#IGNORE THE SPLATS OF GREEN

[otiksimr]

WASPED

#IGNORE THE SPLATS OF GREEN #I WAS USING A COLOR JITTER BRUSH OKAY #my art #wof #wings of fire #wof fanart #wof hivewing #hivewing #wof wasp #wasp #Queen Wasp #dragon #dragon art #art #artwork #digital art #artists on tumblr #I need to remind myself to use timelapse whenever I do a painting

[satoruzlove]

not proofread, age gap between character (older) and reader (younger), kind of ‘forbidden’ relationship but not really,SPIT. suggestive, very suggestive. SWEARING. degradation for a sec, indicating toward cheating but hey whatevs.

it’s so cold as you toss and turn in the bed of your apartment. you want to sleep, you think- you want to have a good night’s rest but you can’t when all you can think about is how this is not a single bed. an apartment not paid for by you- but rather your older friend suna rintaro. he’s got good money from being a national, professional athlete for so long.

he’s got lots of experience. he’s much older, so much smarter than you.

it makes you squish your thighs together and your eyebrows crunch in irritation at yourself. you try to shake the thoughts away, to bane the small whispers of ‘it’s okay, sweetheart, i’ll take care’a your apartment. you just work hard.’ that have been stained into your filthy head ever since you moved in. suna was so kind to buy you this place, to take from his money that he could use on his family- all for a measly young adult to have a good place to stay.

before you’re aware you’re grabbing at your phone and pressing ‘call’ under his name. you sigh, tired eyes fluttering into the air. his voice is so tired when he answers, so gruff and mean- but the words are so soft that you could just, slip a hand through the waistband of-

“ sweetheart, it’s late.” he mumbles. you swear you can hear the pitter patter of rain louder- but you ignore it. “what’re you doing up?” he asks. you can hear a smile. you explain how you can’t sleep, how your mind is keeping you up and the horrid grin on his face makes guilt pool in his stomach. all he does as you speak is hum; “oh baby” , “poor angel” , “uhuh? oh no.” in that tired voice. you feel warmth pool into places it shouldn’t- and hear an abrasive knock on your door. you stand straight up in your skimpy shorts and baby tee- cold flooring unkind to you as you hop around to open up.

he’s so fucking big, too big for you. he smiles down at you with those beautiful green eyes and slight smile lines- the salt and pepper hair he sports graced with the nightly showers. he hugs you, big arms taking up your whole back and picking you up altogether before bumping the door closed with his hips. he places you on the counter- softly, but not for long- before his lips mesh into yours. those big hands, covering your clothed heat and thumb tantalisingly slow to show you any attention.

“ ‘can’t sleep, rin’ “ he mocks you. the same words you used to get him over here- the same words he’s uttering as he takes his free hand to force you into his lips. “needy little baby, huh? ‘s all you are.” he mumbles. his hand moves, parting your lips to deposite a glob of his own saliva on your awaiting tongue with a vulgar ‘ splat!’. “ swallow, right fucking now,” he commands. you obey, of course, earning a sweet smile as his belt falls to the floor and his lips mesh into yours again. “so good,” he moans, “ best fuck in the world, baby. my sweet little whore.”

@renardiererin my love, this one’s for u.

#haikyuu suna #suna x reader #suna rintarō #suna rintarou #suna rintaro scenarios #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarou smut #suna smut #suna headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut

[dcxdpdabbles]

ok but imagine

batman with gun tim time travels to the past but instead of trying to seduce baby tim to the dark side he,,, ignores him

after all baby tim is young and pragmatic he'll realize that company policy is ineffective and kill people gets shit done

no bwg!tim has more important things to handle

like killing the ppl who murder his boo danny

and he knows exactly who to target

bonus points if tim and danny aren't dating yet

extra bonus points if they haven't even met yet

The plan was simple really. Time travel and start the correct way to handle criminals early. Take out the people that had taken from him the only person he really loved.

His past self was still running around trying to talk the Bats down from murderous rage, and while that itched, it was a lesson he needed to learn in order to finally wake up and properly get things done.

Tim saw no reason to track him down. He's stubborn as a mule, he can admit that, and his past self heartily believes that the crazy bastards should be locked away instead of put down. It would be ages before he could get close to getting him to listen to what Tim had to say.

Time, ironically, is not something he has to waste. The machine that brought him back had preset departer times. If he missed it then Gotham in ten years would be without it's Batman.

The carefuly iron control he has over the city would be questioned, and some fools would try to make a power grab in the sudden vaccum Batman had left behind.

So while it would take years for his past self to come to his senses, it would happen on its own, and Tim was alright with waiting for it. What he wouldn't allow to repeat itself was the death of his lover.

His plan involved killing the people that killed Danny. What Tim forgot in his grief was that those very people were the ones to raise Danny.

Yes, Jack and Maddie Fenton had killed their son in an accident. The ray gun that they designed had been faulty and had exploded in wide outburst instead of shooting straight.

It was meant to paralyze the ghost for capture.

Instead, it attacked ghost cores in horrific, fast-acting disintegration. Tim remembers the blast washing over him, the green ripples doing nothing to him as a human, and for a brief second thinking it funny that their gun was just a fancy light show, only to hear Jack Fenton's cry of celebration.

Then Danny's scream of agony.

His skin had been falling off, and Tim had been rooted to the spot watching his boyfriend, his lover, his entire moral compass melt before his eyes.

He had watched Maddie's smug face break into hysterical grief when Danny's ghost form vanished, and the sluggish body that fell to the floor with a splat had been her son. The two scientists had reached Danny first, and the fools had begged him to hold on.

As if they were not the ones to have done this, indirectly or not.

Danny's last words had been "I forgive you. I love you"

and then he was gone. In seconds his Danny was lost. He had died painfully, unfairly, and all because his parents had believed in their bigotry so purely they never saw reason to change their minds, even when there were signs their son was part of the group they loath so much.

The Fentons hadn't even been charged with Danny's death. It was deemed an accident; the worst they had to do was pay a fine for their blast, knocking out the power. All because ghosts were not protected under meta laws, and Danny was no longer recognized as human.

Tim hated them more than any villain in the world, hated that they lived well, Danny did not.

His own comfort was that they couldn't live with themselves either. Jack Fenton had taken his life the night after the funeral Jassmin had planned for Danny. Maddie Fenton had lost her mind, speaking to the air as though her husband and son were still there, and was moved to an asylum by a grief-stricken daughter.

There she died of a broken heart.

Tim took care of Jazz, he felt that Danny would have wanted him to, but she was never the same again. She was one of the first to agreed with him that Batman had to stop people before they went too far.

That thinking "they'll come around" was no longer an option. She made him the bullets for the gun that killed Bruce's parents, and she was the one that watched that same gun put down the Joker.

It was the first time she smiled in years.

All that hurt because of these fools.

Tim wasn't going to let them hurt anyone anymore. He aims his gun at the shaking forms of Jack and Maddie Fenton, their pathetic attempt to fight him off, were nothing comparied to his training.

He had them on their knees, bound to hold still, and with one push of his finger, the toxic outlook on ghosts would die with them.

But foolish-loving Danny wasn't about to let him put them in the ground where they belonged. The boy had thrown himself in front of them with a cry, throwing up a shield seconds before the bullets found their mark.

The Fenton couple gasped while Danny turned to them with clear worry. "Are you alright?"

Tim felt as if though he was kicked in the chest, seeing the boy- for he was a boy. How had he forgotten that his love died so young? Now with all the years under Tim's belt, did he truly see how pre-maturely Danny had died.

He was as beautiful as the day Tim lost him, but he was far too pure and innocent now. Tim's killing was a necessary that ruined him, while Danny remained kind and forgiving till the end.

He can't stop the rush of air that threathens to burn tears into his eyes escape him. Thankfully his training kicks in and Batman is able to shut everything that was Tim in his mind.

All that remain was the mission within human shape.

Danny growls, voice as cold as his ice core "Who are you?!"

"I'm Batman"

"Liar!" The boy hisses, thin pieces of frost growing around his green shield. "Batman doesn't kill!"

Tim scoffs, "Killing is the only way to stop more death."

Danny doesn't respond. He merely shoots a blast at him, momentarily dropping his shield, and Batman rolls away. He will overwhelm the boy and get him out of the way.

Then, he will do what he came to accomplish. Danny must know that, for he sees the moment, he shuts away his own human part and melts into Phantom.

The young ghost who took on a King for his people and became the hero that supported Red Robin above all else.

Phantom leaps at him, and Batman meets him halfway, each wearing emotionless expressions that promise a fight to the bitter end.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #dead tired #tw: mention of suicide #Tw: painful charater death #Batman with a gun #Dark #Tim of the future trying to kill the Fentons #The fentons died with their grief before #Danny doesn't even know Tim #Is it love or is it obession at this point? #I did the best I could I don't really know that comic plot well

[v3lv3tf0x]

Yoo Hoo~! Anybody home? Aha! Someone is(nt)! Anywho, i (DEMAND) want a request.. Of Scaramouche x my oc?? Can you do it? Hetes a desc of my oc:

OC:

Blue mixed with Light green hair

Short to Med hair

120cm

An outfiy kind of like this? But add ruffles.

She has cyro and is like weak asf and is always like "Scaraaa! I need help right now!" kind of like a bratty behavior but when scara gets like serious serious she just behaves.

Genre: sfw at beginning and nsfw to mid-end

Max length: 1-2.5k words... I feel greedy for that lol >D

Scara is kind of like a brat tamer y'knoww? Like he got back from his fatui mission but i dont know abt it, and hes utterly tired and im just like being a brat so he like tames us? Petnames are your choice.

Finally got to this! You didn't mention her name so I improvised, I hope that's alright. Here you go, though, I hope you like it!

Scaramouche was exhausted from his most recent mission, despite how much enjoyment he got from tormenting the inferior idiots. When he got home, he wanted to bathe and rest. A God should not be dirty. But (name) refused to let him do so. She was unaware of his mission- he refused to tell her what he did- but it was getting on his nerves.

     “Scara, c’mon! I just wanna spar! I’m getting better, I swear-!” (name) whined, grabbing his arm. Scaramouche scoffed, yanking his arm away.

     “Later, (name), I’m tired,” he snapped, trying to head to the washroom, rolling his eyes in exasperation when (name) grabbed him again.

     “Puh-lease, Scara! I won’t ask for a while after! Please, please!” She was bouncing on her toes, making her skirt twirl around her.

     “Fine.” Scaramouche pushed her aside, storming into the courtyard and readying himself. “Show me what you’ve learned, then.” (name) pulled out her spear, ice particles sparkling at the tip before she suddenly slammed it into the ground, sending ice spikes rushing towards Scaramouche. He startled, barely having enough time to jump to the side to avoid being skewered. Huh. (name) really had been practicing. A smirk made its way onto his face as he looked over at his darling.

     “Well, well. Look at you,” he purred, grinning. (name) giggled, twirling her spear around.

     “Told you I learned!” She called up before holding the spear out in front of her, feet planted firmly in the dirt. Scaramouche nodded once before sending a bolt of electricity down towards her, which she parried with stunning accuracy. They traded blows, parrying and dodging, cryo and electro clashing sending snowflakes sprinkling to the warm ground, making the courtyard muddy. Sacaramouche, for the most part, stayed up on the pillars, whereas (name) floundered in the mud. Nearing the end of their sparring session, she kept slipping. Scaramouche took advantage of this fact and quickly sent a barrage of electricity at her, making the poor girl fall flat on her back. He then landed above her, effectively pinning her to to ground with a sneer on his face.

     “You’ve gotten better, yeah, but you’re not good.” He scoffed. (name) pouted up at him.

     “You’re such a bully! I am good!” She pushed him back, sending him sprawling into the mud. He made a decidedly unGodly noise as mud splattered on him as he hit the ground. (name) burst into a fit of laughter, grabbing a fistful of mud and throwing it at him. It landed with a wet splat right in the center of his chest. He gave her an icy glare before throwing mud back at her, which she dodged far too easily. 

     “This is stupid. We’re not children,” He huffed, standing up and trying to wipe his hands off.

     “It’s fun!” (name) protested as Scaramouche began to head back inside. He ignored her, kicking his shoes off and heading to the bathroom.

     “Hurry up if you want to bathe together,” He called unceremoniously. (name) scrambled after him, following him into the large bathroom. Scaramouche turned on the shower, making sure it was the right temperature before pulling off his mud-soaked clothes and tossing them in a pile. (name) followed suit, stripping before quickly stepping into the warm spray. The water quickly turned brown at their feet when Scaramouche pushed her head under the water to rinse her hair, ignoring her shrieks of protest.

     “It’s in my eyes, it’s in my eyes!” (name) cried, trying to pry his hand off of her neck.

     “Close them.” Scaramouche continued to hold her under the water with an eye roll, knowing she was being over-dramatic. With a defeated sigh, (name) stopped struggling and let him hold her under the water until it ran clean. Scaramouche let her go and (name) blinked at him with pathetically big eyes.

     “You’re so mean,” she sighed pitifully, watching him chuckle, his eyes raking over her figure.

     “I’m sorry, darling,” he purred. “But you did this yourself. I think you should make it up to me.” His hand trailed from her cheek down her neck to her shoulder. (name) blushed, shivering lightly at his touch and the way his gaze darkened.

     “I thought you were so tired,” she teased, trying not to notice the way the water dripped down his toned body. Scaramouche chuckled again, this time with the promise of something else.

     “Well, now you’ve gotten me all worked up,” Scarmaouche scolded, his touche trailing further down and brushing (name)’s breast before his whole hand engulfed it and he squeezed. (name) let out a choked breath, grabbing onto Scaramouche’s shoulders to steady herself. His other hand came up and repeated the motion on her right breast and she let out another breath.

