#its so... hard watching all the hate thrive

[skrmbrks]

i wish for peace in our lifetime, i wish for love to seep into every crack of this planet, i wish for it to penetrate every heart and soul. i wish for brutality to face its end, i wish for evil to turn to light. i wish for us to create such a place where cruelty cannot resurface. i wish for communities without borders, i wish for human and nature to be reunited by love and protect each other.

[headspace-hotel]

some times i see people talking about the Earth and climate change saying things like "now i know it is difficult to deal with utter hopelessness, terror, and visiting the thoughts of death"

and it's like wow I am so deeply sorry about the suffering. but...concern. Concern. Tell me, am I missing something important? Why do I feel a sense of hope for our planet? Am I a lonely fool? Have I been consumed by naïveté and misguided optimism?

That would be weird. It feels weird. It feels like I would be well suited to despair. My natural temperament is Mortal Terror making my body crushed for a thousand years at the bottom of the deepest trenches of the ocean. I've thought before "I can't live any more. This exceeds the tensile strength of the human spirit."

And then? After irreversible catastrophic failure of the soul, there is...what?

We try to imagine the future where we fight to save our home and it is very painful. The resistance feels so small and the machine of death feels so vast. But something's missing.

Everyone else is missing—the plants, trees, bugs, beasts, and creatures. Hello? Are the other humans seeing this? Nature wants you to know that she is not a princess in a tower. Look! Look at the chaos moving through every cell! Iterating! Adapting! Becoming! Thriving! Watch the pollinators tirelessly at work, observe the mycorrhizal network in the forest floor distributing the rich fruits of decay and photosynthesis for every inhabitant! Pay attention! We belong here too. They feed and shelter us, give us the very air we breathe, and in return we plant and propagate, cull, thin, and burn, shape, trample, till, shepherd and sprout seeds. Our species can look toward the future, to the world of our descendants. We can call every plant and animal by name and teach our children to use and care for them responsibly. We can feel this anger, pain, and grief on behalf of the family of Life, OUR family, and we can love the smallest beetle and the humblest moss.

Look at it! This thing is nothing like me, it does not benefit me, it has no use or purpose for me, but LOOK at it! Look at its intricate structure! Look at the marvelousness of its behaviors and biological functions! Look at its uniqueness throughout the whole universe! Look at it, and see its infinite value!

I saved a baby tree from the scorching hot gravel of a parking lot. I watched it grow and thrive in the hands of its caretaker. Many more followed, trees and herbs and flowers, rescued and carefully placed in cups and old tubs that once held yogurt and sour cream. This is so strange, I thought. They're everywhere, offering themselves for free, and no one thinks to take them. Everyone thinks transplanting a tree is hard and that nothing grows on the edge of the pavement but weeds. But it's so easy??? This is weird. Plant Nurseries Hate Her: Get Free Plants With This One Weird Trick.

I protected an old barren garden patch where nothing had thrived from being mowed and weed-whacked, and transplanted little plants that I found. I marveled at the bees that came. Chicory bloomed, then asters and goldenrod. I shed actual tears over a spicebush swallowtail. I ordered some milkweed from the internet, and the monarchs came for them. Less then twenty-five bucks for a divine experience like this. Wow, everyone else really needs to know!

I started volunteering at a nature center, and was allowed to transplant flowers where they sprouted in inopportune locations. I collected tons of seeds all fall and winter long.

There is much, much more, all of it bigger than I ever would have imagined. But this spring there were more birds, in number and in species, than I'd ever seen in my back yard before. Chickadees, swallows, finches, nuthatches, jays, cardinals, warblers, sparrows, woodpeckers of every kind...I remembered just a couple years prior when all I ever saw out there was a couple grackles or starlings or robins, with the occasional sparrow. Those birds come in flocks rather than couples now. And then the bumblebee arrived. An American bumblebee, endangered now, a queen. For a few days she was always out there, would fly out and buzz around me when I came out to tend to my now-innumerable plants. It's nesting time for them. She chose this place I was creating. She saw that this place would take care of her.

A week ago, I discovered wild strawberries growing in my Mamaw's driveway. I found lyreleaf sage growing beside a gravel road. I've become a master of transplanting; I took several of each home. Yesterday, I saw a tiny, metallic blue bee, an Osmia mason bee. Today, I saw an oriole and a strange, very fancy fly. I see something new almost every day. Every day I am being irreversibly changed as a person. How did I ever fail to see how much this matters?

I said I feel hope...do I feel it? I don't think it's a feeling, I think it's a practice. It's being part of our communities and our ecosystems. Nature's interconnectedness is both reality and example: to survive, we take care of one another. And when one member of the community helps another thrive, it creates a cascade that increases the thriving of all. Just by existing, you help us all survive.

You can only take care of so many plants before you have to give some away. You can only hold so much knowledge before you have to give it away. I gave seeds to a dozen different flowers to my next-door neighbor and she invited me inside and wouldn't let me leave without food, and we talked about plants and trees. A family friend lets me have goats' milk and heirloom vegetables in exchange for help around the farm, and I listen to him talk about trees, bugs, and soil and learn so much I feel like I'm about to explode from knowledge.

Being a caretaker is unavoidably a community-oriented, community-forming thing. You can't grow plants all by yourself. Your garden will make too many tomatoes. Share them. Your milkweed will make hundreds and hundreds of seeds. Spread them. Wild blackberries invite you to take and eat. Your lonely retired neighbor invites you to talk and keep her company. Once you grow delicious fruits or little oak trees, you always have a reason to greet someone and say, "Look, it is a gift!"

We're not alone. We are not separate. We take care of each other. Every species, every individual. A single action of caretaking creates a cascade effect of thriving. A single unapologetic love for a creature creates a blossom of curiosity and fascination in everyone surrounding. It's so powerful.

As my chemical romance says "I am not afraid to keep on living"

[cottoncandytomu]

Scream For Me Doll~ Ghostface!Ellie x F!Reader

🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸

🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸

ITS FINALLY FUCKING HEREEEEEE!!!

(I do not own any of the photos! Just edited them, if they are yours and you want them removed lmk!!)

GHOSTFACE!ELLIE AI AUDIOS HERE!!

Before I even start-

18+ CONTENT MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. THIS FIC IS DEFINITELY NOT FOR MINORS!!

PLEASE READ ALL OF THE WARNINGS BEFORE YOU INDULGE IN THIS FIC!!

I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to finally finish this fic, I wanted to make it the best I could for you deranged Beauties~. I will say though, I only proofread half of it (I'll proofread the other half later - sorry I just wanted to post it already heeheheh~) so any mistakes I apologize they will be fixed in the future!

Those who asked to be tagged, if you're not interested in this fic in particular or want to be removed please lmk!! :}

WARNINGS!! PLEASE READ!!

This fic IS NOT for everyone, so please if it isn't your cup of tea...move on. Any type of hate sent my way I ask for it to not be anonymous so I can do you the justice and block you straight up. This fic contains the following: (If I forget to put a TW please let me know so I can add it on!!)

LOTS of dark themes, Filthy smut, Knife play, Blood play, Self harm (Ellie's behalf - slightly intentional - she cuts herself on the blade), Degradation (Very minor), Possessiveness, Stalking, Cursing, Deranged reader and Ellie, Mentions of murder/killing.

I think that's it - again if I missed anything please let me know. BUT that's about it folks, hope you Beauties~ enjoy!! (7839 Words)

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The sound of breathing was the only thing to be heard, Ellie’s warm breath bouncing off the flesh of the mask and back into her own. She learned very quickly how to stay quiet in situations like these. Her robe almost touched the floor, flowing right along with her movements. The sun had set hours before, a warm yellow moon took its place. Darkness cascades over the town, it was during these hours where she thrived the most. The shadows made for her stalk within the night, hiding all of her secrets in its shroud. She slowly creeps towards your window, forever thankful that your room was located on the first floor. 

A lot of her nights were spent like this. Reveling in her recent victims over the weeks to then come and celebrate by watching you at your most vulnerable. You weren’t on her hit list, far from it actually. Her obsession for you was different, not one of bloodlust. Although she’d love to see the deep velvet color of your blood drip down your stomach. The tip of her blade digging into your skin, not too hard, not too soft, but enough to pierce the skin. She’d imagine rubbing her gloved thumb across the liquid, smearing it towards your hip bone. Where she’d then grip your waist, squeezing the soft flesh in her palm. 

Her true bloodlust was for the imbeciles who fell into her traps, never clever enough to understand the gravity of the situation they’ve put themselves in. What genius would walk through an alleyway alone after a night of drinking? Or answer a phone call in the deep hours of the night? Only idiots would and Ellie hated the idiots of the world. The ones who deserved to be silenced by her blade, one less ignorant human on this planet. She saw the evils she committed as an act of justice. Just what society needed, one less idiot to exist. But fuck there were so many. That’s why she enjoyed you the most. You weren’t like them. 

The way you were always aware of your surroundings, keeping up on the latest murders of the month. Those murders being her own work of course. She saw the way your eyes lit up at the idea of figuring out who the infamous Ghostface was. You were determined, it was cute in your own way. Ellie was always one step ahead though, she knew about your obsession with the slasher. Being your close friend was her advantage to the game. It was her fun version of tag, except for the fact that you were unaware you were playing it with her. Coming so close to touching her, the tips of your fingers stretched out wide but she was able to run and hide. You having to start all over again just when you were so close. She loved when you got close. 

She’d listen to all the theories you’d come up with about who Ghostface could be. You’ve gotten close a few times, even if it was jokingly pointing the finger at her. You’d laugh off the idea of Ellie being Ghostface. It’s too hard to believe your childhood friend who you’ve spent every waking moment with to be the one. You told her she didn’t have the guts to commit such acts, too blinded by the nurturing friendship the two of you shared. As clever as you were, in which Ellie respected, you always missed that one piece. 

There was a moment that she did want to tell you, to scream it off the rooftops or to stand outside your house with it written in bold letters. Hey, it’s me! I’m Ghostface! Surprised huh? But she knew that’d be too risky, as much as she trusts you with her life she doesn’t fully know if you’d be able to keep this under the wraps. Would you run away screaming, telling the first officer you see? Or is there that slight chance that you’d be alright with it… 

This was another fantasy Ellie loved to live in. You overjoyed with the fact that she was the one. Running up to her and caressing her mask, blood staining the tips of your fingers just moments after her fresh kill. But she knew better. Out of all the secrets you two shared, this was the only one she kept to herself. 

