stepped away for a moment, coming back with a silk scarf. You held it up for him to inspect. He nodded, shifting in the chair. You stepped behind him, wrapping the scarf around his wrists. He moaned as you finished tightening the knot. “You know, you look pretty cute like this. All flushed and leaking, breathless for me,” You whispered in his ear.
He laid his head back with a low moan. “You are going to be the death of me,” he panted.
“And what a way to go, don’t you think?” You giggled.
He jumped when you wrapped your hand around his cock again. You started at a slow pace, letting him buck up into your hand. Your other hand worked his shirt open, fingers gliding over the heated skin of his chest. He arched into your touch as best he could with the restraints.
“Ah! Darling, oh please sweetheart don’t stop. It feels so good. I- I, I’m gonna-!”
You stopped your hand.
He sobbed, desperate to finish. His eyes were pleading with pupils blown wide. “D-darling why did you stop? I’m so fucking pent up, please, I’ll do anything just let me cum! Y-you feel how much I’m twitching. I’m desperate. Please please please keep going- aah!”
A long moan broke his begging as you began stroking again. He bucked his hips desperately into your hand, chasing his release. He was babbling and panting without regard to the reserved act he puts on. This is what he needed, to let go.
“Fuck, fuck please, I’m so- I’m so close. Darling, please don’t stop.” Tears of desperation pricked at the corners of his eyes. “Oh god please, I’m so pent up, I need this.” His whimpers and whines grew quicker and higher in pitch.
He came with a cry, nearly doubling over as he painted your hand and his stomach with white. His head fell back, “Thank you, I really needed that.”
I decided to go through my drafts and apparently I never posted this. Just some good old fashioned friends to lovers and overcoming supernatural amnesia.
References to Date, Heist, and Who Killed Markiplier so spoiler warning I guess?
Sometimes, he swore they remembered him. Those split second glances of recognition whenever he managed to pull them from the story for a few short minutes. This cycle ran its course over and over again. Sometimes he swore they looked at him the way they did all those years ago, when- no.
That was a long time ago. There’s no way they remembered their first life; not after being stuck in so many of Marc’s stories. He made sure of it. Dark’s own experience with being inside the narrative Celine created to protect him reminded him that in these worlds you can’t even trust your own memories. There’s no way Marc hadn’t fit something into the story to make sure his old friend, his little monster, would never remember the life they lost before being slotted into role after role.
Still, this time… This time they looked like his old friend from university. They had sat across from him at that table as he ran through his speech for the fifth, sixth, seventh time? The count doesn’t matter. They’d been in that position before many times. He’d tell them he missed them, that he was tired of being pushed aside.
I’m tired of giving people a choice.
Always the same, they’d choose to leave, Marc would break in to fight with him, and someone ended up getting shot. When it was him, he’d graciously let the story play out to completion. They’d get their ice cream, and when it faded away Marc would start it all over again.
This last time, he took the bullet. They looked so scared, like they were afraid of making the wrong choice. In those moments, the darkness clouding his heart parted enough for the want to creep in. He wanted to protect them. He wanted revenge for the lives lost.
He wanted his darling back.
“How about a horror play? That sounds like fun.”
“Are you sure? Horror on a date?”
Looks like his darling wanted to come visit again.
“Did you miss me? I’ve missed you very much.”
“I- Damien, this doesn’t feel right. I want to go home.”
Darks chest tightened. They remembered at least a little of who they used to be.
“Home as you knew it doesn’t exist anymore, darling. If you stay with me, I’ll give you anything your heart desires. I can provide.”
He wasn’t sure if he was even lying anymore. He wanted to provide; give them everything they want.
Damien had been in love with them since their days at university.
“Damien,” they cautiously reached out to him.
“That isn’t my name anymore. Not since that night…"
They winced. He should have never left them in the manor like that, vulnerable and easily exploited by Marc. “How long have I- have we…?”
“Nearly one hundred years of this.” Dark’s voice was soft, lacking its usual edge despite his anger. “He’s been rather… fixated on having a date with you. Among other things.”