     “On your knees,” Scaramouche said. “Wanna fuck your throat.”

     “What if I don’t want to?” (name) raised a brow, giving Scaramouche a challenging look. Scaramouche sneered.

     “How cute.” He pushed her down in the tub, grabbing her arm to make sure she didn't slip. “Do what I say, brat, and maybe I’ll be nice.” (name) flushed red and nodded quickly, pushing her breasts together and blinking up at Scaramouche through her lashes with a small smile, tongue poking out of her mouth to taunt him further. He sneered down at her, fisting her hair and yanking her head back, causing her mouth to fall open.

     “Be good and take it, hmm?”

#v3lv3t asks 🦊 #scaramouche #scaramouche x oc #oc #wanderer #kunikuzushi #scaramouche smut #smut #genshin #genshin impact #genshin smut

[blackroseguzzi]

Hi dear, how are you?

I saw you are taking Kai requests and I'm still reeling from chapter 3 of Otherworldly. So, I wanted to ask if you'd be comfortable writing some dark(?) smut for him x fem!reader? You choose how dark or vanilla the fic will be.

Feel free to ignore/decline and have a wonderful day 💙

SHOW ME 🔥 😈

Kai Anderson x Fem!Reader

A little Dark and a little Vanilla-personalities of our lovely Devine Ruler; Kai Anderson 🖤

Summery: You meet Kai at a party and something draws you to him. As you become intimate with each other you ask something of him without realizing what it means to him. There are a few sides to this complex human. The two sides confuse you yet make you completely melt into him.

Warnings: sex, sex, Smut, lots of language that you shouldn’t read if you’re not 18+, ITS SMUT- THATS A WARNING IN ITSELF. Also, my red flag Kai Anderson as my favorite warning.

Okay, I need to go shower because I feel so dirty hehe.

Winter won then battle with Kai about her Neon Glow birthday bash in the basement tonight. She had pleaded with her older brother to let her have her 21st birthday in their home - specifically his sacred quarters down in their basement. Kai had continued to object her requests until one night she had told him that if he allowed her to transform the place into glowing neon wonderland that she would attend the next Trump Rally with him. They shook on it, and Kai had even helped her with decorations.

Kai was not one to party, and he was currently locked inside of his room at his desk, his laptop open to a website about global security. He turned up the volume on his laptop as he watched videos to try and drown out the sounds of “one kiss” by Calvin Harris. He swore he heard this song 5 times since the party had started an hour ago. He sighed heavily, slamming his laptop and pushing back in his desk chair. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the noises from below. He could feel the vibrations of the base, a few muffled men’s voices mixed with the shrill voices of some of winter’s obnoxious girlfriends. He was curious to see what was unfolding down there and decided to check things out. Winter had politely asked him to stay the fuck away from her party, but clearly his listening skills needed some work. He felt like if she was using his sanctuary for her unearthly colorful millennial party, that he at least could assess the damages during the event.

The basement door was open, and he took a step in front of the party abyss. Down below was the blackness of the room, just a few flashes here and there of bright pinks and blues and neon green. Kai kept his statue-like composure as he descended down the steps. The music was vibrating the wooden planks with each step. He could see a crowd of people dancing provocatively with red solid cups in their hands. They were all dressed in white clothing or an awful shade of neon that glowed annoyingly in the black light Kai had helped place next to the make shift bar. He was surprised to see how full the basement had become. He didn’t realize his sister had known that many people, and that she actually liked parties like this. It was sickening to him that someone would enjoy this much color.

He took a seat at one of the bar stools, grabbing at an unopened Bud Light that was on the bar top. He twisted off the cap and took a swig- god awful. He could never understand the hype of beer. It was grotesque, and the way people pounded it like water repulsed him.

He scanned the room for any familiar faces but his view stoped at two people in the corner of the room. Their bodies illuminated by the fireplace that had been on.

There was one male, clearly intoxicated as his body swayed as he talked. He was in a white shirt splatted with the ugliest colored paints. It was vile to think he had purposefully done that to a perfectly good white t-shirt.

There was also a female, and she struck Kai’s interest immediately. In the sea of brightly colored clothing, she was dressed in a black turtleneck and a pair of ripped black jeans. Her hair was even dark, cascading down her shoulders. She looked extremely unimpressed with mr. paint splatter as he inched closer to speak to her over the music. He narrowed his eyes as he examines her closer. She was not one of the girls Winter had ever brought over, he would have noticed that porcelain skin and the shape of her curves.

He watched as your tongue moved around the straw of your drink, guiding it into your mouth. God, he wanted your lips around him like that.

You moved your head slowly over to Kai’s glare and for a moment the two of you synced eyes. You smirked shyly, the straw still between your velvet red lips. Kai swallowed down another chug from his beer bottle as a new song came over the speakers. You turned your attention to paint splatter and grabbed the collar of his ugly t shirt, dragging him to the middle of the basement where everyone was gathered dancing. You made sure to flash your eyes over at Kai as you grind her body on paint splatter. Kai felt his pants stiffen slightly and he was relieved that he was in dark clothing. He watched as your body moved slow and deliberate against the man behind you, yet you kept flashing looks to Kai as if seducing him. Kai’s heart thumped in his chest, watching as paint splatter decided to ruin his own party by grabbing your ass a little too aggressively. You pushed away, but he only leaned forward again, this time grabbing your neck and pressing your lips to his. Again, you pulled away more forcefully this time- and that’s when Kai stood up, chucking his empty beer bottle in the trash and sneaked onto the dance floor. His face stone and devilish, he approached Paint splatter and politely tapped his shoulder. The drunken man turned to face Kai who leaned in to whisper in his ear. Whatever he had said made Paint Spatters’ eyes widen and he looked between you and Kai before nodding and backing away into the crowded dance floor apologizing and yelling about getting more beer. Kai turned his focus onto you, smirking lightly.You could feel your face flush. You were extremely turned on by his harsh black eyes and blue hair pulled into a half bun. His smirk exposed the perfect kind of dimples that made your panties wet. He put his hand on the small of your back and pulled you close, “I’m Kai.” You felt your nipples harden as his breath hit your ear. You leaned in close so they were pressed on his chest as you whispered your name in return. He snaked his other hand onto your ass and pulled you close to his body and started moving slowly to the music. One of his thumbs had made it up in the hem of your shirt, touching your bare skin and you could feel your pussy throbbing. Kai nuzzled into you like he was trying to protect you from everyone else around you as they danced. He could feel you rubbing your body in all the right places onto his. He glanced into your eyes as you moved - You looked like a little lamb, one that he also was about to sacrifice.

You twirled your body around so that your ass was pressed tightly against his erect penis. You moved slowly up and down and pushed your ass further into him while he gripped your waist. Kai planted a careful kiss on your neck and you knew that tonight you were going to fuck this man’s brains out. Your throat yearned for his hands and his dick to be around and inside it.

Hell, you deserved to be adored, but also fucked so hard that afterwards you couldn’t stand up.

Kai moaned in your ear as you pushed your ass harder into him. He moved your hair so carefully from your ear to get as close as his lips could take him to your face.

“Get yourself another drink, and walk up to the second floor. I’m the first door on the right.” He let go of you slowly. You turned quickly and watched him slither in between the abyss of ugly neon drunken college students. His black shirt and striking blue hair standing out as he snuck back up the stairs. You ran your hands through your sweaty hair and took a breath. That was Winter’s brother? You had just become close with Winter over the last year. She had complained about her brother on multiple occasions. The way she talked about him made Kai seem like he had some major issues, but you reminded yourself that you loved a good walking red flag.

You bit your lip and looked around at the preposterous excuse of a ‘rave’. You surly wouldn’t miss it if you snuck out and up to Kai’s room.

You made your way to the makeshift bar, grabbing two solo cups and pouring a generous amount of fireball in both before descending stealthily up the stairs- headed to Kai’s room.

As you hit the top step the air became less foggy as you quietly made your way towards the stairs.

“Y/N?” You cursed to yourself before turning at the sound of Winter’s voice. “What are you doing up here? I have so much to tell you- Kelly totally just made out with me in the bathroom,” She drunkenly made her way over to you and pointing to the solo cups in your hands. “Are you double fisting or did you actually find a man friend down there to share shots with?”

“I was actually looking for you. We need to take a celebratory shot!” You did not want Winter to realize that you were about to go bring not only the drink, but your body to her brother upstairs.

“Oh cool, thanks babes.” She grabbed one of the solo cups and hissed as the fireball burned down her throat. “I’m so glad you came. Are you having a good time?”

“You know, it’s actually not as bad as I thought it would be,” You smiled at your friend who raised her eyebrows in shock at your words.

“Good, go back down there! There’s nothing up here except the bathroom and my idiot brother.”

You didn’t know how to respond so you decided to fill the void by shoving the edge of the solo cup in your mouth and letting the warm alcohol coat your insides with cinnamon flavored heat.

“Well, I’ll meet you down there. I need to freshen up in the lady’s room.”

Winter smiled at you before turning to descend back down the stairs to her party. You let out a breath, knowing how distasteful it was to fuck the birthday girls’ brother while she waited for you in the basement. There was just something so enchanting about Kai that you needed to feel him inside of you - just this once.

Quietly, you tip toed up the staircase towards Kai’s room. Your lips pressed together as rose your hand to knock. You could feel your heart in your throat as you saw the door knob turn and Kai appeared in front of you, that smirk of his forming once he saw you.

“I’m happy to see you decided to join me up here.” Kai threw an arm out and inviting you inside his room. It was dark, except for a lamp that was on at his desk. His room was filled with book shelves chalked full with novels and his walls were a dark Navy. You also noticed lots of paperwork stuck to bulletin boards above his desk - This was the room of a busy man.

“Mmm, I like a man who can enjoy the voice of Lana Del Rey,” You smiled as you walked over to Kai’s old record player, ‘Ride’ playing softly through the speakers.

“She has a beautiful voice,” He stated, walking up next to you. Having his body so close sent electric shockwaves through your vagina. You licked your lips before looking up at him. He had such strong features, and those eyes literally sent you over the edge. His hand raises, sweeping hair from your face as he cups your jaw, bringing your lips together. The softness of his kisses made you completely let go. Kai deepened the endearment and felt his erection welcome the both of them between their bodies. He could taste the fireball on your tongue and he walked your intertwined body over to his bed.

“I don’t do missionary,” You spoke, slightly out of breath. Oh, Kai liked you before but now he was loving you.

“Good, get naked right now and let me fuck you from behind.” Kai ripped off his shirt quickly and let his jeans drop to the floor. He watched you pull your top off, drooling over the way your breasts bounced as they fell from your bra. He took one of your nipples in his mouth and felt the shiver of your body as you moaned sweetly at his actions. He moved his mouth to your neck, sucking it aggressively. You dug your fingers into the flesh on his back and he groaned in enjoyment. He spun your around so that your ass was up against his dick and he slipped his fingers into your wet pussy, his digits tasting you. “I want the side of you that you don’t show anyone else,” You whispered as your backside was pressed against him, your hands reaching up to play with that blue hair that drove you crazy. His fingers explored your insides as if you were a road map to a treasure.

“Drop down like a good girl, and I’ll fuck you like a bad one.” Kai’s words sending goosebumps over your body. You leaned forward, your palms propped you up on the bed as he entered you from behind. He moved slow at first, until you were dripping at your folds, then he started to really hammer into you. You loved the way he smacked your ass and then would gently rub your hips. He was the perfect mix of pain & pleasure.

He exited you and gently pulled you up to face him.
“Your face is so… wow.. it’s just beautiful,” Kai spoke in between hungry kisses. You smiled against his lips at his words. Usually a man you just met that engaged in sexual acts with you only complimented your pussy, not your face. It made you crumble even more for Kai.

He jumped onto the bed and you crawled on top of him, your wetness letting him slide effortlessly back inside of you. He watched with a wide smile as you rode his dick, while rubbing your clit. You moaned deeply as his hands massaging your tits, making you go wild.

“Spit in my mouth.”

You looked down at Kai with a smirk, he was a kinky one. You licked your lips before sucking your saliva into the center of your mouth. You leaned forward as he opens his mouth for you. You forcefully spat your saliva into Kai’s open mouth and he hummed as his eyes closed, savoring your taste before he swallowed it. You grabbed his cheeks in your hand and let out a sinful giggle.

“You are a wicked one, Kai Anderson.” You pushed yourself down on top of him and feverishly kissed him, taking in his bottom lip between your teeth every so often, making his growls and groans more erotic each time.

You moved your hips around and sat back up throwing your head back in pleasure as Kai moved between pinching your nipples and needing them between his fingers. His hands were soft, and you kept getting a nose full of his oaky masculine scent that almost drove your animalistic instincts crazy. You had read somewhere that a woman was always sexually attracted to her partners smell. You had never enjoyed a man’s sweat until right now. It all came together to make so much sense, just like your pussy came together with his hard long and delicious cock. Kai sat up as your bodies stay linked and he snaked his hands around you so that one hand was on the small of your back and the other on the back of your neck. He pressed his forehead to yours as you moved your body. The earth seemed to slow down as your ears only filled with the sound of his breathing and the faint echoes of Rey’s ‘Tomorrow Never Came’. Your vulnerability in that moment made you slightly embarrassed. The way his thumb stroked your middle back and then when he kissed the tip of your nose you knew this man was some kind of mythical creature you possibly dreamed up in a drunken state. “Should we take this to the shower?” He whispered as your body continued to move up and down on top of him. Your nodded, happy to break the intense moment between the two of you. If you lasted any longer you knew you’d be utterly attached to this guy whom you barely knew.