Little did she know you had secrets of your own. Your obsession with the slasher didn’t just end at finding out who it was. You wanted them for yourself. You wanted to trace their mask with your fingers, dragging them down the oversized robe and over to their gloved hand. You dreamt of grabbing that hand that yielded the knife. Tracing it up your chest to your delicate throat. To feel the cool blade against your skin would welcome heat that would pool between your thighs. You wanted them to use you how they wanted, bending at their will, doing whatever for them. It was a fucked up fantasy you couldn’t stop. But did you truly want it to stop? 

You had to bite your tongue every time you talked to Ellie about them. She was intrigued with your theories, always ready to listen in on the newest piece of evidence you brought up. But you didn’t want to face the judgment of her words when you told her the main reason you wanted to see what was behind the mask. You imagined her reaction once. You didn’t imagine it again after that. 

As she peers in she feels her chest swell up. It never felt any different for her, you always made her feel a certain way. Especially during these times. When she had the mask on, it changed her. She became a different person, she felt free. She felt like her true self. It was funny in a way, usually people put on a mask to hide their identity. But it wasn’t the same for Ellie, it brought out the worst in her. She loved every second of it. 

You were fast asleep in your bed, legs in a tangled mess with your blankets. Your brows were furrowed, tightly knit together. She was curious as to what you were dreaming about. Was it a nightmare? Troubles from something that happened earlier in the day? It took everything in her to not climb in through your window, coming close to you to smoothen out the lines between your brows. Her eyes trailed down to your lips, taking in how soft they looked. How badly she wanted to glide her gloved fingers across them. Just to hook them into the side of your mouth and pull back the flesh, making you smile like the joker. 

Her nightly ritual would soon come to an end. Much to her disappointment she had to go back to being the regular old Ellie. The Ellie no one suspected was Ghostface. She took in your features one last time before descending back into the night, the darkness consuming her once again. 

Finding the abandoned shed by her house she shed herself of her shroud and mask, putting them away in her pack. She returned home shortly after, unlocking her door with her key. She couldn't wait to also get some rest. Unbothered to do anything else besides sleep she threw her pack across the room. Flopping into the bed it didn’t take long for her to be whisked away into lust filled dreams of your face. 

The next morning came in a hurry. Ellie woke up in a sweat, the stuffy heat of the summer causing her clothes to stick to her skin. It didn’t help that she fell asleep with her jeans and t-shirt on, too tired the night before to change into something more comfortable. Her hand reaches over on her nightstand, grabbing her phone she checks the time, 11 a.m. It wouldn’t be long until you’re knocking at the door, you both had previously made plans to go out today. Finally having a matching day off you didn’t want to waste it away, even with the stupid curfew in place. Jackson didn’t have much to do but you both made it work. Your favorite spot was going deep into the forest, dangerous yes, but you enjoyed the quiet serene scene. The only sounds being what nature wanted to sing to you that day. 

Today would probably be one of those forest days. The overwhelming buzz of fear that clouded the skies of Jackson was starting to be too much for you to handle. You wanted, no needed, a mini escape from it all. And who better to escape all of it with none other than your loyal friend. She understood how you felt, how sick of the people you were. She understood it all too well. 

Ellie placed the phone back down on the nightstand, rubbing her eyes as she sat herself up. Letting out a sigh she climbs out of bed and goes to get ready for the day. It doesn’t take long until you’re knocking at her door. Toothbrush in her hand she rushes over to let you in. Your soft smile sends flutters to her stomach, precious as always. She sends a smile back your way, standing off to the side to let you in. You were wearing a regular t-shirt and shorts that hugged your thighs just right, she couldn’t help her eyes from checking you out. After you walk in she closes the door and returns to the bathroom to finish getting ready. 

You walk over to the door to the bathroom, leaning against the frame watching her finish up. You gave her a knowing look and she knew what would come out of your mouth before you even said it.

“New evidence?” She asks. 

Your grin widens, “Maybe…”

“Spill, now.” 

This happened often, you’d have some new “gossip” about the killer from your unresting research. While Ellie would sit and listen, wanting to know how close you’ve gotten this time. 

“So you remember a week ago when that random man was murdered?” 

Ellie pretends to think about it for a second. She knew exactly who you were referring to, he was a tough one. His extreme persistence to survive almost caused him to escape her grasp, almost. She nods at you. 

“Well apparently he put up a fight.” 

Ellie’s face cringed, thinking back on the memory. Her expression quickly changed to a confused one, now wondering how you knew about his persistence. 

“I know I know, the only reason I found this out is because of someone sharing some info on Reddit.” She waits for you to continue on. “So their Dad is a cop blah blah, shit no one cares for. But because of this he gets inside info. So get this, they found a piece of the handle to the blade Ghostface used to kill him. There’s some overly complicated science as to how they know he struggled. But the piece of it gives them a slight advantage on what weapon the killer uses. It’s honestly crazy how the knife broke. It’s said that the Buck 120 is very durable, some luck huh?” 

Fuck-

Ellie knew her mistake but didn’t think it would be found so soon. By the time she realized the piece had fallen off it had already been too late. That night she was consumed with the need to see you. Specially after that persistent fuck gave her such a hard time. The stress of it all ate her alive, for once she feared she would be discovered if he was able to escape her grasp. Luckily with one hard strike she was able to finally take him down. Enraged after the fact she kept up the hard strikes at his weak skin. Definitely a blood bath, all the emotions clouded her mind. She didn’t realize that her harsh slashes may be the one thing to bring her demise. When she saw you that night all the stress seemed to disappear. She returned home that night, dread still heavy on her head. Seeing you truly did help her but soon as she left you it all came back. The next morning was when she saw the lost piece in her handle. Cursing herself at her stupidity, it was too late. She never goes back to a kill, no matter how satisfying or difficult. It was too risky, the bodies were found usually a day or so after she ended them. 

Ellie snapped out of her thoughts at the sound of your voice. “Earth to Ellie, you there?” 

She rinses her toothbrush and spits out the paste in her mouth to answer you. 

“Yeah.” She laughs it off, “Sorry. Just thinkin’ about what you said.”

You tuck in your lips nodding slowly at her words. “It’s crazy to think about isn’t it? I’ll find out who it is eventually I know it.” 

“Oh you do now?” Ellie forgets about her previous thoughts. More interested in your words instead. 

“Mhm~ You know how close I’ve gotten.” 

“I also know how many times it’s slipped from you too.” 

“Whatever, I don’t wanna hear this shit talk when I find out who it is. I’ll prove everyone wrong.” 

Sure you will. Ellie thinks, “I’m gonna talk shit regardless. You know this.” 

You laugh at her words, “You’re right. Anyways hurry up, I wanna be out as long as I can before curfew.” 

Ellie finishes up what she has to, not wanting to keep you waiting. As she gets her things together you go to sit on the couch, patiently waiting. After she’s done you both head for the front door. Before you can leave Ellie mutters a hold on forgetting one last thing. She goes back into her room before descending out with her guitar case in hand. You smile warmly at her. You always loved when she would bring her guitar. Playing the tunes you were never tired of hearing. You opened the door for her letting her exit with her case. Following her out you both took off to the calming forest. Letting go of all the troubles that plagued your minds. 

After a few hours you and Ellie made it back to her house. The time spent in nature was a refresher you both needed. Similar reasons neither of you were aware of. The two of you didn’t eat the whole day so you both agreed to get food once settled in Ellie’s home. Not wanting the night with you to end Ellie made sure to invite you over after. She knew she’d be around you. Regardless if you stayed or not. She could either have you here or have you through your window. As much as she did enjoy the latter, she wanted to be around you as long as you’d allow. Even if it was when she was regular Ellie. 

The both of you settled down onto the couch. Ellie loaded a game up to pass the time, knowing you’d enjoy watching her play. Ellie made you comfortable no matter the situation, being in her presence made you feel such a relief. A relief no one could provide in the same way that she can. You were scrolling through restaurants in the area on your phone. Stretched out sideways along the couch. Your back against the armrest and your legs over Ellie’s as she sat regularly. Her arms were resting on your lower thighs, fingers pressing away at the buttons. She told you to pick what you wanted, not caring what you’d order. She’d eat whatever you put in front of her anyway. You didn’t want anything too crazy, just something comforting and simple. Which is why you decided on pizza, can’t get more simple than that. 

“I’m gonna get us some pizza.” You look up at Ellie from your phone.

Her eyes were trained on the screen, “Sounds good to me.” She shrugged slightly, replying. 

“Okay I’ll get us a large and a drink as well.” 

Ellie throws a quick glance in your direction, “My card should be in my pack in the room.” 

“I can just buy it Ellie…” 

“Fuck no.” When she looks back at you, this time she doesn’t break eye contact, “I invited you over to eat so I pay for it, yeah?” 

You didn’t bother to argue back with her, you’d lose in the end. You always did. You mumbled alright and she lifted up her arms so you could slip off the couch. The warmth of your legs were gone, causing her to shiver from the cool feeling of her air conditioner. 

You walked over into her room searching around for her pack. Your eyes scan the room when they finally land on it thrown over into the corner. You walk over kneeling down to open it up, digging through it you suddenly feel a sharp sting on your finger. Pulling your hand back from the pack with an ow you look hold your hand to see blood dripping from your middle finger. 

“What the fuck?” You mumble. 

Instead of making the mistake to dig around unaware again you slowly pull open the sides of the pack, opening it up to peek at what's inside. Your brows furrow at the black cloth harshly shoved in it. Slowly pulling it out to examine it an object flops to the floor. Snapping your head down your eyes widen, You can feel the blood draining from your face. A sharp flutter fills your stomach, it was a mask. But not any mask, a Ghostface mask. Picking it up with your free hand to examine it you now notice the red splatters, it stands out from the contrast of the bold white mask. Is that…blood? You think to yourself, it can’t be. This is a joke, there's no way she’s Ghostface. You smirk to yourself, was she really trying to fuck with you like this? She’s done stupid jokes before but never went as far as buying the costume to trick you. Some tricks, huh. Nice try Ellie. 

Did she really think you were that naive? You were going to get up and confront her when the sting of your finger got your attention again. You almost forgot about the cut, you then realized that nothing in your hands could’ve sliced you like that. Don’t tell me she bought a knife too, oh Ellie-. You reached into the pack again, carefully this time knowing your chances of getting cut again were high. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your throat when you saw the light shine off the blade, she really outdid herself this time. You grasp the handle and bring it out from the bag, it was the exact kind of knife Ghostface used. The knife had the smeared red on the blade as well. 