Their eyebrows knit together in concentration, “You found me so many times. After what happened after the party, why?” They looked sad.
They should be angry. They should be cursing him up and down for stealing their body and leaving their soul trapped and vulnerable. They should be yelling at him.
“Simply, I was bent on revenge. That’s what it was at first, trying to instill that doubt in you. As time passed and I gained more control over this new form I began to remember who I was before. I had been so deluded by revenge and rage that I had forgotten who I was in my first life.”
Their relief at hearing Damien come out again was evident in their body language. Their fingers brushed the stubble on his cheek. A content sigh slipped from his lips as he closed his eyes.
“I fought so hard to break you out of his games,” Dark pulled them into his arms. “I can finally rest.”
They curled into him, humming lightly. His fingers began idly playing with the hair at the nape of their neck. The broken pieces of Damien that were still in his soul were overjoyed. If he was still that man, he’d definitely be sobbing into their hair. My darling is back.
“Are you alright? You’ve got these afterimage things splitting off of you.”
“I shouldn’t be allowed to be this happy,” Dark stated simply. He looked towards the afterimage they referred to. A blue aberration on his knees, arms wrapped tight around his torso. Damien was insisting on being seen, apparently. “The part of me that is still Damien is rather overwhelmed with this turn of events.”
“He looks like he’s crying.”
“Yes, well, he thought you were lost forever. I thought you were lost to me for good. Marc tried pretty hard to lock you out of your memories.”
“The asshole wanted me to forget about you so he could play the hero. I missed you.” They looked down mumbling, “I loved you, Damien.”
“Damien loved you as well, since your university days even. He loved you, as do I now. Will you have me?”
“Of course I will.”
Dark’s chest ached with years of unfelt emotion washing over him. He carefully tilted their head so he could kiss them. Dark hadn’t felt much beyond rage in years. The DA held onto him tightly, as if he'd cease to exist if they let go. It was like they were pulling him back together.
Dark welcomed it with every piece of his fractured soul.
I have no idea why this ship has taken over my mind but I'm a sucker for soft domestic stuff. It's almost apple season here so I decided why not send the boys and their energetic daughter?
~~
What better way to kick off autumn than with apple picking? This was how Rosa (with Illinois’ help) convinced Markus to go to an orchard with them.
“So this means we’re making a pie this weekend, right?” Markus looked at Illinois.
“You and your sweet tooth,” Illinois sighed, “Apples are good for you on their own you know.”
“I vote for pie!” Rosa called over her shoulder as she led them to another section of trees.
“I think we have you beat Illy,” Markus teased.
Illinois shook his head with a smile, picking up his pace to reach the tree Rosa was staring up at. It was a good thing both Markus and Illinois were already very active because Rosa had enough energy to tire out an excited puppy. She ran them all around that orchard.
As early afternoon set in, they had a large basket of apples to show for their efforts. Rosa sat on Markus’ shoulders as they headed back to the car. This left Illinois (unsurprisingly) carrying the basket. Once they got the apples inside their kitchen, Rosa reached for the well worn cookbook Illinois tucked away in a corner of the kitchen.
“And what are you doing, Precious?”
“Finding the pie recipe. You looked in this book last time we made pie.” Well the kid had logic at least, even if it was often used to convince her parents to agree to a sweet treat.
“Look in the pages after the red tab,” Markus called. “That’s where the pastry recipes are.”
Rosa grinned as she opened up the book to the red tab. Illinois rolled his eyes and started gathering ingredients. He just couldn’t say no when those two joined forces to get their way.
“Markus, since you’re so helpfully pointing out where the recipe is in my book, you can come in here and help us by cutting the apples.”
“Aww, come on!” Markus pouted as he entered the kitchen.
“Treasure, it was your idea. You know what they say about families that cook together anyway.” Illinois leaned over to give Markus a quick peck on the cheek.
“This’ll be the best pie ever,” Rosa cheered with a fist in the air. “Now that all of us are working on it!”
Markus watched Rosa study the recipe as he slipped an arm around Illinois’ waist. He chuckled at her intense gaze. Nothing’s better than a family weekend, he decided.