You slid off of him, and he takes your hand and leads you to the attached bathroom. He turned on the shower and you immediately felt the steam engulf both your bodies while continuing to actively kiss. He cupped your ass and before you know it, your legs were wrapped around him as he carried you into the hot shower. He slowly re-entered you as he slammed your back into the shower wall, the water cascading down both of your sweaty bodies. You felt his dick so far up inside of you that you felt like you were getting the most intimate part of him. He pulled from the kiss to watch your face as he thrusted deep inside of you, your legs wrapped tightly around him, his hands still grabbing your ass cheeks to keep you from falling.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” Kai moaned as he went in and out of you pleasurably. He was panting hard when you grabbed each side of his face in your hands and smashed your lips together again feeling your orgasm rising. You threw your head back as Kai started pounding you harder and faster. Kai was staring back at you with his intense eyes. He raised one arm up, throwing his hand around your neck, his arm wresting perfectly in between your perky breasts.

“You like when I choke you? Cum for me baby girl.” He squeezes your neck a little harder. You moaned in pleasure and suddenly you could feel Kai release himself inside of you, which in turn made you relax and let your orgasm come to fruition.

He slid out from inside you as your legs gently unwrapped from his waist and you planted them on the shower floor. He refused to let you go and you both just embraced in the shower, the water washing away the sinful things you had just done. What had possessed you to partake in this aftercare that Kai was giving you was unknown, but you stood there as your legs shook lightly from the orgasm that had overtaken your body moments before.Kai stroked your hair as your head lay on his chest-Eyes closed as the water pelted down on your skin. When it felt like you both hand lingered too long, you pulled away shyly. Kai shut the water off, hoping out of the shower and walking naked towards the cabinet of towels. He handed one to you, thanking him quietly before wrapping yourself into it.

He dried off his body before throwing the towel around his waist. You both didn’t say much as you exited the bathroom. Kai walked over to the record player and changed out the record. You loved the song that had started playing - Not Allowed by TV Girl.

“You want to lay in bed and listen to some music with me?” Kai asked, looking to you with a raised eyebrow. You were surprised at his eagerness to spend time with you after the relationship you shared this far had been strictly sexual.

“Ahh..yeah okay.” You rang out your hair in your towel before grabbing your clothes that were laying on the floor.

“No, no clothes,” Kai said quietly as he wrapped his arms around your naked body. He guided you to the bed as the sounds of music played in the air.

You felt the goosebumps appear as Kai’s fingers made little circles on your shoulder.

“So, I have to ask you a questioned- Why were you at this party tonight? You don’t fit the scene,” Kai’s body vibrated your ear as he spoke.

You smiled on his chest. “Winter is a good friend of mine actually. We share a lot of classes at college. To be honest that party doesn’t really fit her scene either.”

You moved so that you were now laying beside Kai, faces inches apart. His eyes were softer now, more relaxed and playful. He was a really handsome man, and you adored the small freckle on his nose and the way his eyes squinted when he smiled. Oh, and you couldn’t forget the dimples.

“Well I’m extremely grateful you came tonight, pun intended.” Kai chuckled as you playfully hit his chest.

“It’s my turn to ask you a question.” You propped yourself up on your elbow so that you could look down at Kai’s calm expression. He raised his eyebrows in anticipation.

“Are you always this intimate with girls after you just fucked them?” Your lips pressed together and you narrowed your eyes at him.

He shook his head “Never.”

“Then why are you being this way with me- a girl you plucked from your sisters basement party?”

He smiled and put his hand to your face to stroke your cheek “it’s simple- You told me to show you a side of me I don’t show anyone else.”

He smiled and put his hand to your face to stroke your cheek “it’s simple- You told me to show you a side of me I don’t show anyone else.”

He smiled and put his hand to your face to stroke your cheek “it’s simple- You told me to show you a side of me I don’t show anyone else.”

He smiled and put his hand to your face to stroke your cheek “it’s simple- You told me to show you a side of me I don’t show anyone else.”

He smiled and put his hand to your face to stroke your cheek “it’s simple- You told me to show you a side of me I don’t show anyone else.”

“Then why are you being this way with me- a girl you plucked from your sisters basement party?”

He smiled and put his hand to your face to stroke your cheek “it’s simple- You told me to show you a side of me I don’t show anyone else.”

#kai anderson smut #evan peters imagine #evan peters fanfic #evan peters #kai anderson #evan peters x reader #kai anderson ahs #kai anderson imagine #ahs cult #warren lipka x reader #evan peters x y/n #kai anderson x reader #kai anderson x you #kai anderson fanfiction #smutty kai anderson #kai smut #kai anderson messiah #smut #ahs smut #kai ahs #american horror story #evan peters x you

[crappymixtape]

you gotta help me, baby

even though you could definitely apply for any other job at the mall or stupid family video it still wouldn’t pay as much as babysitting does, but god you’re one more spilled tray of food on the floor from quitting until your boyfriend shows up to save the day | (  2.3k, modern!day au, fluff, established relationship, steve x you, steve x reader ) REQUEST ↪ nonny, i hope your babysitting goes okay and even if it feels like it sucks i know you got this!! ♥️

Y O U G O T T A H E L P M E, B A B Y 🎶 manly man, delacey & emily weisband

You were covered in it. What it was you didn’t know, but between the spilled bottles, thrown food and horribly executed idea of finger painting you reckoned you looked a mess. You would’ve brought the kid to the park just down the street, but it was way too hot. July sun beating down and turning the slide into something that would melt off the backs of your thighs the second you touched it.

And the only thing that made this shit tolerable, the only person that kept you sane these long days, was working overtime and every time you checked your phone it stared up at you blankly.

No notifications. You’d open your messages. No little blinking dots. Nothing. Nada. Why you??

Fingers swiping across your screen you texted Robin, begging her for the fifth time to please let your boyfriend leave early, but you heard it before it happened.

A squeal of delight and then the splat of chocolate pudding all over your phone and hands and bare legs and shirt and–

“Yummy!” the little girl kicked her feet happily in her high chair as you dragged your eyes up from your lap and tried to smile. She was 2. Of course Bea was throwing pudding across the room, but you were at your wit’s end and your chest squeezed with the thought of having to clean up again.

“It’s only pudding,” you muttered under your breath, screwing your eyes shut, trying to count to ten until a knock on the door shook you from your attempt at calming down.

Were they home already? There was no way.

Getting up from the table you swiped an already messy washcloth across Bea’s face, ignoring the abysmal state that you were in, and hurried to the entryway. Pushing yourself up on tip toe you looked through the little peephole in the door and the sight of what was on the other side nearly brought tears to your eyes.

“Oh thank god,” you unlocked and yanked the door open, nearly throwing your arms around Steve’s neck, but stopped short when you remembered the pudding.

You were a sight. Cheeks dotted with red and blue and green paint, white shirt covered in chocolate and cut-off shorts splattered with…was it macaroni? Steve’s first reaction was to laugh, but the look on your face made him soften and he gave you a sympathetic smile.

“Awh, baby. That bad?” he asked, hands reaching out to tug your hips into him by your pockets despite the mess all over you and you melted into his chest. Your mmhm was muffled by the soft fabric of his shirt and he tsked gently. Poor you. Glancing over your shoulder he saw Bea in her highchair, still kicking her feet happily and giving a little squeal at the sight of him.

“Stee!” she shrieked and Steve laughed.

“Hi, Bea,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead and walked you slowly backwards into the house to keep the heat out. “Are you havin’ fun today?” he asked and she giggled.

“Yummy,” she said and put a chocolatey hand to her mouth then stuck it back out to him, offering to share.

“Oh! Wow, that does look good,” pulling his hands from your pockets he tucked away the hair that had fallen into your face. “Why don’t you go take a minute, babe. I got this,” he said softly, pressing another kiss to your cheek before stepping around you to take the washcloth off the table. “Bea, I gotta say, this looks like the best pudding ever made,” he tutted a bit as he wiped more chocolate from her cheeks, her nose, her chubby little hands and suddenly everything felt so much easier.

“Yes, yes!” she squealed and he laughed.

Steve turned to tidy up your chair, muscles in his arm pulling and flexing as he moved, and your cheeks warmed at the sight of him. Hair a bit messy from the open windows on his car, skin golden and warm like it held all of summer under it and dotted with new freckles from sitting out by the pool yesterday.

You could watch him all day, but you needed a second for yourself more and so you hurried down the hallway to the bathroom.

Of course you were good with kids, why else would you have taken the job? But some days were harder than others. Some days the screaming was endless and nothing you did could make the tears stop.

Teething, skipped naps, overtired and hungry or wanting mama and it made you feel like maybe you weren’t good at it. Maybe you should work at the mall. Maybe your dream of kids of your own was too much, maybe you wouldn't be a good mom, but then Steve would show up.

Your second wind. Your cheerleader.

Your lifesaver.

He’d tell you it was okay, everyone gets frustrated. Everyone has a breaking point. Just take a minute for yourself. Take a break from the crying. I got this. I can handle it and when you come back you’ll feel so much better, baby.

I love you, baby.

You’d wiped the paint from your cheeks, cleaned the chocolate from your legs and hands, took a few deep breaths and resigned yourself to the fact that your shirt and shorts were brown and orange now and that was that.

Splashed cold water on your face and redid your ponytail and when you looked back in the mirror you were surprised at how refreshed you looked. You weren’t back to 100%, but it was much better than before and when you opened the bathroom door you could hear Steve talking to Bea.

“So it’s a show about a dog family, huh?”

“Yes! Booey and Bingo! And mum and dad!”

You quietly walked down the hallway and leaned against the opening into the kitchen, watching for a just a minute as Steve sat at the table. Elbow leaning on Bea’s highchair tray and free hand feeding her pudding neatly from a spoon.

“And what’s dad say?”

“Cheeky kids!”

“Cheeky kids, huh?” Steve laughed, “Sounds very British. You’ve got sophisticated tastes, my friend.”

A smile tugged up at the corners of your lips as your chest squeezed again, but this time with something different. Not anxiety or stress or worry, but affection. Care. Love. God you loved this boy. So damn much and when he turned to look over his shoulder at you, you bit your lips between your teeth. Caught, but he didn’t care. He gave you smile, a little smug and a lot fond, and then turned back to Bea.

“Think it’s gonna be time for a nap soon, Bea,” he said, tone firm, but caring and the little girl scrunched her nose up. “I know, seems boring but–” he stood and took her bib off before lifting her gently from her highchair, “–I bet you’ll get to read a book first, hm? That sounds nice.”

“Yeah, we could read Owl Babies, Bea,” you chimed in, finally coming out from your hiding spot and the toddler’s eyes lit up at the sight of you.

“Yes! Yes! Blankie? And snuggles,” she said, squirming in Steve’s hold and making grabby hands at you. He chuckled and passed her off, brushing his thumb soft across your cheek, eyes only for you. Warm amber, burnt caramel, flecks of green and gold and you mouthed a thank you.

“Night, Bea. See you when you wake up,” he said, messing her hair a little as she let loose a big yawn.

“Nigh-nigh, Stee,” her little voice was sleepy now and when you turned to go up the stairs he mouthed an I love you, smile lopsided and just a little smug. Anticipating his favorite time of day. Bea’s nap and getting you all to himself on the couch for a couple of hours and he could hardly wait to get his hands on you, chocolate shorts and all.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington stranger things #steve stranger things #steve x you #steve fanfic #steve x reader #steve x fem #steve harrington fic #makeacrappymixtape #requests #asks

[wannaeatramyeon]

Wanna do some small research of what characters favorite ice cream flavor?

I somehow think Gun is Vanilla or green tea flavor type of guy. Surprisingly.

Then Goo is Chocolate or some weird combination flavor type of ice cream.

Saaaaam, I've been putting this off because I don't wanna research ice cream. But I will give you this Gun + Goo crack fic. Which also lets you know their ice cream preference.

PLEASE ACCEPT THIS OFFERING INSTEAD

Gun Park + Goo Kim: Ice Cream

More silly shenanigans

"What's that?" Goo asks, face inches from Gun's hand.

It is very clearly ice cream. Scooped round and placed in a little cardboard cup. There was even a mini spoon to boot. Nothing adventurous about it. Gun doesn't bother to respond, choosing to ignore him altogether.

They walk along for a few more paces, a few precious moments of peace before it is broken by the most obnoxious whine.

"Where's mine?" the blonde sulks and Gun's fist twitches. It would be so easy to reach out and smack his face.

Gun had asked. He had very specifically asked if Goo wanted anything, out of some misplaced goodwill, and he replied that ice cream hurts his teeth.

Technically he didn't explicity say no, but was that supposed to be some riddle Gun had to decipher? Some childish little game? Well he wants no part of it.

Goo doesn't let up, bizarrely invested and halting them both.

"What flavour is it? Is it vanilla?"

Inching closer, as if it was something worthy of inspection, "It looks like vanilla."

Nose now almost touching and taking a deep inhale, "Smells like vanilla."

"Maybe tastes like vanilla?" Goo darts forward to take a chomp just as Gun whips it out of reach and shoves his head aside.

"Let me have some!"

Gun looks at Goo, lip curling. Absolutely no fucking way. "Get your own."

"Please?"

"No."

"Hmph. Fine."

Gun keeps an eye on him, in case he tries anything. After a few more moments, his partner's attention seemingly elsewhere, he takes his first bite.

There it is.

"Fuck you." Goo deadpans.

Gun, distracted, with a spoonful halfway to his mouth gives Goo the opportunity he is looking for.

The tub, cupped casually in his palm and grip slack, is slapped with overwhelming force.

It flies through the air, content spilling, and lands with a splat over 20ft away.

As the final insult to injury, Gun doesn't taste the remaining spoonful. The violent smack offsetting the intended trajectory, ice cream sliding off and falling onto his shirt instead.