One part of you couldn’t believe the lengths she’s gone this time to fuck with your “investigation.” But the other part of you couldn’t help but shiver at the thought of her going this far. She didn’t truly know what these things did to you. If it was her, which was a long shot, you wondered how much easier everything would be. Not having to worry about who was behind the mask, not that you really cared, but it was something that crossed your mind. What if it was someone you couldn’t stand, would you be able to still keep up that fantasy of them? Could you still keep it up if it was Ellie? Your feelings for Ellie were that of a roller coaster. In friendship terms everything was smooth sailing, there’s no one else on the planet you could trust your life with more. But when it came to the topic of it being more than a friendship, that was a different story. You can’t say you never had feelings for her, you have. You just pushed them down when you realized how badly it could ruin everything. Plus you had no idea, doubted even, that she liked you the same. So you buried your own feelings deep inside, not daring to let them out again. Sometimes though she’d do things that made you shiver. That would cause those feelings to bubble over again, reaching for nothing but the disappointment you’d give them when you continued to shove them under again. 

Although, to know that she did this all for you made those feelings bubble over again. Could she have a clue about your true intentions of wanting who was behind that mask? Is that why she went this far? To make you believe it? To fall for her instead of the true Ghostface? No, she wouldn’t, it’s just a dumb prank. 

You laughed at your thoughts, going the extra mile once again, your delusions would constantly take control when the masked killer was involved. You twirl the knife in your hands one last time before you decide to put it down. As you check it for the last time your fingers smooth over something rough on the handle. Curious, you look at what the disturbed surface could be. 

As you study the handle your heart drops. No, no, no- this can’t be happening, you think. You can feel the anxiety swell up in your chest. You forget how to breathe, your thoughts racing a million miles a minute. All of the countless hours you spent searching, all of the sleepless nights you’ve had. The endless amount of research you would study, day after day. Stuck scrolling on your computer not resting until you get so close to finding out who it could be. The theories of all the different people you had, you even bought a cork board to help your search. You pulled some crazy shit you kept to yourself to find out where or who they could be. Putting yourself in danger in hopes that you’ll be the slasher's “next prey.” 

All of this for what? For it to be your best friend this whole time. The one person you were so sure of it not being. Fuck you felt so stupid. You grew up with her, you knew her better than you knew yourself. You felt pride in knowing that she would never be capable of such a thing, but she was. And here you are, staring at the handle with the piece of it missing that was just discovered by the authorities. As much as you wanted to deny it you couldn’t. Why did you want to deny it? 

In a way this makes everything easier, your mind travels back to your earlier thoughts. The thoughts of what if Ellie was the killer. But why didn’t she kill you yet? If no one was safe from her slashes then why were you? Question after question filled your head, trying to piece all the evidence together to figure out just what you have missed. While in deep thought you heard a loud thud. Locking in place you slowly turned your head to the sound. 

Ellie stood by the door, frozen. The controller that was once in her hand now faced upside down on the floor. She was wondering why it was taking you so long to grab your wallet. She knew it was in her room, in some pack that she threw on the floor yesterday. She hasn't touched it since. It wasn’t until she started thinking about it that she felt the color drain from her face. She was so exhausted yesterday that she forgot to put her Ghostface pack in the hiding spot she usually does. It slipped from her mind until this moment. Now she’s paying the consequences, walking in on you holding her knife. The very knife you just talked about hours earlier. The single piece of evidence that would be 100% proof of Ellie being Ghostface. 

She didn’t know what to do or what to say. Scared that any wrong move would result in your panic, your screams filling the air as you ran for the door. But you didn’t. You didn’t move an inch, holding the knife in your hand you stared back at her. All of this time it was her, you didn’t want to admit it but you felt a sense of relief. You did it, you found out who Ghostface was. 

You opened your mouth, trying to get something out, anything out but you couldn’t. Caught like a deer in headlights you thought about your next move. As you thought about it, so did Ellie. You weren’t supposed to find out, even if you did she didn’t want it to be this way. She wanted it on her terms, if she were to ever tell you anyway. 

As flustered as she was she managed to speak first, “Seems like all that research paid off huh?” She chuckles. 

Leave it to Ellie to make light of a situation like this, you were used to it though. She always jokes around when shit hit the fan, it was one of the many things you loved about her. You just weren’t so sure if this time was the right time for it. You looked down at the knife again, your fingers gliding against the abrasion.

“It was you the whole time…” Ellie’s eyes widened at your voice, “I busted my ass on research and it was right in front of me the whole time.” 

“Surprise…?”  

You let out a dry laugh at her response, how could you be so fucking stupid. She goes to open her mouth to speak again but you beat her to it. 

“Do you know why I really wanted to find out who Ghostface was?” 

Fuck it. It was out in the open so you might as well be honest. You didn’t know where this confidence came from but after finding out who a serial killer was you realized you only really have two options. She would let you go, which you think is unlikely or she would have to end it right here right now. Killing you to keep the risk of her being found out by the public. You didn’t think she was capable of killing you, you were her childhood best friend after all. 

She stays quiet, letting you continue. You figured you had nothing to lose now, why not let it all out in the open. 

“Finding out who was behind the mask really isn’t all that important to me. Honestly I could give less of a fuck who’s behind it. I just want them for myself. My fucked up fantasy of being with the slasher is all that I’ve been craving.” You sigh, your words becoming just a whisper. “It’s sick… I know.” 

Did Ellie just hear you correctly? Are her fantasies becoming reality right before her eyes? All those nights at your window, watching you, craving you. You writhing under her as she pleased you in the one thing that made her feel like her true self. She watched as your face fell in despair, you were ashamed. There’s no need to be ashamed. 

She wasn’t aware that she said her thoughts aloud, not realizing it until you lifted up your head. 

You looked at her with a shocked expression, “You don’t think so?” 

“How could I?” She starts, “You know what I do. I have no room to judge anyone, plus I’ve wanted nothing more than this.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, did you hear her correctly? 

She continues on, “I’ve been dreaming about this moment forever. I wanted to tell you so many times but I didn’t know how. Your reaction was something I was scared of the most. But now that I know you want this, I’m ready to take the next step.” 

“What is the next step exactly?” You ask. 

Ellie’s soft expression changes in an instant, a smirk adorning her lips. 

“I make you mine.” 

You felt a slight pang of fear but not too much. Her words catered to your sick mind, they went straight to your core. She took slow steps towards you, as to test the waters on how you would react. You didn’t move an inch, letting her slowly make her way towards you. The grasp you had on the knife tightened in anticipation. When she came close enough she reached out to your hands, loosening your grasp from the knife she took it from you. Her eyes leave yours to study the object in her hands, the object she knew all too well. Her eyes darken as she grasps the handle, pointing the tip of the blade towards you now. The smirk never leaves her lips when she drags the tip of the blade lightly up your throat, stopping to tilt your chin up towards her. 

“You want to be mine right?” She asks. 

You bite your lip, “Only if you’ll allow it.” 

It was at this moment that you saw the true change in her eyes. The Ellie you once knew, the Ellie you grew up with wasn’t the Ellie in front of you now. This Ellie was different…darker…possessive. You wanted to know this version of her more than anything, the true her behind the mask. The person you dreamt of having for so long was finally yours and you were hers. It was at this moment that you knew there was no going back, the two of you now becoming one in her secret. You’d do anything for her, be anything for her. She felt the same, all those nights she watched you at your window. She’d get rid of anyone who tried to hurt you in any way, she’d protect you from any danger that dared to wander around you. God forbid she catches the ones that hurt you, they’d regret their last moments. 

Her eyes flickered back towards yours, keeping eye contact for just a moment before trailing around your face. They stop at your lips, how badly she’s wanted to kiss the plush skin for so long. She wastes no time and throws her knife to the side. Grabbing at the sides of your face she roughly presses her lips to yours. Your hands grasp at her shirt, kissing her back with just as much fervor. The kiss was far from innocent, teeth clashing and spit mixing, just how she liked it. She took your bottom lip in her teeth, pulling at the flesh and letting it flick back in place. Her lips lock back onto yours, you pull her closer by her shirt, needing to get as close as possible. 

She pulls back after a few seconds, you let out a whimper at the loss. Your eyes filled with desperation as you stared up at her. She coos at the sight, her thumb swiping the spit across your bottom lip. 

She licks her lips, “You gonna let me have you tonight?” 

You enthusiastically nod your head, “Y-yes.” You’re still shaken up by the sloppy kisses you two just shared. 

“Yeah? Gonna let me try something out on ya?” 

You continued to nod your head, you didn’t care what she did to you. You’d give her whatever she wanted if she asked, she knew this. Yet she still wants to make sure you’re okay with it. She then took your hands in hers, pulling you to stand up along with her, she then led you to the bed. She pushed you back onto it, you flopped onto the mattress waiting for her next move. She admired you for a moment before walking back by her pack, she grabbed the mask off the floor and slipped it on. 

“You want me to fuck you in this mask hm?” She asks. Not giving you time to reply she continues, “How much did you dream about this?” 

Your words were stuck in your throat, it was all too much but it was so fucking good. You had envisioned how your first night with Ghostface would play out. Staring into their mask, their fingers buried in you, giving you the utmost pleasure you craved. But this? This was better than anything you could have imagined. Especially when it was with the one woman you loved more than anything. 

She picked up her knife, twirling it in her hands. 

“I would use this but that persistent fucker had to ruin it for me.” She shook her head, the loose fabric at the ends swayed in the air. “Good thing I got another.” 

She walks over to her closet, digging around until she pulls out another Buck 120. She flips it over, checking out the shining blade and admiring it. She loved nothing more than her ol’ reliable knife. 

“Got this one as a back up, y'know just in case incidents like before happened. A slasher must always be prepared~” 

Her head looks up, the soulless black eyes staring into yours. You can hear the teasing tone in her voice when she talks to you. She’s well aware she has you wrapped around her finger, ready to do whatever she pleases. 

She stalks towards you, “I’m gonna fuck you with this knife now~.” Her hold on the knife now tighter, “Don’t worry baby it’s clean, haven’t killed anyone with this one…yet.” 

Your eyes widened, her words went straight to your core. You couldn’t help the little fidgets your body made as she slowly made her way towards you. You couldn’t see because of the mask but her eyes were trained on your thighs that clenched together in anticipation. You couldn’t help but rub them together, needing some sort of friction to relieve the heat building up between them. 

You couldn’t help but ask, “Which side?”

Ellie groaned at your question, “Fuck baby~ you want the blade? Are you that psycho for me?” 

You didn’t particularly want to be mutilated tonight, even though somewhere deep down in your fucked up brain the thought was there, you just wanted to make sure Ellie was on the same page. 

“Just curious…” You reply. 