Then, melting quickly, it drips down onto his shoe.

"I don't even like ice cream!" Goo cackles after watching everything unfold. As if this has all led to the funniest punchline ever.

Gun glances down at his spoon. That would probably hurt if it was jammed into an orifice somewhere. He's usually prefers bare knuckles, but this would do. It feels right.

Readjusting his grip and now holding it like a weapon, "I'm going to kill you."

#good vanilla is GOD TIER #lookism #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #lookism fic #lookism hc #lookism headcanon #lookism x reader #lookism fanfic #gun park #goo kim #park jonggun #kim joongoo #wannaeatramyeon

[flamingskull28]

8 let out a sigh of relief as the elevator halted and the door awaited input to open. It had taken many days and countless re-tries but she had beaten the spiral of order just as she had the Deep-Sea metro.

"Gotta say 8 you impress me more and more all the time. That metro place was one thing, but this hellish tower? Was whole new brand of insane and you beat it all the same." Pearls robotic voice beamed with pride. 8 gave a tired smile in return.

Acht cleared her throat "Yeah, yeah it was impressive, but we still need to get a move on. After all, if those trials were in the way of the top, I doubt whoever's behind all this will be willing to have a nice chat." Pearls drone eyes rolled but both her and 8 knew Acht was right. Sure she was a bit of a sarcastic ass sometimes, but she was often correct. "Let's hope Marina is up here too..." her fists clenched as she said so and Pearls drone form looked down solemnly.

8 bit her cheek, she was tired of them whining on about Marina. Of course, 8 was worried about the girl, Marina was her role model after all!... but another person wouldn't leave 8's head. Like persistent headache, they wouldn't leave her head. (she had been splatted many times because of the distraction) Though she didn't think Pearl or Acht would understand. no one could understand how much 4 meant to her, been separated from them for so long made her hearts ache in a burning pain.

They had been the square went to hell, but 8 hadn't been able to find them since. The worry of 4's fate had bit away at her worse than the strange fish creatures she'd been made to fight.

"Well then 8, let's get on with this and save Marina!"

8 took a deep breath before opening the door and stepping through to large open space, with various bits of cover strewn around. All with that same sickly white she'd grown to despise. 8's eyes danced about the empty arena seeing nothing, until her gaze fixated on a vaguely shaded person. 8's jaw fell open, her tired weak eye lids shot apart and her whole body racked as if she'd been stabbed in her hearts.

"W-Who is that?" Pearl sounded nervous as she looked over the imposing inkling, with short, rounded tentacles and pure white lines crackling along her face even down to her hands which tightly griped a pure white hero shot. The inkling stared back, directly at 8 but didn't even twitch a muscle of their stone-cold facial expression.

Acht noticed 8's shaking "8? I don't think this is time to be afraid, especially after everything you just went through....." The green Octoling paused and seemed to put the pieces together. "Do you.... know them?"

8 ignored her and walked forward on her barely functioning legs. Looking up at the figure her lips parted and pushed past the dryness of her throat, ".....4?" the word was barely a whisper but the figure seemed to twitch as it was uttered..

A deafeningly silent moment passed as the 4 and 8 were locked in staring contest.

Eventually 4 took a step forward, "8......" their voice was dry and distorted, sounding almost like a voice filter.

"4 what happene-"

"No intruders in the Spiral of Order!" Their voice boomed, lacking the tinge of life it had shown just a moment ago. 4 jumped down off the platform and landed in front of 8, their cloak fluttering about despite the lack of wind. They hesitated for a moment and stared into 8's soul, with faded red eyes.

8 wanted more than anything to collapse into 4's arms and be told it would be okay and that she was safe now, but she knew that wouldn't be happening. Despite the pain tearing through her hearts, 8 could only stare back.

4 turned her head back and clenched her tentacles as if she was in unbelievable pain, her eyes briefly opened and looked to 8 with the same pained longing she knew all too well, but her internal fight didn't last long as she snapped back up.

"Trespasses face... execution, all respawn points disabled." They read robotically, a barely visible tear leaking from her eye as 4's weapon was raised at 8. Who half-heartedly raised her's back.

Pearl and Acht were heard stepping back as the two prepared the fight.

The two loves gave a gaze at one another... before the sound of ink flying through the air echoed through the arena.

#splatoon #agent 4 #splatoon 2 #side order splatoon #side order #acht splatoon #dedf1sh #pearl houzuki #pearl drone #splatoon 3 #writers on tumblr #writing on tumblr #agent 8 #agent 32

[silentvoicescryingout]

Steel - Chapter 2 (draft)

Previous chapter: 1

🔞🔞 Adult Content 🔞🔞

Made me, unmake me

Green eyes leveled at him, glinting like a freshly sharpened and polished blade. Pastel lashes lowered to shade jade eyes, casting a shadow that colored them darker, like rain soaked leaves after a summer storm. 

“Brute strength might have made you,” he muttered, taking slow, lazy steps around the circumference of the invisible boundary of Sakura’s turf.

He came to a stop, five paces behind her left shoulder. Her right ankle twitched, the heel shifted back by a tenth of a tenth of an inch.

“If left unrestrained,” he continued, marking the ripple of tension that rolled from the top of her head to the soles of her feet, “I can unmake you with nothing of the sort.”

“Save your riddles, Kakashi-sensei,” she snapped. “You agreed to train me.”

“So I did,” he sighed. Her next breath whooshed out audibly from between her teeth. “What if I told you it was to humor you in your moment of elevated emotion?”

Using the right foot, she pivoted, appearing before him in the blink of an eye, her fist curled tight in the front of his shirt. The flexible fabric popped under the strain of her grip.

“I’d say that you owe me,” she murmured. Despite the cool quality to her tone, her fingers yet trembled, ever-so slightly. “For all the time wasted, and the days you ignored me before. It’s the least you can do.”

“I acknowledge my failures,” he replied. He swallowed thick, eyed the deepening furrow between his former student’s fair brows, the dancing of freckles along the wrinkled bridge of her nose. 

“I’ve moved past wanting your acknowledgement.” Sakura released him with a shove that smarted, no doubt leaving a bruise. “I want you to create in me what you made of Naruto and Sasuke.”

He dodged her next blow, his blood pressure spiking in response to the reverberation of her fist smashing into the spot where his face could have been. The world whipped around in a whirlwind of color as she launched herself at him again and again, taking direct blows to her abdomen, her legs and face without as much as a flinch. 

With a frustrated growl, Sakura heaved herself up from the ground, swaying into an offensive stance. He stood rooted in the spot he was in before, unruffled and unmarred save for the throbbing bruise at his sternum.

“If you have to break me apart to make me strong,” she panted, sweeping dirt from her cheek with the back of a torn glove. “So be it.”

“That’s not a healthy mentality,” he mumbled, scratching at his chest. He glanced down lazily at his feet, toeing a bit of rock with his sandal. “I suspect this is perhaps a twisted sort of coping mechanism, and I must say I do not recommend it.”

Kakashi attempted to keep his tone light, aiming for brevity and familiarity. Inside him something curled in his gut, sickening him with the image of a pale, youthful face splattered with strangers’ blood and tiny gobbets of flesh.

“You’re the last person to talk to me about coping mechanisms,” Sakura spit, commingled saliva and blood falling, splat, to the side. “You’ve killed or found dead most of your loved ones and spend your free time reading porn or talking to headstones. I couldn’t care less to know what you consider ‘healthy’.”

“Now, that isn’t very nice.” His jaw clenched before he inhaled deeply through his nose, becoming the picture of relaxation once again. “My sweet Sakura-chan would never have talked to sensei like that.”

She scoffed, rushing toward him with yet another full frontal assault. Even as he maintained his composure and twisted away and around her attacks, his muscles strained and heart raced with adrenaline. 

Despite the assumed simplicity of her battle style, her technique was near-flawless. Sakura was fast, precise. Lethal. Each movement had a purpose and nothing was wasted from the flexing of her forearms to the touch of her toes to the ground. Kakashi knew that if she were to get her hands on him, he could very well be a dead man.

She fought with a ferocity born of trauma and marrow-deep determination. Her only  failure was being fresh, lacking the experience that had festered inside of him for decades; her terrors had accumulated over only a handful of years.

His knowledge of her talent was now supplemented with the new awareness of her capacity for cruelty. It frightened him, even as the part of him buried deep inside who once sought out shinobi for qualities just like that was…intrigued.

Her voice tore from her throat, ripped through his musings and brought him back to the present just in time to duck below a kick that likely would have freed his head from his shoulders:

“You never had any qualms about ruining your students before. Why do I have to be different?”

Because you are different, he thought. He wanted to say, this isn’t you.

Kakashi had to stop completely in his tracks, locking his hands around her wrists in a hold that he knew she could break. He stared down, into her green eyes that were so bright they seemed to glow, at the thick locks of pink brushing past her shoulders. 

He had seen that face so many times, watched it age and change slowly through the years. But everything, at this moment, looked so very unfamiliar. As if he hardly knew the girl–no, woman now– at all.

He wondered if he ever knew who Sakura was, if there was a Sakura to know— or if the young woman standing before him was an amalgamation of the people who had been there to form her. The compassion of her mother, wit of her master, quick temper from Naruto, hatred from Sasuke. That just barely cruel edge masked with pretty snark, everything Yamanaka Ino pruned her to be.

Kakashi wondered what, if anything, she might have inherited from him.

“If you want me to treat you like everyone else,” he said, shifting his feet ever-so-slightly, rolling his shoulders back, “so be it, then.” 

Her next swipe of a chakra-laden hand cut through a billow of leaves. In the next moment, her legs were kicked out from under her, Kakshi’s knee pressed to her nape, a kunai glinting next to her cheek.

She growled in frustration, the tips of her ears stained red as she bucked and thrashed, dislodging him from his position on her back.

“There is no honor in the field,” he said, watching her face as her eye flitted between his feet and hands. “There are no standards of ethics, no codes of conduct.”

“I have been in the field before,” Sakura hissed, her limbs almost trembling with pent up energy. “I haven’t just been sitting around playing pretty nurse.”

“Assume what you know of shinobi to be a lie,” he continued, marking how she bristled at his lack of response to her quip. “We are not heroes. Not ninja like us. We don’t fight to protect the weak and the poor, nor do we fight enemies because it is the right thing to do.”

“Let Naruto and Sasuke be the heroes,” she spat. Mint-green chakra condensed around her fists, morphing into blade-like protrusions between her knuckles. “I just want to get the job done.”

“If I asked you to assassinate a man who is not even a shinobi,” he asked, lowering his voice so he knew she would have to strain to hear it, “would you do it?”

A beat passed, a minute shift in her features come and gone within the span of a blink.

“Yes.”

“Hesitation,” he sighed. “You don't have the heart for it, Sakura-chan.”

“You don’t know me,” she barked, her hand snatching him by the collar for one brief second before his form slipped away with a poof, leaving a log in its place. 

“I do.”

“Everyone thinks they know who I am, what I’m capable of,” Sakura panted, swiping moisture from her brow and whirling to face him with a kunai glinting in her hand. “They make assumptions based on my background, on how I look, on who trained me–”

Their blades clanged, the force reverberating through the bones of his arm.

“–on who didn’t,” she whispered, baring her teeth and narrowing her eyes.

Kakashi allowed a tendril of electricity to zip between his fingers and crackle down the edge of his blade, watched as his former student flinched violently for a fraction of a second before she schooled her expression and steeled her grip.

“I don’t need to assume,” he said cooly, tightening his grip on his blade and his own emotions. He allowed his voice to deepen, his gaze to harden as he stared down into her pale, pinched face. “I know exactly who and what you are.”

“Yeah?” she grunted, bared her teeth. The tendons and his wrists began to ache, muscles bunching with strain as she slowly increased the force of her hand. “What am I, then?”

She had been angry since she arrived on the training grounds. But even as she cursed and spit nastiness at him, he knew that she was still restrained. By respect and her own inherent composure. 

He also knew just how to strip that all away.

“Just a civilian girl,” Kakashi whispered, “playing shinobi games.”

When he had pushed Sasuke to his limits, the immediate response was pure, unadulterated rage. Anger that had festered into a pestilence, that carried with it the stench of rotting trees and old blood. He could see in his mind’s eye that way the young boy’s features had twisted like gnarled roots, how his eyes had bled the deepest red. 

 As always, Sakura was different. In the split second after his words filled the air around them, an agonized expression stole across her face, slackened her jaw and pulled her eyes wide until the green pupils seemed like pinpricks in the whites of them. Her breath stalled in her throat, lips trembling and jaw clenching tight.

Within the blink of his eyes he was slammed backward, pain radiating like a vibration to his spine as a crater formed to his shape around him. He twisted his fingers through hand signs furiously, throwing a barrage at ninjutsu in her direction. It bought him a few seconds, just barely long enough to pull himself to his feet unsteadily, lock his knees as she threw herself at him again in a flurry of feet and fists.

“Tsunade’s tricks, as usual,” he grunted, ducking low to avoid a blow he was sure was intended to actually free his head from his shoulders this time. “I suppose you’re a creature of habit.”

The sound that spilled from Sakura’s mouth could only be described as a garbled roar of fury. She kicked up a chunk of earth and launched it in his direction, following up with a veritable storm of kunai that it took more effort to avoid than he cared to admit.

Kakashi was equal parts proud and terrified at her performance.

“What about you,” Sakura shouted, her voice raw and broken. He fought to hear her still, over his thundering pulse.

“Me?” he questioned mildly. He sent a crackle of lightning toward her that ate away at the waist of her clothes, leaving bubbling, burned skin behind.

It was healed, fresh skin covering the area within moments.

She drew closer than anyone who truly knew him dared, and he managed to snag both of her wrists and lock her against him with a kunai pressed to her sternum.