She now stood in front of you, knife in her right hand. Her free hand comes up to rest on your knee, pushing it to the side to open your legs up for her. You can hear her heavy breaths through the mask. 

“As much as I wanna see you bleed, I don’t want it that way. That’s what your thighs are for.” 

Her hand strokes down your thigh, stopping midway to squeeze at the flesh. She brings her knife up to your skin, slicing it lightly enough to draw a tiny bit of blood. She flicks up the knife, her skills on display as she scoops the blood onto the blade, bringing it up to her mask and smearing it on the white rubber. She drags the knife down to the tip of the chin, tapping it against it a few times, as if in thought of what her next move is. You whimper at the sting of the cut, little droplets still flowing from it. She reaches up to smear the blood across your thigh, taking her time watching the way the red liquid spreads. 

“I’ve wanted to see you bleed for me so bad. S’Better than I ever imagined.” 

You bite your lip, holding back your whimpers as you wait impatiently for her next move. You wanted her to do something, to do anything to relieve the ache you felt. She turns the knife around in her hand, the grip pointing towards you. 

“I’m gonna fuck you with the handle instead. That way every time I slash someone I have a memory of you with me. It’ll be the only thing I’ll think about with my victims.” 

Her words flooded through your veins, firing up every cell in your body. You didn’t know she had such a way with her words, if she kept going you’d probably climax just from them alone. As much as her words had an effect on you, you wanted her to go along with her promise. 

“Please…just fuck me already Ellie.” You beg.

“Patience Doll~ You out of everyone should know I like to take my sweet time when it comes to my victims. But since you said please, I’ll give you what you want.” 

She sets the knife down next to you on the bed, her hands grip at the waistband of your shorts pulling them down. You were soaked, the fabric of your panties so wet that you could see the outline of your pussy. 

“Mmh so wet for me, all I did was speak to you and draw a little blood.” Her thumb presses into your slit, pushing against your juices. 

Her fingers hook into your panties pulling out the fabric, she then grabs her knife and cuts off your panties. You breath hitches at how close the blade was to your core, any closer and she would’ve cut you. Making you bleed for the second time that night. She chuckles at your reaction then shoves the panties into her back pocket, saving them for later. 

She pushes up your thigh, opening you up for her and lines up the knife handle to your entrance. She teases you, gliding the end of it up and down your slit collecting up your juices to lube up the knife. 

“You ready Doll?” She asks. 

You whisper out a yes as she slowly slides the handle into your pussy, watching you grip onto it. You can feel her push back on your thigh more, making you stretch so she can get a nice view of you. Even though it was happening in front of her she couldn’t believe you were sprawled out before her like this. She’d catch herself staring at her knife imagining how it would look against your skin, how much she craved to slide it through your folds. Now that she was here it was almost too much, but she didn’t let her excitement take control. She wanted to fully immerse herself in this experience, taking all of you in. From the scrunches of your brows to the curling of your toes, she wanted to see all of you. 

She carefully dragged out the knife, her hand delicately holding the blade. She pushes the handle in and out of you, setting a slow steady rhythm. You writhe under her touch, not being able to hold back your moans anymore, the cool handle adding to the pleasure. You grab onto her wrist, holding her tight. You look up at her mask and she catches your movements tilting up her head. You’re staring hard enough to see her eyes through the meshed fabric, seeing the darkness behind them. She’s wanted this just as much as you did and you’re so glad it’s her that’s giving you this much pleasure. As good as it felt you wanted more, the slow pace was killing you. In a way you felt like she was holding back, still too afraid to lose herself, scared that she might hurt you. 

“Ellie…” You moan out, she twists the knife slightly muttering a yes. 

“Please don’t hold back.” Her movements stop and you whine at her, “I want you to let yourself go, let Ghostface come out.” 

Ellie’s hand quivered at your words, were you sure? Once she’s in that mindset she’s gone, she doesn't wanna risk too much. Although her dark thoughts were always in the back of her mind, how badly she wanted to drill her knife into you and watch you squirm at her force. 

“Baby, are you sure? I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself.” 

You loved when she called you that, “Yes, I’m sure. I want it this way, I’m begging you~.” 

You gave her wrist a reassuring squeeze and that was all she needed before the light in her switched. The Ellie you grew up with, knowing better than anyone is not the Ellie that’s in front of you now. That confirmation from you was all she needed to let her true side take control. It happened so fast you didn’t know how to react, Ellie had grabbed you and flipped you over. Making sure your ass was up in the air, almost hanging off the edge of the bed. You braced yourself on your hands, an oof coming out of your lips when she pushed your face down into the mattress. 

You felt a harsh smack on your ass, you moaned at the sting it left behind. She kneads the flesh after, spreading you open and admiring you from behind. Without second thought she reaches down to grab the knife, this time firmly grabbing it by the blade as she plunges the handle inside you once again. She wastes no time fucking you hard and fast, her knuckles white from how hard she holds onto the blade. 

“F-fuck Ellie!” You gasp out. 

You’re in ecstasy, loving the way her demeanor changed. She loses herself in you, focused on the handle pushing in and out of you, how your juices cover the handle and drip down the blade onto her hand. 

“You like that Doll? You’re taking this knife so well~ M’so proud of you.” 

Your moans grow louder by the second, you’re not able to hold back anymore, not that Ellie wants you to anyway. You grip the bed sheets tight, your face repeatedly pushing into the mattress at her relentless force. You knew she was strong but fuck not like this. You were never really on the receiving end of her strength to truly know but now that you were you could see why no one stood a chance against her. She slaps at your ass again before she brings her free hand down to rub circles against your clit causing you to cry out. If she kept fucking you this way it wouldn’t take long for you to reach your high. 

“Shit-” You heard her whisper. 

You whip your head to the side to look at her. You can see her head tilt up to look back at you, she suddenly took her hand off your clit to reach up and tear off her mask. Her hair was a mess, tangled and stuck to her face in other spots from her sweat. Her eyes were blown wide, a harsh darkness to them you’ve never seen before and her lips. Her lips were red and plush from how much she bit them at the sight of you. You were a masterpiece to her, this was all she ever wanted. When she pushed her hair out of the way you noticed the blood that smeared along her forehead. She saw your eyes on her hand and gave you a lopsided smile, her hand going back down to rub at your clit once more. 

“Fuckin’ you so hard I cut myself.” She laughs darkly, “You don’t mind right?” 

Well fuck-

Your eyebrows scrunched together at her words, “No!” You moaned. “Don’t mind.” 

You could barely form sentences from how good she was making you feel, she knew this and she reveled in that fact. A cocky smirk on her lips as her eyes watched the way you squirmed and stuttered under her. She could give less of a fuck that she’s bleeding, your pleasure being the only thing that matters. It didn’t take much longer for you to feel the build up in the pit of your stomach, you were close. 

“Ellie I’m so close, please don’t stop~”

“Don’t plan on it Doll~” Ellie replies, speeding up her movements, if that were even possible. 

You bury your face into the mattress but then you feel a harsh smack to your clit. 

“I wanna hear your moans Sweetheart, don’t hide them from me now.” 

You nod your head rapidly, tears are starting to form in your eyes from all the pleasure you’re experiencing. Who would’ve thought you’d be right here, experiencing the one thing you wanted the most, you never thought your day would end up like this. You’re thankful nonetheless, this is exactly what you wanted and you wouldn’t want anyone else doing it to you. 

It didn’t take long until you reached your high. 

“Ahh~ I’m cumming!” 

Your back arched more, pulling at the sheets so hard they come undone from the edges. Ellie doesn’t slow down her movements either, ignoring the pain in her hand she keeps sliding the knife in and out of you. She watched as your juices flowed down onto the blade and her hand, mixing in with her blood. It made her moan out loud, a sight she’d never forget. 

“Mmm cum for me Doll, just like that. I wanna see your juices on my blade.” 

She helps you ride out your orgasm and your legs start to tremble. She chuckles at the state you’re in and slowly pulls the blade out of your pussy, watching your sticky juice strings stick to the handle. You watch her bring up the knife to her lips, sucking your juices off the handle, you whimper at her actions. When she’s done she throws the knife to the floor, her hands back onto you she spreads her blood up your thigh and onto your ass cheek as she gives you one last squeeze. You’re panting as you turn yourself over to lay on your back, she helps you lie down with a dark smile. She loves how she got you to this point, as much as she’d like to do it again she decides to save it for another night. 

She reaches over to give your hand a quick squeeze saying she’ll be right back as she walks over to her bathroom. After a few moments she comes back with a wet towel, a cloth is tied around her hand to stop the blood from flowing. She walks over to you and wipes away all the blood and cum off your body, giving soothing strokes to your skin afterwards. 

“So…” Ellie starts, “You gonna turn me in?” 

You can’t help the snort that comes out of your throat, “Fuck off.” 

“Is that a no, or?” She questions a knowing smile on her lips. 

“I let you fuck me with your knife, do you think I’m gonna turn you in?” 

She laughs at your response, “Just fuckin’ with ya.” 

She climbs into the bed lying next to you, throwing the towel onto the floor, she faces you and strokes your cheek with the back of her knuckles. You look over at her with tired eyes and a warm smile, she really does switch up fast. 

The two of you wrap up in each other's arms for the rest of the night. You ask all about her time as Ghostface, wanting to know every gory detail and she tells you it all. After a few hours of chatting you both lay in silence, content in each others presence. 

Ellie speaks up first, “So…about that pizza?”

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RAVIOLIII!! I hope you all enjoyed my fic!! I thank you all for reading my content! I have more on the way but I will be taking a small break to work on my drag projects I got going on!! As always any feedback is appreciated as I always want to level up my writing. Thank you all for being patient with me!! You Beauties~ have a wonderful day/night!!

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@moonlightdivine , @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshametohidemyshame

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐂𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍.

DAY FOUR OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: artificial intelligence au + "here, you are. you tiny thing."

pairing: ai-enhanced!miguel o’hara x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, sci-fi, enemies to lovers

summary: there are codeborns and codebreakers. In this world ruled by ai and the people who want to keep it that way, codebreakers fight for freedom while the feared codeborns (ai-enchanced humans) do everything to keep the so-called 'peace'. You are one of the codebreakers, hunted by one of the most menacing codeborn yet, miguel o'hara.

word count: 3k

warnings: hunter/prey, chase kink, size kink, power imbalance, fear kink, dancing on the line of dubcon due to the power imbalance, but reader very much wants miguel, hate sex, piv, possessive!miguel, biting (it has a slight aphrodisiac effect because why not), some blood, dystopian, bondage with mechanical arms, double penetration thanks to said mechanical arms, dirty talk, degradation kink if you squint,

a/n: i don't know with this is, it kinda sorta happened and, honestly, i don't hate it.