“Friend-killer Kakashi,” she breathed, her breath hot on his face. Sweat tricked in rivulets from her temples, blood crusted at the corner of her mouth. 

Deep inside of him, something ached. But he simply arched his brow, poising himself for the moment Sakura would break his hold, hoping he could avoid losing a limb or more when it happened.

Instead, she only stared. Until both of their breaths began to slow and silence settled like a weight on his back.

“You see her in me, don’t you?” Sakura asked, her voice quiet but piercing in the unnatural quiet around them. 

“Are you ready to end our training session already?” he quipped. “I have quite a large pile of paperwork waiting on my desk.”

“The little civilian girl,” she continued, voice taking on that soft, child-like quality it had that blood soaked night that changed their lives. “One you could not save from a shinobi’s fate. I’m sure it keeps you awake at night.”

“Be careful, Sakura-chan,” he replied in a low voice. “Remember that you asked me for help.”

“Of course I did,” she grinned, and it looked sickly, false. There was no light to be found in her wide, wide eyes. “Because how could you deny me? Poor little Sakura-chan. So much like the friend you lost.”

“Training is over,” he stated. He loosened his grip on her wrists and inhaled deeply before stepping back. “Next time we work on your focus and control of your emotions.”

“Was Rin a deadweight, too?” Just as he turned his back and took the first step away, that name slipping past her lips made him falter. 

“Sakura,” he whispered. “Enough.”

“I’ve thought about it many times,” she sighed, and he heard the shift of her feet over pebbles and upset soil. “Eventually I came to the conclusion that you neglected my development to somehow make up for the ways you failed to protect your teammate. If I never got into a fight, I couldn’t die in one, ne?”

Kakashi began taking tremulous steps forward, determined to leave the training grounds and this twisted turn of conversation behind. He would deal with his so-obviously cracking former student later. He had his own splintering glass to patch over, for now.

“I’m sure you thought you were protecting me,” Sakura raised her voice, her words falling upon his unwilling ears even as he sauntered away. “But did you ever think that instead of keeping me safe, you could have got me killed?”

Guilt burrowed so deep in his bones he struggled to breathe around it. He closed his eyes, unwilling to look into the memories and truth.

“You almost killed me, Kakashi-sensei,” she cried, something like mirth but far darker clouding her voice. 

“I didn’t mean to,” he breathed.

“Kakashi,” a whisper, carried through the wind. His blood froze in his veins. “You killed me.”

Every single one of his muscles locked into place, his heart stalling for a long handful of seconds before resuming at a thunderous, violent pace. His hands shook, knees becoming weak as he toiled to pry his stiffened lips open–

“Kai.”

“You killed me, Kakashi,” the voice whispered again, tremulous. “Why?”

Kakashi’s body jerked, and he clenched his fists, allowing his blunt nails to bite sharply into his palm and uttered the phrase again.

Yet the air did not change, nor his visage of the ruined training ground. His breaths became shallow and a lump lodged in his throat as quiet, tiny footsteps sounded behind him, drawing closer.

“Why did you kill me, Kashi?” she asked. “Aren’t we friends?”

“Stop.”

He flared his chakra, snatched it inward. Fire danced over his knuckles, scalding him and yet–

Wake UP!

“Kashi,” she whispered, voice thick with pain and sadness. “How could you do this?”

As in all of his nightmares, he was helpless and unable to prevent his stiff neck from turning, to avoid the sight of a small girl soaked to the bone in blood, a gaping darkness where her chest should be.

“I’m sorry, Kashi,” Rin whispered. Black marks like diseased veins snaked from the edges of the maw of her wound, up her throat, webbing across her cheeks.

“No,” he rasped.

The scent of blood, pungence of burnt flesh filled his nose and mouth with every gasping breath. He stumbled backwards, clutching at the area above his own wildly beating heart.

The fabric of his shirt stuck to his fingers, and he snatched the hand away, staring blankly at the streaks of red spread thickly from fingertip to forearm, bits of sharded bone and fibrous clumps of flesh clinging to the fine hairs.

He gagged, nearly losing his footing again.

“Why would you do that, Kakashi-sensei?” The sound of Sakura’s voice caused his head to whip upward, but he was once again met with Rin’s small, ruined face.

“Stop this,” he begged. 

“Kaka-sensei,” Sakura whispered.

Suddenly it was her, wide green eyes glossed with tears, pink hair stained with blood and small, pale hands prodding tenderly around the bleeding hole in her chest.

“Why, Kakashi?” she sniffled.

“Why?” Rin echoed, her face flickering over Sakura’s. “Why?”

“Why,” they both whispered, such different voices somehow entangling and becoming one, “did you kill me?”

Kakashi crumbled to his knees, clutching at his ears and shaking his head, unable to free himself from the lilting cacophony of the two voices, questioning and taunting him. They refused to be quieted or drowned out, even when he began to scream. It was as if they had multiplied into a chorus, hundreds of his failures joining to ask him why, why, why-

WHY?

WHY?

“Kakashi-sensei.”

He came to awareness with a violent gasp, back arching upward and sending a bruising ache rattling down his spine.

Sakura gazed down at him, the sunlight forming a halo around her head, lightening her pink strands until her hair resembled more a rose-gold. Sharp rock pressed into the backs of his legs and neck, and an incessant pressure against his chest urged him to look downward.

“Get off,” he croaked.

She moved her foot away from his chest without a word, taking a step away from the crater within which his body was stuffed. He pulled himself up to stand on shaking legs and swallowed his panting breaths.

“A new trick,” she eventually murmured, after minutes of standing by as he struggled to grasp reality. “You told me once that I had an affinity for genjutsu. So.”

Kakashi barked a laugh that burned in his throat. 

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “That you do.”

Finally, he met her eyes. Her expression was blank, her eyes downcast. Not even a tell-tale twitch of her brow or crinkle of her nose cued him into what she could possibly be thinking. 

“Well,” he exhaled, straightening and shoving a hand into the pocket of his pants. His fingers stroked against the edge of his kunai. “You’ve proven your point. See you tomorrow, same time. Have a good day, Sakura-chan.”

As he walked away, in the direction of the Hokage tower, he could feel her stare on his back. The feeling persisted for hours after.

  Give up the ghosts

Sakura peered down at the sleeping Mitokado Homura, still and silent as the dead. It was easy to do so, considering she felt as if her own heartbeat was but a mere illusion. Her focus remained on the rise and fall of a frail chest, the webs of blue-green veins barely visible under paper-thin skin illuminated by moonlight.

A shinobi who had served under the second Hokage, one who had lived at least three shinobi lifetimes, laid so peacefully— face marred with wrinkles of age rather than the horrors of death and murder and generational strife. Sakura did not think it possible for any shinobi to indulge in such a peaceful slumber.

A pale hand, littered with tiny scars and roughened with callouses reached out, fingers fluttering over the pulse thrumming gently in his neck. To his credit, his cloudy eyes snapped open immediately upon the faint contact, but it was already too late.

Fingers crushed around his windpipe, effectively bludgeoning his vocal chords and choking off the exclamation she knew would fall from his lips.

“Shhh, Mitokado-san,” she whispered, hands glowing faintly as she smoothed over the damage she had done to his trachea and esophagus. 

A terrible, wheezing croak slipped from his lips as Sakura moved her hand back, leaving behind a dark, gritty stain.

Then a kunai swung toward her face, but—the poor wretch—it was far too slow. She snapped the wrist holding the blade like a rice cracker and went about hauling the man from his bed and tossing him none-too-gently into the plush armchair at the center of his room.

Planting her hands on thin thighs, she knelt in front of him, fingers dipping deep into the muscles, the tips of them coating with warm, sticky blood.

Homura’s breaths were coming out in frantic pants, his eyes shooting around the room as he squealed and whined helplessly, words shaping intelligibly on his thin, wrinkled lips. For a long moment, Sakura only stared, feeling oddly light and ungrounded as she watched the practically ancient man struggle desperately, numb to the weak blows rained upon her shoulders and head.

“You don’t look like a man who could eliminate an entire community of people,” she whispered eventually. The man froze at the sound of her voice, gaze widening in horror as she withdrew her nails from the flesh of his legs and reached for his face with blood-caked hands.

“I didn’t get a chance to talk to your friend, Utatane-san,” Sakura continued, smearing blood in lazy patterns over his quivering face. “I made it quick, too quick for her. Because I was mad. Shishou would be ashamed that I let my anger control my actions that way.”

“Y-you,” the murderer rasped, voice sounding ripped and warbling. He began choking, unable to say more as red bubbled from his lips.

“I want to talk to you,” Sakura nodded slowly, voice soft. “I want to talk about why you soaked your hands in the blood of innocents, why you ruined Sasuke-kun’s life.”

“Uchiha...not...innocent,” he wheezed and Sakura tilted her head.

“Are you? Innocent?” she inquired. There was no answer as the pressure of her hands increased and with a sickening crack, Mitokado Homura’s jaw crumbled against her palms. 

The sound of his attempted cry of pain was barely audible above the roaring in her ears. One hand fell from his face and the familiar glow of her chakra illuminated his slackened, terrified face for a moment before it condensed into a scalpel that she cut into his side.

“I did this before,” she murmured, pushing her hand into the neat incision, reaching between ribs to wrap her fingers gently around the hot, pulsing organ in his chest, “in the war, to save Naruto’s life. I’m sure you hate the fact that I did that. Like how you hate that we brought Sasuke back, that you weren’t able to execute him. Pity.”

Her grip tightened around the frantically thumping heart in her hand; instead of steady compressions to a still, quiet organ, she mapped the arteries and cavities with her fingers and chakra and after a breath sent a thrum into a particular spot. The chunk of flesh in her grip seized, hardening, misshaping itself before twitching erratically. As the organ struggled to find its rhythm, Sakura noted the convulsing of its cage, glancing up to see the way the old man’s eyes rolled white into the back of his head.

She withdrew her chakra for a split second before it flowed out again from her fingertips, gently guiding the flow of blood to the lungs and brain, calming the erratic twitching of the fickle organ once more.

“Sasuke-kun told me he’s haunted by the ghosts,” she informed, watching as tears flowed thick down her enemy’s face, pooling in the divots and valleys of his worn flesh. “Are you? Do they visit you in your dreams, too?”

She disturbed the flow of her chakra again, clutching the malfunctioning organ as Homura once again thrashed, legs kicking uselessly at her belly, spittle foaming white at the corners of his mouth.

“Do you want to see them, Homura?” Sakura pushed her face close to his as she once again stabilized his heart. “Don’t you want to talk to them about your innocence?”

An otherworldly feeling rose up like a wave in her chest as the frantic, glazed eyes above her suddenly sharpened and began darting about the darkened corners of the room. Faces that were mostly unfamiliar to her, but so very recognizable to him bled out from the shadows, drawing closer, closer still. 

The furnishings of the lavish room fell away, filled to the brim with pale faces framed with pitch-dark hair, glinting crimson eyes floating toward them.

“P-plea-,” Homura choked, a weak hand rising to clutch at his face, bony finger tips catching in the fragile lids framing his wide eyes. “St-st…”

His gaze grew more horrified by the moment as the room filled with the faces of young men, old women, small children, infants cradled in the arms of black-haired ladies with bleeding irises. 

“Look at them,” she breathed, fingers undulating about the slick surface of the heart thundering in her grasp. “Look.”

What would have been a high pitched scream ripped from his throat in the form of a wheezing squeak as the blood-red eyes of his demons fell from their heads, leaving behind gaping darkness in their skulls as they continued to move forward, ever advancing.

“Shh, Homura,” Sakura cooed, reaching up to force his gaze back down to hers. “They can’t hurt you. They’re just ghosts. I am your reckoning.”

Cracked lips gaped in a silent shriek as her once green irises bled red. 

“M-m-monster,” he gurgled.

“I know you are,” Sakura replied, sinking back onto the heels of her feet and holding his gaze, “but what am I?” 

Then she was ripping her hand from the cavity of his chest, blood, bone shard and viscera splashing hot over her cheeks as cloudy brown eyes widened before the light in them faded and his entire body went slack, sinking lifeless into the back of the armchair. 

The taste of iron bit at the tip of her tongue as her lips spread into a crooked smile.

  Forgive me not

Sasuke pretended that his gaze was focused on the tepid cup of tea cradled in his palm when the door creaked open and closed. As if moments before he had not been watching, waiting for it to swing open, for the sound of shuffling footsteps and rustling fabric to reach his ears in the ambience of the night-time hours.

“Okaeri,” he greeted quietly, voice raspier still than he would have liked. More internal wounds to heal from, he supposed.

“Tadaima.”

It was more of a sigh than a response. And so he allowed himself to look toward the doorway, to watch as Sakura trudged further into her tiny living room. She flicked on a lamp, casting the space in a weak, yellow glow. 

“We don’t all have night vision like a cat, Sasuke-kun,” she muttered. Nearly each word was chased by an exhalation, a release of breath that made him wonder if words weighed like burdens on her tongue, too. 

“You look tired,” he stated. His eyes tingled and the room became clearer, if less colorful as he engaged his dojutsu. “Chakra reserves are low.”

“Yeah, well,” she replied stiffly, footsteps pausing for a beat before she shuffled forward slowly. “I have a job. No special house-arrest vacation for me.” 

“Hn.”

Sasuke let the snide comment wash over him, inhaling deeply through his nose and out of his mouth. Had Naruto said it, they might have come to blows. But this was Sakura–she had more than earned the right to tug on his nerves now and again.

“There’s dinner in the refrigerator,” he said softly as she finally swept past him, the scent of antiseptic thick, hints of jasmine seeping through.

“I’m not hungry,” she replied without turning. 

“You must be.”

Her shoulders lifted in a shrug and she did not respond, swaying her way around various obstacles on the path to her bedroom. A low table, a small stack of heavy tomes. The tall, flowering plant that Sasuke watered and clipped every other day to give himself something to do other than sitting and stewing in his own thoughts. It had a strong fragrance, almost cloying, and it made his nose burn and head ache if he spent too much time in proximity to it. But Sakura would smile a little when the flowers looked vibrant. 

When he stepped behind her, she froze, formerly slumped posture overcorrecting as her spine became rigid and her neck stiff.

“I’m not hungry,” she sighed. Sasuke only stared as she rotated slowly, bracing one of her hands on the doorframe leading into her room.

“You’ll sleep better on a full stomach,” he stated. 

“I’m too tired to eat,” she countered. Indeed, her lips parted and jaw elongated on a wide yawn.

“It’s not poisoned.”

Sakura rolled her bloodshot eyes, “I know you wouldn’t poison me, Sasuke-kun.”

“I waited to eat with you.” 

When her eyes finally met his head on, he knew he had won.

“Come on,” she grumbled. 

Her shoulder brushed his chest, just barely, as she stepped around him. Sasuke traced the slope of her shoulders with his gaze, tracking the rhythm of her slow gait as she shuffled to the kitchen. 

Sakura wrenched the fridge open and collected the collection of tupperware, scraping their contents into plates and bowls and shoving them into the microwave in silence. Sasuke stood quietly on the other side of the counter and watched.

“Are you,” she bit her lip, sliding his food toward him, “waiting for me to attack you, or something?”

“What?” he blinked, absently reaching for the chopsticks she had slid across the counter as well.

“You’ve been staring at me with the sharingan since I walked in,” she waved one hand in his general direction. Her chin stayed low, eyes fixed on the food in front of her.

“It scares you?” he asked, blinking again and letting his dojutsu disengage. “Sorry.”

“That’s not what I said,” she mumbled around a mouthful of food, chewing somewhat aggressively. “Just…I don’t understand why you’d use it when you’re at– here, with me.”

Sasuke took his own bite, studying her face as he considered.

“Sometimes I want to see more than I can with regular eyes,” he finally said.

“Hm. Okay,” she muttered. She continued to shovel food into her mouth.

“Are you sure it doesn’t scare you?” Sasuke asked, suddenly unable to take another bite. He set his chopsticks down and opted to swirl his spoon around the steaming bowl to his right.

“Should it?” she asked quietly. Her eyes flitted up to his briefly before focusing lower, perhaps on his chin.

“No.” 

She stared downward, motionless. His fingers tightened around the spoon.

“Then, no. It doesn’t.”

Sasuke stirred his broth some more. Sakura resumed eating and silence blanketed the kitchen again.

“You don’t look me in the eyes when it’s engaged.”

“That’s shinobi 101,” she said briskly, sipping a spoonful of her own broth. “Never look directly in the eyes of someone who has the sharingan. I would do the same with anyone.”

“I’m the only one left,” he whispered.

She stilled, before lowering her spoon with a quiet clack to the counter. Her mouth opened as if she were going to speak, then closed again. 

“You never looked away from it before,” he stated. His fingers tightened around the spoon once more, the metal warming in his grip. 

Sakura glanced up to his eyes again, her full lips turning down a fraction. Then she shook her head, and let loose a quiet laugh.

“The last time I looked into your sharingan,” she said, lips twisted in a rueful smile, “you wrapped me up in a pretty nasty genjutsu, Sasuke-kun.”

An ache settled in his chest and shame washed over his head like an angry tide. He dropped the spoon and dropped her gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped.

“It’s okay,” she said softly. “I forgave you long ago, Sasuke-kun.”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “But your instinct tells you that I’m a threat. I have made you uncomfortable in your own home.”

“Sasuke-kun. That’s not true.”

“You hardly eat,” he replied, voice low. “I hear you awake in your room at night. You spend more hours at the hospital than you are scheduled for to stay away as long as possible.”

“Sasuke-kun…”

He lifted his head, watched as she flinched at the sight of his red iris. A sick feeling swirled in his gut as he let the crimson bleed away.

“It was better for you when I was tied up and blindfolded in the prison. You probably felt safer.”

“Sasuke-kun, please,” she choked. Her palm smacked into the surface of the counter. “Don’t say things like that. Don’t be cruel.”

“I mean it,” he said quietly. “It makes sense that things would be easier when you actually felt safe with me.”

“I’m going to bed,” she said thickly, whirling away from the counter and taking heavy steps toward the exit of the kitchen.

“You never ran from me before, either,” he murmured. Sakura froze midstep.

“I can’t do this tonight, Sasuke-kun,” she breathed, voice barely audible with how she faced away from him. The desperation rang clear yet. 

“I won’t stay here if you’re afraid of me,” Sasuke replied tightly. “I want you to feel safe.”

Sakura remained silent. He stood, the sound of his chair scraping the ground causing her to flinch. 

He decided against approaching.

“Sakura,” he whispered. 

“I can forgive you for anything, Sasuke-kun,” she said quietly, her voice tremulous and so very tired. “Anything. But I can’t forget so easily. I can’t help that my mind clings to certain images and that my body reacts. Call it fear if you want.”

Her head turned slightly, pink tresses shielding the majority of her face.

“Maybe it scares me to sleep under the same roof as the boy who put his hand through my chest in a dream,” she rasped. “But it scares me more to sleep under this roof alone, without knowing you’re somewhere close by. So let me have my fear–let me have you in the only way I can, until I get over one or the other.”

Shame, his oldest friend, clung heavy on his shoulders. It pressed upon his back and caused an ache in his chest, dragging especially on his left-hand side.

“If there was something I could do to take it back,” he rasped, “I would. Doing that to you is the worst crime I have committed.”

“Maybe not the worst,” she muttered. A heavy sigh brought her shoulders up, then down into a slump. “What’s happened, happened. I forgive you, Sasuke. You have to let it go as much as I do.”

Sasuke took a step forward despite himself, despite the way she stiffened. 

“Sakura,” he whispered, drawing closer and daring to touch her arm with the tips of his fingers.

“Sasuke-kun, you can’t take it back,” she whirled and looked at him, chin tilted to stare straight into his eyes. “We both have to live with it. We can't unsee it or undo it; we just have to live with it.”

His lips turned down into a frown, an ache settling between his ribs. 

“I’ll stay with Naruto,” he murmured. “I will leave– tonight.”

Yet his feet remained rooted to the spot, his body looming mere inches from hers. Staring, breathing.

“You won’t,” she whispered. “Not unless I tell you to go.”

“Tell me then,” he replied thickly. “Tell me to go.”

“No,” she breathed. She began shaking her head slowly, blinking as if meeting his eyes was the same as staring straight into the midday sun.

“Don’t let me hurt you more than I already have,” he begged. His hand lifted, drew close, cupped her face just as it turned away.

She slipped free from his gaze and grasp.

“Good night, Sasuke-kun.”

#steel #sasusakufanfiction #sasusaku #sasusakuangst #morally grey sakura #anbu sakura #alternate universe #silentfics #dark content #silent writes #canon divergence #silentvoicescryingout #this shit is gonna be intense #expirimental writing #slow updates #draft #steel chapter 2

[oliver1irl]

Hii i saw your requests are open and i wanted to make one, so the storyline is something like this:

You had a crush on Aiden for a while now but you see how lovingly he looks at Ashlyn and it makes you sad, but you just decide to ignore your feelings and focus on surviving in the phantom realm. But you start to drift away from Aiden and he notices, he tries to talk to you but every time you either ignore him or tell him its not the right time to talk, so he gave up.But one day, while you guys were running to Ashlyn's house to get the keys of her parents Jeep, both you and Ashlyn get dragged by different phantoms, he has to choose between the two of you and you know he would't choose you..

I used a lot of buts sorry for that..

(I need new decor for these)

Reader loves Aiden, and Aiden loves Ashlyn. One day both you and Ashlyn get dragged you knew Aiden wouldn’t choose you

(Idk if its romantic or platonic)

(Oneshot…..Angst, Violence, and blood)

DIALOG COLORS:

Taylor: pink

Aiden: red

Ashlyn: green

You/Reader: Purple

(Ben doesn’t speak but his name with be bold an in blue)

(Logan and Tyler weren't mentioned bc they are to busy doing go knows what)

This part is based on ‘Step on Me by The Cardigans’:

This all started the day you met Aiden, you liked him from the start. . . But Aiden loved Ashlyn, what has she got that you dont? He should be looking at you like that. . . But you started to get much more distant towards everyone, you just gave up on everything. . .You stopped going to class, you stopped sitting next to Aiden, you stopped being. . . you. Ashlyn started to slowly reciprocate his feelings which only served to make you stop hanging out with them, the only time they would see you was when they are transported to the phantom realm. . .

This part is based on ‘Pork Soda by Glass Animals’:

Today in the realm was no different, you were distancing yourself, Aiden and Ashlyn were just talking…And the others were doing god knows what but all you cared about was trying to fix the hole Aiden left in your heart. . . As you and the group are walking out of Ashlyn’s house, both you and Ashlyn get grabbed, Aiden tries to reach for Ashlyn but Ben pushes him and tries to reach for you but your hand slips from his grip. . .You try to fight back from the phantom but it’s no use. . . It took you to the woods.

This part is based on ‘After the Storm by Kali Uchis ft. Tyler the Creator (The lyric ‘If you need a hero, look in the mirror. . . no one gonna save you now so you gotta save yourself’)

The phantom was choking you, you struggled but it was no use. . . You remember that you have a flashlight and shine it in the phantom’s eyes. . . You hear a screech from it and you pick up a rock, then ‘SPLAT’ its head caves in, and the blood splatters everywhere, there was blood all over you but it, not your blood. . . You have no idea where you were but all you knew was that no one was going to save you, you sat down on the ground and started to cry. . .You’re too young to die but too old to cry if that even makes sense. All you wanted was someone to love you, some to care for you like how you care for others. . . You sit there thinking until you hear someone calling your name, Taylor? “[NAME] WERE ARE YOU” You start to make your way over to the voice seeing that it was Taylor with Ben, they were looking for you. . .

You walk over to them and they both hug you. . .

(Moral of this story dont be a dick like Aiden)

(Also this may not be want you wanted but tried)

#aiden clark #aiden sbg #alice fpe #fanfic #sbg (webtoon) #school bus graveyard webtoon #angst with a happy ending #light angst #angst #Aiden is a fucking dick

[clannfearrunt]

im so sorry but i have to ask are Rill and Thresher supposed to make me think season 0 kaiba and yugi I think it's the green hair that does it

the primary inspiration for Rill is absolutely S0 Kaiba and I'm not exactly being subtle about it! However, Thresher is not Yugi in any way whatsoever.

Thresher is based on a character concept I wanted to follow through on since 2019 before I ever watched Yugioh and doesn't really have an existing character in other media I can really point to as a comparison point or specific point of inspiration. I actually almost scrapped their concept entirely because when Splat 3 came by and had Shiver be a shark themed Octoling I was like FUCK they got to it first!!! People are gonna think I'm immediately ripping off a canon character!! But I got over it because who gives a shit, I was here first, and it's not actually very similar to what I was wanting to do anyways

Then about a year after I actually made Thresher into a proper character I caved to my dark desires of "I want to play with that cabbage freak in this other setting and see what he mutates into" and the only character I had lying around to throw him at happened to be Thresher.

The biggest inspiration for how Thresher deals with Rill has been a hawk I saw once sitting on a house roof ignoring a tiny ass songbird that was repeatedly dive-bombing it and bouncing off of it without doing any visible damage. I'm being completely serious this was the funniest thing I've ever seen

Anyways point is I think the biggest trap people fall into with these 2 is that they see a Kaiba and assume that there's going to be a Yugi somewhere to match when in reality I made these two completely independently of each other whoops

#asks #introverted-trashcan #the only other character i can think of rn that is like The Archetype that Thresher is is one of my Skyrim ocs #Kjul 2!!!!! #wait fuck that was supposed to be a joke did I make my dovahkiin again. fuck. Kjul 2 #Squid 2 the evolution of the squid #Rill Nykur #Thresher Lagan #anyways Kaiba is the character ever and Toei's version in particular is SUCH A GUY EVER and while i do enjoy his relationship with the Yugi #im not interested in that enough to want to explore it outside of Actual Yugi/s vs Actual Kaiba #i wanted to use s0 kaiba as a chargen seed and toss him around in a new environment and see what happens #ok listen i ship yugi with several people none of which are kaiba do u think im going to start now with proxy characters

[ask-sebastian]

*A silent hiss followed by whispering suddenly echoed through the room. You couldn't understand it, for the words sounded like some kind of ancient language, but they clearly came from the ominous devil's-pickle!

More and more juice began to drip down from the pickle onto both of you, and then… the pickle fell silent and the dripping stopped.

The both of you could hear a loud crack, and the pickle suddenly began to split itself in half! Slimy strands stretched between the two halves, and its green, mushy insides were revealed. The green menace let out a shrill scream, similar to that of a banshee, and both halves floated down to you and William at a rapid pace, smacking the both of you right in the face with a loud, juicy SPLAT!

However, the pickle slices didn't fall off. It almost seemed as if they had attached themselves to your faces.*

Sebastian caught the glove as the room filled with a jumble of incoherent whispers. He strained his ears, grimacing and swiping at the distracting, foetid goo sliding down his neck with the back of his hand. Though just as soon as the whispers were there, they were gone. Replaced with a foreboding silence–more felt than heard, pressing in against him as if the air was sucked from the room. 

His breath hitched in his throat and dread crept across his skin in a trail of gooseflesh. He instinctively toed closer to Will, but before he could whisper any sort of plan of attack, a loud crack and piercing shriek shattered the silence. 