In a city perpetually cloaked in gray, oppression is an unrelenting weight. Surveillance cameras leer from every corner, tracking your steps and every muttered word.

This city used to thrive, alive with energy. Now, it's stifled by a regime that rules with an iron fist. Holographic banners hang in the air, projecting sanitized slogans that mask the truth. Rain splashes onto pixelated cobblestones, the wet ground echoing the neon lights into your eyes. 

Heart pounding, you dart through the alleyways, every step echoing. You hear them chasing you, the CodeBorns, they were the AI-enhanced sentinels of this world. Their purpose; bring order to the intricate dark web of the city. You scoff as you run, what a load of bullshit. The sentinels are nothing more than mindless robots that have a barely working human heart—and brain—for that matter. 

Very fittingly, you’re part of a group called CodeBreakers, a group of dedicated people trying to dismantle the regime and censorship. You just recently hacked into the cinema, which might seem not like a big deal, but you just had to save those poor people from watching the same damn thing over and over again. 

Making people watch something else that wasn’t handpicked by the goverment might’ve not been a big deal, but breaking into the system certainly was, and something not everyone could do. 

“Shit,” you hiss, accidentally tripping over a loose cobblestone. “Shit shit shit—” 

The worst thing about the CodeBorns is the fact that they can do a lot that regular folk like you can’t. For example, they’re all ridiculously fast, they can see in the dark, they can hear exceptionally well, they have superhuman strength—

You hear a wall shattering behind you and heavy steps grow closer, you’re relieved when you realize it’s only one set of steps, but as you realize who those steps probably belong to, your chest caves. 

Fucking, Miguel O’Hara. 

You hear the familiar creak of mechanical limbs and the familiar sound of your name falling from his lips. Another thing about the AI-enhanced sentinels, they have body upgrades they can take off whenever they want to. 

“You can’t unrun me!” he roars. “You know you can’t!”

He’s right, you can’t run a beast of a man like him. 

You need to be smarter. 

Ducking into another alleyway, you thank whatever god is left in this world overrun by technology for the web of light the neon signs provide. You quickly spot a string of utility boxes, It’s dangerous, but you manage to squeeze yourself between them and the hard stone wall. Heat radiates from the boxes. If Miguel doesn’t lose track of you soon, the damn thing might heat up enough to burn you. 

The clatter of mechanical limbs echoes closer.

And then you see him. 

The neon light reflects off his holographic suit, its dynamic red details reminiscent of flickering pixels. He's a towering figure. Spider-like limbs protrude from his back, their gleaming metal glistening with the moisture of the rain-soaked air. They move slightly as if looking around, trying to sense her. With panic, you hold your breath, the small hairs on the back of your neck standing with attention. 

His brow is slightly furrowed, something you recognize he does when he’s either angry or annoyed—or both.  His lips, however, curve into a faint, almost menacing smile, revealing a glimmer of satisfaction in this pursuit.

The alleyway seems to shrink around you as his steps grow nearer. Your pulse quickens, synchronized with the flickering lights around you. This isn’t your first run-in with Miguel, and you doubt it will be the last. 

You squeeze your eyes shut. The fear you feel poisons you, making your stomach churn and your mouth taste of death. He’s captured you before but never actually handed you in. 

Arousal rears its head among the fear, coating you in a sheer sweat. You can’t help it. It’s a Pavlovian response at this point, you see him and your body starts leaking like a damn faucet. Miguel had captured you twice, and in both of them, you ended up with his cock deep between your legs. 

You just never know with him. He never contacted you outside of this, never acted in a way that would indicate that something had happened between you two. 

All he gave you is this, the chase, the fear, the wondering if this might be the time he throws you in a needlessly futuristic cell—

"Here, you are. You tiny thing."

Shit. 

It’s comical really; the way you look up with wide eyes as his red ones peer down at you. His smirk is non-existent, yet you can still feel his satisfaction in finding you. Your chest heaves painfully, you can move, struck with uncharacteristic fear. He might not be an animal you get the sense that he smells the horror sticking to your skin. 

You’re about to make a run for it when the mechanical arm’s sinewy grace coils around your ankles. Miguel pulls you out of your hiding place. All the blood rushes to your face as you hang upside down. 

“Dammit, Miguel!” you hiss. “Put me down!” 

He raises a sole brow elegantly, his eyes moving up and down your body, his gaze almost predatory. “Rather bold for a criminal,” he answers, voice nonchalant. The limbs tighten around your ankles, just a shy away from being painful. The arm draws you nearer, your breath mingling with his in the dewy air. “I’m starting to think you enjoy getting caught.” 

“Does it look like I have a death wish?” you ask. His lips twitch and you quickly add. “You know what, never mind, don’t answer that.” 

“What if it was one of the others who found you first? Were you going to spread your legs for them too? ” he snarls. “Is that how you’ve been getting away from hacking our systems for this long?” 

This time when the limb squeezes harder around your flesh and bone, you scream. The sound is drowned by the constant buzz of the world. “I should just take you in,” he murmurs. “Be less trouble.” 

Due to the blood gathering in your skull, you might be imagining things but you swear you saw a hint of actual worry instead of anger in those crimson eyes. But that shouldn’t be possible. Codeborns didn’t feel; sure they felt anger, but they were programmed sentinels made not to care about anyone who went into their criminal system. 

“Careful, your emotion is showing.” 

Maybe you do have a death wish, after all. 

“Bitch.” 

His sudden anger chokes the air from out of your lungs. You’re suffocated. The limb around you suddenly scorching hot, his eyes redder than normal, bright enough to match the neon raining from above. He bares his teeth at you, sharp and venomous, when he wants them to be. Miguel leans further into your personal space, his scowl deep—you begin to shake all over, your heart begging for your body to move away but you can’t. All you fear and think is fear. 

Arousal sneaks between the sinews of emotions. You taste it on your tongue, the scent of it searing as you take quick, sharp breaths. 

Miguel’s nose brushes the tender skin right under your ear, the sound of his inhale deafening “Afraid?” he rolls his tongue, his voice nothing but gravel. Before you can answer, a chuckle halts your tongue. His breath dans over your damp skin, goosebumps rising across your skin. “Or aroused? Or perhaps both?” 

You say nothing and it’s not for a lack of trying. You’re stunned into it, your tongue feeling limp and big in your mouth. The sharp edges of his teeth nip at your upside-down cheek, and despite yourself, a whimper escapes. 

“No seas tímida ahora. Where’s all that bite from before? Cat got your tongue?” you joly at the sudden feel of his warm tongue, your nipples hardening under the fabric of your shirt. “Beg for it.” again, a darkness curls around each and every word. 

This situation shouldn’t be getting you this hot and bothered. The want between your legs pulses so bad that it hurts. 

“P—Please, Miguel,” you say barely above a whisper. “I. . . I want it.” 

“Want what?” 

Fucking asshole. “Your cock. I want. . . you to fuck me.” 

His smile does nothing to quell the fear, “Good girl,” he rasps, the words echoing in your ear. 

The rest happens in a blur. 

Suddenly you’re not hovering upside down anymore, instead, you’re shoved up against the hard, cold surface of a wall, your pants being lowered for you. Now it’s your wrists that are bound and pinned above your head, your legs spread from the ankles thanks to the mechanical arms. Miguel’s large presence looms right behind you, his clothed cock flush between the crevice of your ass. 

“Let’s see how wet you are,” he coos, ripping your panties into two. You make a strangled sound of disapproval, but all he does is click his tongue. “Be grateful I didn’t shred your pants.” 

Grateful is the last thing you’re feeling as two fingers spread your folds, the middle one dipping between. Your body speaks for itself. Swiping his fingers up and down, he gatherers your slick around the digit and traces your entrance, pushing in. Your body jumps at the beach, pleasure licking the base of your spine. “So responsive,” he murmurs and you hear the familiar glitching sound of his suit. 

Then you feel the heft of his cock laying right above the curve of your ass, both his hands cradling your asscheeks. The limb around your wrists coils tighter. 

Miguel parts your cheeks, getting a better look. Your cheeks burn in response. The cool air hits your other hole and you hate the way your body clenches at the cold. His thumb traces the rim and a loud exhale of air rips from your lungs. Your legs start to shake, slick dripping down the insides of the tender flesh. 

“Gonna fuck this pretty asshole one day soon,” Miguel gloats. Experimentally,  he pushes his thumb forward, nearly knuckle deep until you start squirming. You’re dripping for him, your asshole fluttering around the digit. The mild pain only makes your pulse race. “Unfortunately for you, I can’t today.” 

You hear his smile in his voice. The smugness that is laced into his every sentence. Your breath hitches when he pulls out, a moment later the warmth of his finger is replaced with something cold and metal. 

You tense as you hear the machine whirring, the hardness of it is replaced with something rounder and softer. “M—Miguel. . . ?” 

His lips touch your ear, “Shhh, don’t worry about it, princesa, just a little something to keep you satisfied while I fuck your pretty little cunt.” 

The arm merely moves over your hole, a feather-like touch that warms your skin. When it gently prods at you, you arch your back instinctively, your ass moving up into the air. 

Miguel only chuckles, the sound dark and low, a faint slap is delivered to your ass. You yelp but he doesn’t say another word. 

He’s big. 

You have no idea if it’s just lucky genetics or due to the ai-enhancement but whatever it is; he’s well-endowed. 

He makes you feel every tantalizing inch as he pushes himself further into your cunt, your walls throbbing while adjusting to his width. Your jaw drops, mouth gaping. He presses deeper and deeper, every centimeter of your cunt claimed by him. Your knees buckle and for the first time, you’re grateful for the robotic tendrils holding you up. He growls into your neck, those same venomous fangs skimming the tenderness of your neck. You feel the sharp bite of his nails digging further into your hip. 

Towards the base, his cock thickens and your eyes roll back as he shoves the last of it deep inside you. Your breasts feel heavy, tingling with pleasure despite being untouched.

Miguel doesn’t wait, he pulls back his hips and snaps them forward. Your stomach clenches with a delightful shiver. While slamming into you, the arm that holds your wrists together starts to pull you back until your back forms the perfect art, a mild discomfort steaming at the base of your spine. The way he’s angling you above his cock coaxes sweet, load moans from you. If possible, he’s even deeper now, hitting that devastating spot you can’t seem to reach when you’re on your own. 