Sebastian doubled over, glove and wand falling to the floor as he pressed his hands over his ears in a feeble attempt to block out the bone-jarring sound. He dropped to his knees, trying to ignore the pain in his ears as his hands scrabbled across the floor in search of his wand. His tremulous fingers closed around the handle and he quickly cast another lumos, aiming the light up. Horror etched across Sebastian’s features as the pieces hurtled towards them–the wizard’s protego all too slow–and the force with which half of the cold, muculent menace connected with his face knocked him flat on his back and sent him skidding across the floor.   

“Eurgh!” Sebastian's breath heaved from both the fall and exertion as he frantically slapped and shoved at his cheek in a desperate attempt to dislodge it. It only suctioned harder against his face, slime streaming over his neck and shoulder with a vengeance and soaking through his robes. He shuddered with disgust, and in a fit of desperation (with the silent hope not to maim himself), he pressed his wand tip against the throbbing pickle and shouted, “Relashio!”

With a flash of purple sparks and a blast of soured slime, Sebastian felt it forcefully release from his face. There was a loud, wet splat across the room, though he didn’t see where it landed. Not that he cared much, as he was too preoccupied with gathering his senses enough to aid @ask-elland-n-will.

“Will!” he shouted into the darkness as he scrambled up, lighting his wand once again as he searched out the other wizard.

#picklepocalypse #will #hl rp #will edit previous responses because I've switched POVs and tenses a few times and it will drive me mad if I do not make it consistent

[thatwasntverycashmoneyofme]

𝗂𝗆 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒

❥𝗌𝗇𝗂𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗍 : 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎. (𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍)

{ 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 — 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖼𝗈𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝗆𝖺𝗃𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁, 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗀𝗇𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝗄𝗎 𝖿𝗂𝖼 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝖽𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀. }

“I don’t wanna leave you…” you look at him trying to stay calm for your sake, focusing on the blood that leaked from his forehead. “I can’t…not right now..not now.” you give a grim smile holding his hand in both of your tightly “i know.”

tears now streamed down his face mixing in with his blood and if it were under different circumstances— under any other circumstance, you might even say it beautiful, the way the crimson color swirled intricate designs in his teardrop’s wake. “i wanted to be there for them… we were supposed to watch them grow up together, take care of them together.”

ooh yea the main reason you weren’t slinging yourself across the hospital floor acting a fool, forcefully yelling at every doctor, nurse, receptionist and hell even janitor to fix your husband, no wait scratch that, fiancé lest they see what your wrath is really capable of, is because you were 6 months pregnant, with twins, hopping just along your third trimester. you tried not to stress yourself out because you had complications earlier in your pregnancy, but how can you really do that with a hero as a partner? i mean look at the situation now.

“i know.” you bring his hand up to your forehead, holding it there for a few seconds before bringing it to your trembling lips, kissing the rough bloodied limb, trying to exhale away all your doubts and just live in this moment with him while you can.

he lets out a groan of pain and annoyance from your two worded answers, it made your heart crack. “please y/n say something—anything else please.” you didn’t even have to think of what to say, tears rushed to fall, you knew you were going to have a major headache for keeping them in. “i love you…so much, more than anything.”

you feel his body shake as he tried to laugh through the pain. “that’s just what i needed to hear sweetheart.. c-can you stand up for me.” and who were you to ignore a man’s dying wants? so you did. “i wanna feel ‘em ‘fore my hands give out.” you nod a small sound of agreement croaking from your trembling lips, putting his hand on your rounded belly, voice cracking and he notices.

“hey there squirts, daddy’s gonna be gone for a bit but I’ll be around all the time. I love both of you and your mommy always, death can never take that from me…” he hears your sniffles, trying not to speak of the elephant in the room before continuing. “..try not to give your mom a hard time as much as you can, but always always smother her with your love, cuz she’s gonna need it…”

he trails off, breath ragged as he feels your stomach moving around, making him let out a wry laugh and you follow along with him, disregarding the discomfort. “at least they’re good listeners… y/n?” he pauses watching you take a seat, your feet aching already from the walking, waiting, and slight speed walking you had to do to get here.

you hum letting him know he had your attention, as if he could ever lose it in these moments— his final moments, especially with the seemingly loud beeping of the green digital monitor that was over his head, it made everything feel so much more permanent, more finalized. “yes kiri.. a-anything.”

“take care of them enough— love them enough, for both of us, they’re kids so they’ll probably ask about me a lot and i want them to know about me from all angles, so don’t be scared to ask for help from our families and our friends, not just when it’s about me but when it’s for them, they’ll help you.” he coughs, you could see the blood droplets splatting on his face, he looked at you with the same beautiful crimson eyes that you fell in love with, now dimming, you never knew you could dislike a color more in that moment.

“you’re so beautiful, do you know that.” you scoff, smile playing on your lips at his smooth talking ways. “I want you to take my ring, right now..” your eyes widen, breath getting caught in your throat. “..take it. wear it on a necklace until the kids get older then have it cut in half and made into two necklaces to give to them.”

you grabbed his left hand that sat in his lap limply taking off the big sliver band and putting it on where your ring sat, watching it slide down your finger, sitting on top of yours showing just how big your fiancé’s finger was compared to your own.

the weight of the situation made you want to throw up your food and go back to this morning, and beg him to stay cuz the babies wanted to spend time with him and he would’ve stayed. he wouldn’t have even walked out the door in the morning, he would’ve canceled his shift, but you didn’t, so he didn’t.

now you’re here sitting in a hospital on the side of your dying lover, pregnant with his twins. you come out of your stupor when you felt a hand grab yours, squeezing it with as much pressure as he could. “don’t do that doubting stuff.” he always did know when you were going through the motions. you looked at him to find that his tears never stopped and his signature smile appeared on his face.

the same one he’d use when around the people he’s saving while he’s hurt and in pain, to let them think he’s got this and he’s not gonna back down, as he spoke in a shaky voice. “i don’t wanna l-leave you..” the beep of the monitor blaring in your ears making you look at it the line bouncing lowly across the screen, the grunting of the black rooted redhead brings you out of that trance.

“y/n can you say it again? tell me you love me… i need to hear you say it please… please.” you nod the tears welling up in your eyes. “I love you so so so much kiri, my heart can’t take it, me and the babies love you so much.” he lets out a heavy sigh small smile gracing his scrunched face, “…thank you…” the monitor line rapidly jumps one last time as he rubs his thumb across your knuckles, the sensation ghosting you sending shivers down your spine, before a constant beeping bled into your ears.

his warm hand that used to caress your face to wake you in the mornings or tickle you when you got aggravated at something, just to make you laugh for him, now laid cold on top of your own. the doctors that left you privacy in your final moments now rushed in the room, they would’ve thought you to have orchestrated his death as they watch you stay quiet, blank eyes staring straight ahead, had there not been streams of tears flowing down your rounded face and the bump that protruded from underneath your shirt.

they worked around you silently unhooking him from the machines, they pause going rigid when you rise from your seat, squeezing his hand before slipping yours away. the ‘clacking’ of your sandals hitting the floor as you left the room, not looking back. your blank face facing forward as you open the door, being greeted to a group of people, their faces full of tears and devastation.

a tall black haired woman with tan skin rushed to you, the tears in her red eyes reminding you of what you just lost as she wrapped her arms around you, making every wall you built up come crumbling down as you finally let out your cries.

if the groups’ heart wasn’t broken then it is now as they hear your wails, watching as you cling to your lover’s mother, giving them the answer to the question they wish they didn’t have to ask.

𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗆 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌, 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌. 𝖣𝖮𝖭𝖳 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅, 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒 𝗈𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾. ©𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗒𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖺𝗅

#city.writes #black writers #black reader #black fem reader #x black fem reader #x black reader #black yn #kiri x black!reader #kiri x black fem!reader #city writes sad shit just this once😘✌🏾 #like part 3 or sum shit💁🏾‍♀️ #mha kirishima #bnha kirishima #kirishima eijirou

[maxillis]

The hardest part is remembering that the heat on your skin is only a memory. You can try to take it from there, if you want, but instead you focus on water; something cool, something comforting, before you turn to something harder to soothe out the muscles that ache from two marathons—one of endurance and another of fortitude.

The heat rises from your chest to your face, where a sturdy bump on your forehead is threatening to grow. Still, it hurts less than the sight of a little girl stuck in an active Cressidium war zone. You know you’ll see her gift to Alaska in FACTORY-RESET’s cockpit by your next deployment, whenever that is.

Best to clear your mind for now—or fog it away, given how many drinks you find yourself taking from quite the unassuming bartender. They don’t recognize you in the slightest. This is another comfort you don’t take for granted; the prosocollar around your neck masks your true voice, and your paranoias about eavesdropping or confrontation die. You haven’t said anything incriminating, but you’ll be damned if you take a step out of your mech that isn’t calculated. And this stress, this constant vigilance, metastasizes.

You’re drinking with a man, you realize. He’s dripping blood on the floor and the noise is only unbearable to you. Quietly, splat, splat, he drips, not yet glancing over. His glass raises between you, waiting to meet your drink with a cheers. In clear defiance, you refuse to raise your hand to the red-stained glass.

It bleeds onto you, crimson on your palms and under your nails. You don’t blink away the consequences of what you’ve done, not even when you feel droplets drying in your hair. You continue to drink, ignoring the metallic taste that you know isn’t alcohol. It doesn’t make a difference to you.

“That’s fine. You don’t have to look. It’s only us.”

It’s something that man, that son-of-a-bitch in the specter would have never said, you're sure. The only words out of him before had been “kys” and you hold little belief that he had anything nicer to add after the fact of his death. It couldn’t be him that came to drink with you tonight.

Before you know it, you are looking up at the seat next to you, searching for what you are certain to hear next.

He’s gone.

You tell yourself to forget the first time you heard those words, and the second time, and the third. It's been a long time since you were young, green, and unsure. Back when you couldn't bear to look, you always had someone to look for you, to charge ahead, or to take a life. Still, the memory of sickness and disgust reviles you. 

The taste in your mouth is your own blood, as it turns out. You've been biting your tongue for the better part of two minutes in the best interest of not freaking out every person you're drinking near, or saying something to your own bodied memories that you might regret. You take your drink to the end of the bar before the bartender can think you look too sick to hang around. 

We all learned it from the best, you think. We as in a long-gone squadron, as in a colony home in ice-ring orbit, as in a family of people who are carried on by the only one remaining. This is why you accept the clap on your shoulder, the memory reverberating with a "Well done!" that you couldn't misunderstand if you tried. You did well today. You've always done well, even when you didn't. And like a school game between children, you were the last to look, so it's only fitting you'd be the one to carry it all home. He says it again to make sure you heard it full and well.

“That’s fine. You don’t have to look. It’s only us.”

There is no us anymore. Just like there is no we, and truthfully no you.

⤝⦽⤞ What secrets do you know?

You shoot him cold between a double-barrel and a pillow. You don’t even blink. But, you do sit with him, still caught in whatever celestial dream that turned out to be his last, as you pat his knee.

“Well done.” It is the only thing you can bring yourself to say. For a long time, you cannot, cannot, look away. In your heart you know that it’s only a matter of time before someone comes in to check on the noise, yet you remain there, and when the door inevitably opens—

Pop. Your shotgun flies up to the headline of the now-open door frame, and another body hits the floor. You don’t look at this one, your gaze still fixed on the man in blissful sleep. It isn’t how he would have wanted to go out, being put down like a dog. That was how they wanted him dead. Not you, but that person who owns the shotgun you grip with white knuckles, cocking back and launching a pretty red shell onto the bed. The dead man catches it with his cheek.

You look at him instead of the other corpse that regrets joining you.

“You don’t have to look,” the dead man says. He’s looking at you and he’s trying, somewhat, to smile. It all comes up cracked skin and blue veins. “It’s only us.”

You swallow your heart down your throat, but it all comes back up.

Standing at attention in front of your Field Commander only seems easy because of the mental preparation you have bounded through on the ride from the dropship, back to your base. The noise of your shotgun still rings in your ears. You don’t realize that your team has left you until you hear the door close; the disorientation is not letting up, only staved for now by the red-hot brand of your former Lieutenant’s medallion-lined jacket in your hands. You’re keeping it as a souvenir. You hold on for dear life, like this alone can keep you from falling over. It’ll work well enough for now.

“You’ve done excellent work this week.” In all your months of working with this company, you’ve never received such praise. From anyone else, it’s a praise that might even be received warmly. Work had been agonizingly slow; intel was hard to come by and politics kept you from blazing your guns for longer than you ever felt comfortable. In the end, the very person that you had been searching for had been the one who kept you closest. You can’t ration it into a victory.

Atop your Field Commander’s desk is a large metal suitcase, closed and facing you. She continues to ignore it as she speaks to you with gusto and a smile so kind that any fool too trusting might think her to be an angel—she knows, and you are grateful, that you are no regular fool. The smile won’t hit her eyes.

“I can only commend you for eliminating our…old friend. Plenty of people in this building wouldn’t have the guts.” Not like your guts, she means, but you do remember how you spewed them all over the old motel room and opt to keep that part to yourself. It isn’t like the cleaners would say shit. “I’m not sure how long he was planning on staying alive, though, as long as he kept giving you his keys.” 

What else can you say?

“I’m not sure either, ma’am.”

It seems to satisfy her well enough. She hums, nods, and seemingly decides that she isn’t making too big of a gamble by passing on this gift. What a mistake it would turn out to be, but for now she is the one in blissful unawareness.

When the suitcase pops open, a snow-white shotgun glares your reflection back at you. The truth is, you don’t look like you’ve just come back from killing your closest companion, the only other living legacy, other than you, of a galactic disaster that everyone else forgot—you’re smiling, softly.