“You like being my little plaything?” he groans, kissing the sweaty skin between your neck and shoulder. You moan again when the rounded tip of the mechanical limb starts pushing into the tight ring. A fresh pulse of wetness soaks you and trickles down his length, leaving your body trembling. “Fuck,” thrust. “So,” thrust. “goddamn,”  thrust. “wet—” 

You attempt to say his name but all you manage is the pathetic repeat of the letter “m”. His lips curl cruelly and the tip of the arm forces itself deeper, fucking you with shallow thrusts. “Pathetic,” he spits. “You’re so fucked out that you can’t even say my name? You can’t help drooling around my cock, can’t you? This is why I think you enjoy getting caught, you tiny thing,” the hard edge of his voice softens as he drags his nose down your neck. “So pathetic.” 

When he nips at your neck for the nth time tonight, you bare yourself to him by tilting your head. You want it. Want him. You need to feel him tear into your flesh, you want to feel the sting of his bite for weeks. 

His movements slow on both ends. “It’ll hurt,” he warns. 

“I don’t care,” you choke out. “P-Please— I–I can’t—” 

You really can’t talk. Your cunt squeezes around him, begging for the hard pound of his hips. Miguel doesn’t make you say it twice. He sinks his teeth into the same pace he kissed not a moment ago, the pain is instant, the trickle of warm blood making you squeamish. He doesn’t suck, only bites, not that you ever thought he would be sucking your blood. You imagine it’s just something he enjoys doing, like a primal need. You feel the soft webs of psychedelic venom seep into your veins. Your body grows limp, your lids growing heavy, he resumes his thrust and the pleasure you feel is tenfold. 

“Oh god,” you gasp, slack-jawed. “Oh my fucking god—Miguel—” 

He pulls out his teeth, kissing the marks he made that were shiny with blood, “I know, I know,” he grinds his hips, the pleasure shooting up your spine like electricity. “The effects won’t last long.” 

His words go through one ear and out the other. However. Your body singing with pleasure and nothing else, the word around you fading into reds and pinks. 

Miguel snapped his hips hard into you, meanwhile, the limb resumed its thrusts, stretching you further with every stroke. Some part of you is reminding you that Miguel, as of right now, can see every part of you, your most intimate parts completely bare. But the soothing venom lurking in your veins whispers words of encouragement. You focus on being stretched further, your hips move in need to meet his thrusts, but having nothing to brace yourself against, you surrender and allow him to take you apart wholly. 

His grunts became louder, Miguel pushed deeper and deeper, both cocks thrusting into you at the same time. Spit dribbles from the corners of your lips. Your mind empties with slack-jawed bliss as both lengths repeatedly strike your sensitive spots, pounding you with pleasure. 

You let out a loud gasp when the limb pulls out of you suddenly and you’re left empty, Miguel’s arms wrap around you, hands sliding under your shirt to cup the heavy weight of your breasts. He presses flush against you, striking your ass, he fucks into you with short, deep thrusts. 

His fingers pinch at your hard nipples, slightly turning them, “Gonna fill you up,” he groans. “Gonna fuck myself deep inside of you so no one will dare touch you.” 

The possessive tone, the brutal pace of his thrusts, the large hands on your tits—all of it pushes you down the edge, your body going rigid before relaxing entirely. You gush around him, wet sounds echoing in the narrow alleyway as he fucks you through it, not slowing down in the slightest. 

However, you do feel the hold around your wrists recoiling along with the ones holding your ankles apart. Miguel holds you close as you fall loosely like a ragdoll, animalistic sounds are grunted into your ear, another burst of arousal awakening on your tongue. 

The tip of his tongue dances along the bite marks when he spills into you, his cock deep, just like he promised. 

There’s so much, you feel the heat of it spreading inside of you, some of it spilling around from where his cock stretches you wide. His hips twitch, his arms forcing down the grind of your hips. You let out a whimper, your head falling over his shoulder. 

The two of you remain like that until his cock begins to soften inside of you, Miguel slowly pulls out and lowers you to the ground so you can sit. He finds your pants and throws it towards your lap. 

Sadly for you, your brain registers none of that. The dumb muscle only starts working again when he stands tall in front of you, that same menacing stance returning. 

“Don’t let me catch you again,” he says, voice stern. He looks down at you as he stuffs his cock back in his pants. “If I do, I’ll have to lock you up. This was your last warning.” 

And with that, he leaves. 

A bitter laughter bubbles in your throat as the back of your head hits the hard surface of the wall. Rain begins to drizzle, the first tiny drops landing on your cheeks and sliding down to your neck. 

Among all the people you could’ve fallen for, why did it have to be him?

[luxtrys]

anakin doesn't like people touching his hair and you just love teasing your boyfriend

i just know how angry ani gets when someone who isn't you comes anywhere close to his hair.

its not because he spends hours doing it in the morning, because lets be real. anakin has better things to be doing with his time, like betraying the jedi order. he simply hops in the shower every morning with you, using your birthday cake shampoo that you scold him for every-time you see him use way more than he needs to, gets out, drys it with a towel and then goes on with the rest of his day. if he's taking you out someplace special he might go over it with some gel, but thats about the extent of it.

the second someones hands come close to anakins hair, he struggles to resist the urge to pull out his lightsaber and slice them clean off. like that one time obi-wan decided to congratulate anakins success in his duelling victory with another padawan when he was 16. lets just say that obi-wan never touched anakins hair again.

but of course when it comes to you, ani yearns to hand your hands in his hair constantly.

<3

after a hard day at the jedi temple, you watch as ani slumps beside you on the couch while you're watching you're favourite reality show on television. after taking off his heavy robes, he leaves a soft kiss on your forehead, nose and lips before resting his head on your lap. you know what he's asking for, but you decided to test his patience.

you smiled to your self and your new plan, your hands still resting beside you. as seconds pass and anakin doesn't feel your long acrylic nails raking through his scalp, he turns to face you. with his head still squished against your thighs, he frowns at you.

"what ani? why do you look so grumpy?" you giggle, taking your thumb and swiping is across the pout on his lips. "you know why." he states sternly. "do i though? because it seems my mind is blank." you tease.

what he does next is unexpected in the moment, but is so in anakins style. he pushes himself up by his hands, and grabs your hips. you squeal as he lifts you like you weigh nothing, placing your body onto his lap so you're straddling him on the couch.

this is how he liked it, because even if you were on top of him, he was in control. you never like to admit it, because you strive yourself on being strong and that no one has the higher ground in the relationship, but you both know thats not the case.

anakin thrived off of your dependency on him, he loved that more than 99 percent of the time he knew that he was in control of a situation. and that reflected greatly on how your relationship dynamic was. anakin was brooding, protective, arrogant and didn't take shit from anyone. and you, well you were like a ray of sunshine, you really went where ever the wind took you and you didn't really mind much about what other people said about you. you didn't hate many things and you had always seen people saying bad things are that they were learning, and that it was really a reflection of how they were feeling on the inside.

you did however find pride in your self in a certain moment when a man on the streets of downtown Coruscant whistled at you suggestively, and that he cowered when you gave him a lecture on respect and quietly apologised before scurrying off. what anakin would never tell you though is that, in the moment he stood behind you, all tall, dark and powerful, moving to rest his hand over his lightsaber and staring straight into the eyes of the man infront of you.

anakin was a force that wasn't to be reckoned with, but you liked to tease him everyonce in a while. and you always paid for it.

ani's rough large hands ghosting over your sides snaps you out of your thoughts quickly. remembering what you were doing, you giggled at how little it took for you to piss off your sweet loving boyfriend. placing your hands on his rock hard chest, you voiced softly "im not joking ani, i really don't know why you're all grumpy"

"hmm, how am i not believing a word thats coming out of your mouth pretty girl" he rasped, trailing kisses down your neck. he knew you would break when he started kissing you, but you persevered. you just wanted him to admit he liked when you scratched his head, how hard was that?

"i don't know ani! maybe if you tell me what you want me to do then i can help you." he wasn't buying your act, at all. anakin was secure enough that he didn't care that he liked when his girlfriend played with his hair, shit, he would tell the whole world if he had to. but he cared when you were teasing him, and he loved putting you back in line.

"well, if i didn't know any better, id think my good girl was teasing me" his kisses now moved from your neck down to your chest, your tiny laced floral tank not giving much coverage to your cleavage from his lovebites. "im not ani" you whined, his jaw ticking at your choice of tone. "maybe you just need to start taking control in this relationship"

you knew you were done for the second those words left your mouth, ani didn't like when you used your so called 'bratty voice' and he really didn't like it when you questioned his authority. you were sending prayers to every god you could think of as his jaw clenched tightly and his fingers gripped the fabric of your tank top.

he stood up unexpectedly, you legs quickly wrapping around his waist as he held your thighs up. you couldn't help but let out a small 'oh my god’ as he started making his way towards your shared bedroom.

"no baby, no god. just me.”

<3

yall this is a mess im so sorry... feel free to not count this when you think of my writing thankq <33

[drefear]

Hail to the King

Chapter 7: Office

Summary: Miguel O’Hara is the head of the biggest mafia family in Nueva York, scaring almost all of its citizens. Except you. And that’s exactly what he needs. 

TW: Thigh riding, orgasm, spanking, fear, verbal abuse, sex slavery

“A lesson? I’m not a child.” You retorted, but you heard your voice shake as you spoke and he smiled cruelly. 

“You sound unsure. Wanna try that again, brat?” He clicked his tongue, a sound you were becoming too familiar with, as he folded his arms across his chest. The size difference between the two of you made Miguel fill with pride. 

“Get out of my office.” You answered and he just grabbed your wrist, yanking you forward to fall into his abdomen. “Whose office is this?” He asked and you just boiled a bit more, hating the way his eyes made you nervous. 

“Fine.” You felt his hand slide down your arm to your shoulder and onto the crook of your neck, eyes never leaving his. The skin of your arm practically buzzed from his touch and he knew this, seeing your resolve melt before him because of barely a touch. He thought about the way your pussy clenched around his fingers the other day, how you looked in a fit of passion and right before he denied your orgasm. 

“Stand up.” He instructed, feeling a familiar twitch in his pants as he watched, noticing the way your skirt didn't crease around your hips when you moved. He waited until your look of hesitancy became a cold glare and moved to grab the back of your neck, bending you over the edge of your desk now. A small yelp escape your lips as he held you there, using the other hand to tug your skirt around your waist. 

“So you can listen.” He smirked as he saw the sight before him with merciless joy and a mocking tone. 

“When I want to.” You added spitefully and he ignored the comment, instead slapping the meat of your ass harshly. You jumped a bit, the hit of his hand unexpected. 

“You like this, I can tell.” He added and bent over you, pressing his chest to your back as he bit the top of your ear. “Tell me.” He demanded and you arched into him instinctively, not able to deny yourself the pleasure of this anymore. 

“Ok, ok, yes…” You hurriedly answered, hoping to get what you’d wanted. 

“Good.” He nodded and dropped you, backing away once more. You let out a pitiful sound and made him laugh as you spun to face him, watching him sit in your office chair and wrake his eyes over your flustered form. “Sit. “

Your expression became clouded with confusion as you scanned him, then seeing him use two fingers and tap his thigh. You licked your bottom lip before you moved to straddle his thigh, cheeks heating up as you became face to face with him. Red eyes made you feel small, miniature against his large body. His thigh flexed under you and immediately made you throb a bit, taking your breath away as he smirked and leaned into your ear. 

“You’re going to ride me like this until you soak me, understand?” Your eyes widened and you gulped hard as he smiled and bit your neck hard, forcing your hips to roll against his leg once more. Arching your back, your hands gripped his shoulders until the fabric scrunched and pulled under your tense fingers. His palms moved to your ass as he forced you into a rhythm, thrusting your pussy against his muscular thigh over and over until you were sweating and moaning into his ear. He thrived on the control he had over your body without even taking any clothing off. His One hand moved to the front of your skirt and slipped under the front when you started bouncing on him on your own, finger pressing and circling your clit slowly. Miguel licked a heavy strip against your throat as your high built into an overwhelming need to release. 

“That’s it, sweet girl, let go for me. I got you.” He whispered and you let out a loud sound from the back of your throat, burying your mouth into his shoulder as you felt the clothing of your panties and his dress slacks become soaked under you. He chuckled and he pulled his face from yours. “Will you kiss me now, brat?” 

“Not a chance.” You stared back, panting a bit. 

You both watched the other silently as you filled the air with a toxic attitude; immense stubbornness and undeniable sexual tension. 

The stand off in your office continued for a moment before the phone rang and made you snap out of your trance, answering immediately. Standing up, you picked it up and held your chest as MIguel stood next to you now.

You listened and nothing came. 

“Hello?” You asked and you heard a voice begin to talk to someone, anyone listening on your end. 

“Tell O’Hara that we’re coming for the girl-” The voice said and then the line went dead. Your eyes looked up to see Miguel standing with the plug in his hand, ripped from the wall. You dropped your hand, the phone falling to the floor as your mind raced. 

“Were they talking about me?” You asked and his body tensed, making you get louder. “Answer me!” 

“Yes, they want you.” “Why?” You begged, needing some sort of answer, but before he even moved, the door flew open and Jess burst in. Miguel barely flinched as he looked at her. 

“I tracked the location of the call.” She stated and you felt your legs jelly, knees wobbling a bit. What was going on? You felt weak and light headed. 

“Get Lyla on the phone, call Punk and Lego to come get us, and get Miles and Gwen to Peter. I need this to go smoothly.” He instructed and suddenly the room was quiet to your ears. Jess said your name, but it sounded so distant, so faded compared to the blood pounding in your ears. Miguel’s hand touched your shoulder and you tugged yourself away from him, stumbling backwards and hitting the ground. As he took a step closer, you scrambled on the floor into the wall behind you as tears dripped down your cheeks. 

“What the fuck is going on?” You begged and Jess furrowed her brows behind her sunglasses, looking from you to Miguel. 

“You haven’t told her?” She sounded mad and he shot her a warning look, “Well, this makes a lot more sense.” She huffed with anger and shook her head. “You need to tell her while I get everything ready.” Jess said and walked out, leaving you on the ground sobbing with Miguel a few feet away. 

The quiet of the room was palpable as your sniffles and cries were the only sound to be heard. 

“I told you that Eddie was working for the other biggest mob organization in Nueva York.” He spoke, not sparing any sweetness in his explanation, “But I didn’t tell you that his next target was you.” 

The world stopped. Everything in your body froze, a numbness settling in your bones as tears continued to crawl from your eyes and down your raw cheeks. Your sights fell on your ring finger, thinking of your ex. 

“The organization knows your family has money, and they wanted to extort them for it. Either hold you for ransom, or sell you to the highest bidder.” He concluded and everything began to make sense. Eddie always was sloppy, he loved money, and he hated the idea of you being anything but his. Once you two were separated, he’d called and left messages with screams of hateful name calling. Whore, slut, hooker, and so on, as he assumed you were having sex with other men. Of course, you actually weren’t, but you refused to answer his calls. 

He said in one message ‘might as well just have sold you when I had you, made some money off of ya.’ You never took those words seriously, until now. 

Your hands felt numb as your throat got dry, heavy breathing while your eyes blurred with more tears. You could barely make out Miguel crouching near you, and you squeezed your eyes shut now. 

“We need to go, now.” His voice was softer now, reaching out with an open palm to hold your hand. “I need you to collect yourself and seem ok for now so I can protect you, do you understand?” His instructions were less demanding and more gentle this time around, making you nod. “Good, let’s go.” He helped you up and placed his suit jacket over your shoulders, walking you out of your office and to the front desk where Hobie was waiting with a much shorter man with reddish-brown hair.

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[her-devils-advocate]

To the dark I said pour and forgot to say when

pairings: Levi Ackerman x reader

genre: hurt/comfort, angst

summary: It's starting to become too much for you, training the recruits just to watch them die. You take pride in your position within the scouts, but pride can't suffocate the growing guilt. Luckily, Levi is there to help pull you together.

warning: mentions of overthinking, anxiety, and breakdowns

@humanitys-strongest-bamf, since you wanted to be tagged once it was finished! <3 Hope it's still okay to tag you in!

word count: 2,491

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55262311

It had been a while since he had seen you, not since earlier that morning on the training grounds. You had asked if he could take over training the recruits for you, the cold and crisp morning air had felt unusually tense when you approached him, almost as if he could sense the war raging behind your eyes.

You hate having to pass up duties like that, guilt tearing you apart as you think of the long list of responsibilities that he's had to put aside for you. Not to mention that you enjoy training the cadets. You enjoy watching them grow stronger each day and doing all you can to give them the best chance they can have within the Survey Corps.

Maybe that's why you passed the morning's session along to Captain Levi instead. 

His piercing eyes followed your every move as you tried to act natural. Your shaking hands tightly gripping your biceps as you crossed your arms, throwing him a sweet smile while you made the request. The fact that he hadn’t mentioned the evergrowing paperwork awaiting him on his desk had shocked you, the common tease often thrown between you going unused, yet you didn’t dare question it in case it ruined your chance of shifting routines. 

You simply thanked him before quickly retreating after he slowly agreed to do so, missing the way his eyebrows crinkled with unease.

You take pride in your position as one of the squad leaders within the Scouts, a position you take very seriously and have worked hard to achieve. While you know better by now, you can’t help but get attached to the people under your command. How could you not with so many different and young personalities looking up to you for guidance? You care for them and want to see them thrive.

Yet each new attachment brings a fresh crack in your heart whenever a mission goes badly. No amount of training or lectures can prevent the inevitability of the world you live in; while you wish for the best when it comes to your cadets, sometimes the world wishes otherwise.

The world is cruel and the titans are merciless.

You have lost many soldiers under your command, some of whom you consider friends. You still see their faces when you try to close your eyes, guilt flooding through you whenever you realise you have forgotten a name. You can’t remember the last time you slept the whole night instead of being haunted by the suffocating past.

How can you train these fresh faces when you have so many to remember already? 

Are you even capable of training them after losing so many?

What gives you the right to survive after so many have fallen?

The thoughts are relentless as you rush into your room, you slam the door shut behind you before diving into the worn mattress on the bed. The familiar sting of tears is the only warning you get before the dam breaks and all the unwanted feelings you had bottled up begin to rush down your cheeks.

You push your face deeper into the pillow, wishing that the thin fabric would drown out the thoughts rattling around your skull. You feel miserable as your mind torments you relentlessly and a part of you feels bitter that it couldn’t wait until nightfall before starting its assault. Your mind couldn’t even give you the decency of letting you hide your shame in the shadows.

The golden rays of sunlight flowing in through the window taunt you, giving the room a peaceful haze and ignoring the despair within. You stare up at the soft light, the river of tears silently flowing down your cheeks and onto the pillow, as you simply watch the silver specs of dust float around you.

Your tears grow and your breathing quickens, how dare you appreciate such a sight when so many you care for are now unable to? 

You weakly hit the pillow, as if you could transfer the thoughts out of your mind and into its damp cotton prison instead. 

You don’t know how much time has passed, but from the busy commotion echoing around the headquarters, you can guess that training has since finished. You’re not surprised when Levi eventually finds you, although you hate him seeing you like this. 

He slowly walks over to you, and the sight of your tear-soaked pillow causes his heart to clench. He had a feeling something was off when you had spoken to him and he regrets not stopping you and asking then and there.

"Hey, talk to me." 

Levi's voice is unusually soft as he takes in your red-rimmed eyes, slightly swollen from the hours spent crying. His eyebrows are furrowed in concern as he reaches his arm out, hovering just above your shoulder, almost as if he's conflicted on whether he should touch you or not in your current state. He quickly makes up his mind as he gives it a comforting squeeze. You timidly look up at him, finally meeting his gaze. Even through the blur of tears, you can see the worry on his face as his usual mask of composure slips.

"You'll think I'm pathetic." You say quietly. If it were anyone else, you would have ushered them out of the room by now, content to be left alone to drown in your self-doubts. If it were anyone else, it would have been an order, but it just had to be one of the few members ranking higher than you who had come to check up on you.

If you were in any other mood, you might have tried to jokingly order him away, teasing him with his rank in a way you know he pretends to hate. Instead, you simply sigh. You know he’s unlikely to drop the subject when it involves you, even more so when he’s concerned. And as much as you hate to admit it, you’ve given him multiple reasons to be.

"I won't."

The sincerity of his voice makes you freeze momentarily, part of you would be fine with him shrugging and walking away, silently agreeing and leaving you alone to deal with it. It would sting, giving you yet another thing to overthink once you get through the current bout of thoughts. Not that he would leave you in such a state, but at least that way you wouldn't have to bear the heart you dedicated with all the current cracks on display.

"You should."

"I won't. Don’t tell me how I should feel." His voice takes on a stern edge, the tone softened by the grip on your shoulder tightening before he kneels on the floor before you. His eyes are determined, unwilling to let you bottle it up, much like how he would. A habit of his that he would rather keep to himself than share, for your wellbeing.

You groan, digging the heels of your hands against your swollen eyes, trying to wipe away what remains of your tears. You take a few seconds to compose yourself and to try and quiet the whirlwind in your mind, just enough to vocalise your distress. You can feel Levi’s steel eyes following every little move you make, almost as if staring hard enough would unlock all the answers for him. “If only that would work,” you think dejectedly. 