“I’m glad you can appreciate a weapon worth admiring.” Her voice grates down on you. You’re certain she’s aware. Knowing her, she could smell it like a shark in the water.

“Thank you.” When your voice catches, you pass it off as pure admirance for the craftsmanship. It is a gun you could put on a wall or display in a case, glistening and smooth, certain to catch the eye. A closer look would tell you that it’s a working shotgun just the same. “Was this custom-made?”

“Without a doubt. She’s all yours. I shouldn’t have to tell you to watch out for the recoil on this one, right?”

You only pause for a moment. It’s enough time to remember the red shell hitting your dead Lieutenant's cheek, and the sure feeling that he would wake up to ask, fuck was that for?

You wonder if you should kill her now, judging the weight of this new model in your grasp. You don’t care that the dirt from your hands leaves prints and smudges. The pride must come from the intense amount of cleaning that would be necessary for this weapon to keep its luster. You know you aren’t wasting a second of your time on anything that isn’t gun oil.

You have hesitated too long to do what you want to. Your following answer is mechanical.

“No, ma’am.”

“Stellar. I’m expecting you at 700 hours tomorrow. You’re dismissed, Lieutenant. ”

It’s the first thing to hurt you since you left the ice.

⤝⦽⤞ Where is the rest of your team?

What do you wanna be? I dunno, I kinda wanna fly one of those airships. You know, the big ones. The ones with a bunch of cargo? You wanna be a space trucker?! Maybe I do! I could just go out and fly until the end of the galaxy. They’d pay me good. Come on, that can’t be all you care about. Stupid. You’re not gonna get anywhere if you’re not making money! I’d rather hang out all day. Why work out there when we could just stay here? You can’t hate me so bad that you’d run out of the galaxy. …Nah. I’d come back. I know you would. You’d miss all this! 

When he threw his arms out, you laughed, and you punched him square in the chest.

Ow! Fuck was that for? I have more than just you to miss. Fine. I won’t take all the credit. I’ll just take most of it. You can have a solid five percent of the credit. If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were saying you loved me. 

When you wake up, your head is throbbing in more than one place. You go through your memories for over an hour in the bathtub; how you got to the bar, who you were with, how you ended up leaving—not everything comes back. The man from the specter does.

I’m ripping your spine inside out. If you say it loud enough in your head he has to hear it, right? If you get angry enough, if you kill him with enough blood and luxury to satisfy a king, he has to appreciate it more than being executed in his sleep, right? If he knows the person doing the killing, if he can look in their eyes and give one final scream, then it would be better than dying a coward’s death, wouldn’t it?

You storm out to your closet, to the pockets of your Lieutenant’s old jacket—the one you still wear everywhere you go—and you pull a long, metal chain from the breast pocket. It jangles as it hangs from your hands, and even more when you unclasp it.

You’re grateful no one else was in that cockpit with you. You ripped that pilot’s tags straight from his neck and shoved them in your pocket when you pierced through his heart. 

Coward’s death or otherwise, there are certain things you would chase to the end of the galaxy. Your anger, for one. Your past, for another.

His tags join the collection you’ve amassed. You can’t count how many names you’ve stolen (though you could, if you could manage to rifle through all of their names)—or how many bodies were probably buried unnamed, or who might've been lucky enough to be found by their family. What does it matter, when there’s no one left to remember yours? 

You return the chain to the jacket's left breast pocket. The pilot from the specter claps your shoulder. Instead of saying the only thing you believe you’ll be hearing next, he kisses you.

Then, there is nothing. You are alone.

You feel that, in a world where your luck is dictated by dice, you’ve come up snake eyes.

#circe #2nd person #2.1k #lancer rpg #cd-roms #themes include murder / survivors guilt / hallucinations / alcohol consumption #my dm and bestie made a joke about a hypothetical nat 1 after our session and my brain went fucking bonkers dude #also us both going 'this is absolutely not the first time circe has done this' #circe was already a sole survivor when i thought of their very not-planned background but god what is it with me and sole survivors. #something something 'we are never truly gone' is sometimes a horror story something something

[m0llygunn]

i was sorting through my wips and i know some of them are going to be permanently abandoned, but i still want to share them. so, im starting with this one. its just under 2k words, is sci-fi-y, and was suppose to be dystopian future-esque and surrounds the ghost in the machine theory/mind body dualism theory (ew gross philosophy gross ew) the only content warning is that it will never be finished lol if you want to adopt it feel free

Zeros and ones— binary code. A thing of the past. Ancient relic if you will. 

Whoever built this system believed in the past, evidently. The whole premise is bringing no-names back to life. Taking their consciousness and loading it into a new body. The Ghost in the Machine. 

Obviously, you understand that’s not the expanse of the project. This is just the story they feed to you. You have no doubt that if this project was ever completed it would have been used for the worse. It’s essentially making zombies, bringing people back from the dead, but instead of flesh and blood, it’s technology and artificial intelligence. 

Every line of zeros and ones that you read effectively decimates your ability to care though. This project’s not going to work, and your brain is quickly deteriorating— alongside your will to exist.

Years dedicated to science, years invested into the brain, technology, and studying artificial intelligence. Nearly half your life, and this is what you have to show for it, a low tier secret sector government job. Typing in hopeless code that, even if it did work, all the credit would go to your team lead, Dr. Miller— who, for the record, has not been in office for the last two weeks. Sure, your sector is highly ignored and on its way to extinction, but you’d think he’d at least have some integrity in his job. 

Using your hands to push yourself back from the desk, your chair scratches loudly against the floor. Your morning’s abandoned cup of coffee, cold and bitter, threatens to breach the rim of the cup. The mood you’re in, you almost dare it to. In fact, you go far enough to look up at the ‘No Food or Beverages' sign pasted above the monitor and send it a challenging look— one you’re sure would convince any watching eyes that you have indeed lost all sense of sanity. 

The room settles, all coffee contained into your mug, and you turn, heading straight for the break room. 

“Shit,” you curse. Nearly a year in this building and you still forget the fact that you need your keycard to do anything, even to just get out of a room. 

You walk back over to your desk, catching a glimpse of the very impressive storm going on outside your small window. 

Bending down under your desk, you debate if asking the technician if it would be possible to essentially move the whole room 4 feet to the right so that you could look out the window while you code. Shuffling through your bag, you decide that it’s a stupid idea, the project is sure to be scrapped in the next few months, so that’s just extra work on his plate for no reason. As soon as you grip the electronic card in your hand, the room illuminates in bright white light coming from the window. 

Lightening. 

You go to stand, but as soon as you do, the crack of thunder vibrates through the room, making you jolt in surprise. You hit your head, and to make matters worse the sound of a splat of liquid above you is then followed by slow trickling. 

“No,” you gasp. “No, no, no,” you chorus, standing from your crouch. 

Milky coffee is spread from letter to letter, all across the keyboard and spills backwards into the computer. The monitor vibrates and buzzes, pixelated zeros and ones all melding together. 

“Fuck,” you curse. “Shit, no.” Grabbing your sweater from your seat, you try dabbing the spilt coffee of the hardware. 

In your debacle, you hadn’t noticed the way the room lit up in flashing hues of fluorescent green. The source of light is at the back of the room. The Blanks Machine— an asset to your project that resembles a large steel vault.

The Blanks Machine is much like a printer, but regards a photocopier with beaming lights that pass over and over the human-like bodies of the Blanks. It operates quickly— theoretically of course, it’s never been successful. If it were to be successful, the process would be done in mere seconds. It would be truly remarkable— to send a lifetime of thoughts, experiences, memories, as well as replicate neuron per neuron data into the brain of the Blank. Remarkable, and that’s why it has never been done. That’s why the coding has never worked, it’s a near impossible thing. For everything to click together perfectly and then be translated into a Blank… impossible— until now.

You dab the coffee a final time before decidedly picking up the whole keyboard and tipping it upside down, coffee spilling all over your desk dripping out from under the keys. You try to do the same with the rest of the parts but it’s hopeless. 

“Fuck,” you nearly whimper. You’re fucked. Your job is done for. 

The computer screen blinks bright red, something you’ve never seen it do before and it makes your eyes start to water. A chime comes from the back speaker, reminiscent of an old school typewriter. Then everything goes black and the static of electricity dies completely, leaving you in total silence. 

“Fuck,” you say a final time in defeat. You sit back on the floor, bringing your knees upwards and resting your hands on your ankles. Your eyes go unfocused in the dark of the room. 

You’re sure that at any moment someone will come searching for the source of the power outage you just caused. 

You’re sure you’re moments away from getting absolutely annihilated. You wouldn’t be surprised if they came in with loaded guns— this is the government after all, they can do whatever they want. 

You’re sure you—

“Hello?” an unfamiliar voice calls out from behind you and you freeze. 

“What the fuck?” the voice says quietly, like it was meant for only them. 

You turn your head to the door. Focusing your eyes in the dark as best as you can, it’s still closed. 

You hear shuffling behind you. 

No. 

You hear steps.

No fucking way. 

You hear clambering before the ping of a dense mass hitting metal loudly rings out in the room.

“Jesus H. Christ,” the voice curses, sounding pained. 

The voice belongs to a man, one who sounds on the younger side. Slowly moving to your knees, you reach forward feeling for your bag. When you find it, you run your hand along the front until you find the seam of the pocket that houses your phone.

You lift it, and the glow of the screen lights up the room.

“Hey!” the man calls out again, followed by more shuffling. 

You quickly lock the screen as your stomach drops. Just as you thought, the voice is coming from inside the Blanks Machine.

“I know you’re out there, what is this?” he shouts.

He sounds angry. You push to your feet, silently standing. Your heart pounds in your chest and your knees practically wobble.

“Seriously? I never asked for this— just let me go.”

You swallow, trying to bring moisture to your dry mouth. Clutching your phone to your chest, you take a deep breath.

“What’s your name?” you ask, voice sounding timid as a mouse.

“My name? Are you kidding?” he laughs derisively.

“Yes, your name.” You try to swallow your nerves away. 

“Eddie, now let me out.”

“Eddie?” you whisper, trying to mentally rifle through the roster of Ghosts that were saved in the project files. The Ghosts that the government have on file date all the way back to the ‘50s, there’s got to be at least a thousand Eddies— Edwards, Edwins, Eduardos. 

“Is this a sick joke? I get torn to fucking shreds by bats and now you have me in a cage?”

“Bats?” Shredded by bats… that might narrow it down. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he groans, and the metal of the door clanks under his pounding on the interior wall.

“Okay, hold on,” you rush out, moving to the door of the machine. “Just stand back, they’ll be a puff of air— it’s just air so, um… don’t worry,” you say, shaking your head out of embarrassment. You never expected this to work, therefore you never thought of what you’d have to say if it did work. 

“Air— cool,” Eddie says, sounding both bored and annoyed. 

You take the silver cross of the wheel handle in your hands. Pushing your full body weight into your movements, you spin it, slowly turning the mechanism. The puff of air emits, blowing your hair back gently and making you blink. 

You pull the door back slowly, using your body weight once again to help move the heavy steel. When it’s open, you step back. 

“You… you can come out,” you say timidly. 

You didn’t know what to expect. Anything could have walked out. Anything at all. He could have been quite literally still a Blank, an all white mannequin that had now gained the ability to think and talk. He could have been a generic human, just eyes, nose, ears, and a mouth. He could have been anything. 

The clank of chains followed by the barely visible image of a man appears in front of you. He’s taller than you, 5’10, maybe 5’11, slender, long wavy hair. It’s hard to make out his features in the dim light of the room, but he’s not just a Blank, he’s not just a generic human, he’s loaded to look exactly as he had looked in his life. Remarkable. 

You speak, you introduce yourself, you say more words, but your mind is elsewhere. It worked. It was successful. 

“Hello?” Eddie says, stepping closer to you, waving a hand to get your attention. 

“Sorry— I was just thinking.”

“What is this?”

“Uh— it’s called a Blanks Output Machine, it’s peripheral hardware— simplified, it’s a printer… kind of— not really. 

“Not really?”

“Well, it does a lot more than just printing. It, uh, it basically transfers recorded human consciousness onto a Blank,” you say leaving out most of the complex details. Eddie still looks at you, riddled with confusion. 

“Why was I in there?”

“You were in there… because… um— Eddie?” you pause looking at him. 

“What?”

“What year is it?”

“1986?”

“It’s not 1986.”

──────────── ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

#eddie munson #abandoned wips

[paranatellonta]

Summer Salad

I made the mistake of leaving the window open while I was tossing the pasta salad. The scent of fresh herbs engulfed me, and before I knew it, a tall creature had crept into my home, body and face both hidden in large flaps of loose clothing in every possible shade of brown. Ignoring—or perhaps not hearing—my protests, the figure stalked towards the kitchen counter and dug its long claws into the pot. It lifted its hands and let the slick goodness of fusilli and salad leaves run between its fingers, allowed it to fall down its arms and to the floor tiles with a wet splat. Outside, a storm was brewing, sending cherry tomatoes and mozzarella balls into a juggling act as wild as the whirling thoughts in my head. Somehow, olives crunched between the creature’s teeth like crisp bug shells. Soundtracking itself with Dionysian groans, it emptied the pot of pasta salad, and then continued to lick every last drop of oil off its wrists, its elbows, its shoulders.

It was still hot. A moist 25°C stuck my shirt to my back. But everywhere, autumn was creeping in on the green of nature—even in my pot of pasta salad.

—

[Image description: Close-up of a colourful pasta salad in a metal pot. The salad includes lettuce, basil, olives, tomato pieces, and mozzarella.]

#pasta salad #seasons #autumn #changing seasons #slipstream #photography #flash fiction #food #summer salad #362