“It was just too much.” The words come out as a small whisper against your wrist. You can almost hear his mind working to connect the pieces.

“It’s just one of those days, I guess. You know the ones where you wake up and everything just feels…wrong? Then I took one look at the recruits waiting for me to train them and remembered all the other recruits that I had failed.”

His gaze softens as he takes your hands, pulling them away from your face and forcing you to look at him. Gone is the aloof and somewhat intimidating captain that the Scouts have come to know. Before you is the man behind the title of Humanity’s Strongest Soldier, the side of him that only a select few get to see.

“That’s not your fault, not now, not ever. You can’t control everything that happens when we leave the Walls and I know that you know that.” He releases one of your hands so that he can gently grip your chin, tilting your head down to look him in the eyes.

Pure determination and understanding swim within the sea of silver that stares up at you. You want to hide from his gaze, feeling undeserving of it, yet his soft hand keeps you firmly in place.

“I’m not going to bullshit you and say that all the kids we’re training won’t drop like flies in a mission one day, and frankly if you wanted to hear that, you would have gone to someone else.”

“Technically, you came to me.”

The slight twitch of his eyes almost makes the corner of your lips lift.

“What I’m trying to say before you interrupt me again, is that what we can do is our damn best to prepare them. I’ve seen how you train them and it’s impressive. You have a talent when it comes to getting the brats to pay attention. We know the risks, as do they, but at least you are giving them the best fighting chance they can get. Got it?”

You stall for a moment, mind peacefully going blank at his words. You know he struggles to show the emotions he had buried deep below the wings of freedom adorning the breast of his uniform, but seeing him try for your sake causes a new lump to form in your throat.

Your silence tests his short patience and he gently tugs your chin, almost as if trying to force you to nod and accept his words. You fight the urge to jump into his arms, squeezing him tight in response. Instead, you clear your throat to try and dislodge the emotions building up.

“Got it, and you’re right. I’m sorry for being so pathetic. I know we can’t save everyone and that it’s a naive dream in the first place, which is why I always do my best to train them as much as I can.” You give him a watery smile, blinking rapidly to prevent the new wave of tears from escaping.

“I think everything I was trying to bottle up slipped out over time and snuck up on me today. Thank you, Levi.”

You receive an eye-roll in response, yet you don’t miss the way his shoulders relax, the one hand still holding onto yours giving you a warm and reassuring squeeze.

“Good. I don’t think those kids would have lasted this long if it weren’t for the rigorous training you’ve put them through.” Levi’s voice is low as he considers his words.

“Don’t forget that and don’t let this,” he gives your forehead a light flick as if to emphasise his point, “make you its prisoner. Overthinking like this will never do you any good, trust me. If you want to talk, you know where my office is. It’s not like you don’t already waste my time chatting my ear off about four-eyes’ shitty experiments or anything.

This time, you can’t hold back as a few tears begin to slide down your flushed cheeks, betrayed by the warm relief spreading through you. You scramble to wipe them away, having cried enough for the evening and maybe even a lifetime now.

“That will be twenty extra laps around the training grounds, by the way.” 

You can hear the amusement in Levi’s voice, yet his face remains passive as he watches for your reaction. You throw him a glare as his eyes crinkle, clearly happy with the response he has gotten. Your self-doubts and tormenting thoughts are now a thing of the past with his subtle distractions, something you slowly realise was his plan all along. If annoying someone out of their misery was a sport, you figure Levi would have dozens of gold medals by now.

“Why? Is this for getting you to train my squad earlier?” Your voice is raised in pitch, the confusion evident as you cross your arms.

“No, that’s for calling yourself pathetic in my presence. Twice.”

“I’m learning to make sure you’re not in range when I do so.” You mumble, unaware that the man before you has caught your private words.

Now it’s Levi’s turn to fix you with a glare of his own, clearly not amused with the idea. You begin to fidget under the silence, wondering if you had taken it too far, too soon. Before your still anxious mind can replay the last minute, he flicks your forehead again, harder than before.

“That's thirty laps now. I’ll make it fifty if I hear a single complaint.”

You release a dramatic sigh, showing your displeasure with the command without digging a deeper hole for yourself so soon. You anxiously break eye contact, earning a small eyebrow raise in response as you fiddle with the frayed blanket beside you.

“I’ve changed my mind,” his gruff voice cuts through the silence that fell between you, catching your nervous attention once more.

“Sixty.”

“By the walls, Levi. Stop making it higher, I’m not going to complain!” You throw your hands into your lap in exhaustion, your previous breakdown having sapped any strength you had for the day.

“I just… I wanted to thank you again, for checking up on me and for making me feel better.”

He clicks his tongue in response, his hand coming up to ruffle your hair, before giving one of the strands a playful tug. You groan at the action, playfully swatting him away while rolling your eyes.

“If you want to thank me properly, then you can go and make us some tea for the evening. Bring it to my office once you’re done. Bring a book as well, I need to finish this paperwork tonight and I don’t care for whatever trouble Hange has recently caused.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” You give him a lighthearted salute before rushing to the door, not even trying to hide the excitement at the idea of spending the evening curled up in his office, drifting off to the sound of his pen gliding across paper.

Once you reach the door, his low voice catches your attention once more, rooting you in place. “Oi, I mean it.”

“What? The stupid amount of laps you will throw on me if you hear me complaining?”

“Tch, not that. I meant it when I said you could come to me. Now don’t you have tea to be making?”

You hold back a retort, feeling too happy to bicker with him, even in a playful manner. Instead, you simply nod before silently moving towards the kitchen, your heart feeling lighter than it has in months.

[hotchs-big-hands]

ngl i would genuinely get off to making haley jealous and angry because of how fucking easy it is. my personal hc here but i think she was controlling and thought she had hotch wrapped around her finger and it infuriated her that his job was the only thing he refused to listen to her about. i also think she tried to baby trap him with jack in the assumption that would "fix" their marriage and when it only made it worse she blamed aaron for never being home when she easily couldve hired a nanny or regular babysitter so she could work or do whatever. i believe she cheated bc of that one phone call to their house when hotch answered and it was a random man asking for haley before hanging up and the look hotch gave her like yeah he knew she was fucking around too. i think it made her even angrier that when she filed for divorce hotch didnt even fight her onit! didnt ask to work things out or for counseling or anything. just "okay ill sign the papers when i get back from this case"

now assuming reader is mid twenties i think your very existence would have her enraged. aaron seems happier and even healthier. hes got more color in his face, hes put on some healthy weight, he smiles and laughs now, he takes more time off work, his life has clearly significantly improve since she left him and she cant fucking stand it. she thought she was the best thing that ever happened to him and now shes seeing in real time she's actually the worst thing ♥️♥️

and you thinks its funny as hell to watch a 40 year old woman with a whole ass kid be that bent out of fucking shape because the man SHE LEFT is fine without her. like yes maam i am younger than you, hotter than you, nicer than you AND i can ride the dick just right. stay pressed bitch 💕. and when she tries interfering in your relationship hotch asks you to put up with it just for a bit because he knows hack is still adjusting to coparenting and he wants the best for his son so you let him handle his exwife until she crosses a line and tries to accuse you of some shit and aaron finally puts his foot down and haley cant believe that shes really lost complete control over aaron (haha fuck you haley)

like i fantasize about a situation where haley is trying SOOOO hard to break yall up and drive a wedge between you two and it isnt until jacks birthday or some big family function aaron brought you too and haley cant help it but lowkey stalk yall all night and so youre like "aaron watch this" and you drag him off to some secluded corner and hes like ??? but you tell him "hold on baby give it a minute. bet you anything haley pops up" and then once you hear footsteps you give aaron a big fat smooch and surprise surprise!! whos coming around the corner? why its haleys stalker ass following you two like a creep!

i literally just want to cuck haleys pathetic ass because fuck her and her scraggly blonde hair and that nappy ass wig she had on in witness protection with her no-style-no-personality-all-about-me havin ass 😒😒😒😒

sorry this is such a convoluted mess i just hate that lady 😭😭

I NEEDN'T SAY MORE THIS IS EXACTLY MY THOTS I WANT THAT WOMAN SEEEETHING AT THE SIGHT OF AARON BEING HAPPY AND THRIVING. SHE WOULD ABSOLUTELY BE THE CRAZY EX WHO PROBABLY ENDS UP HARASSING YOU.

The SECOND she says smth nasty abt you Aaron is soooooo fucking pissed. She insults you saying you're just a whore sleeping with Aaron for his money (and cuz us babes are plus-size queens she HATES THAT) and that Aaron is not attracted to you.

And Aaron OOF he takes her to one side and tells her she is fucking nothing but the mother of his child now. That YOU are his everything. YOU make him the man he is now. He's fucking happy with you as the love of his life and that Haley made him chronically stressed and depressed and almost completely ruined his self esteem. He warns her to back the fuck off from him and reader. He does not want any communication with her unless it's to do with Jack. End of.

[itsrheasgirl]

hello could write something like the reader and Dominik fight for the love of Rhea, in the end the reader stays with Rhea

THE GIRL IS MINE - PT 1

RHEA RIPLEY X FEM!READER

FT DOMINIK MYSTERIO

WORD COUNT: 2799

TAG LIST: @rebecca-quin @girlofpink

SUMMARY: EVER SINCE JOINING THE JUDGEMENT DAY THINGS HAD BEEN TENSE BETWEEN YOU AND DOMINIK. THE TWO OF YOU HAD BEEN FRIENDS FOR YEARS AND HE DIDN’T WANT TO MAKE YOU FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE BUT WHEN RHEA STARTED TO PAY A LITTLE MORE ATTENTION TO YOU OVER HIM, THE REALITY SET IN AND THE TENSION BECAME TOO MUCH. WITH FRIENDSHIPS ON THE LINE, WHO WILL COME OUT VICTORIOUS?

- - - - - - - - - - -

You hadn’t taken your eyes off Rhea as she owned the ring against Liv Morgan, each slam and each throw sending vibrations up your spine as you thrived over just how unstoppable the Australian powerhouse truly was.

To you— she was breathtaking, not one flaw plagued her.

But you weren’t the only one to see her in such lights. You could see the same glimmer in Dominik’s eyes as he watched her just as closely as you did.

You didn’t want to cross boundaries. Put a toe out of line. But lately you’d started to feel closer to Rhea than you had before joining The Judgement Day. Ever since Dominik suggested you be the fifth member to their little family, you had spent your days pining after the dark haired temptress. She was definitely your type, but you knew you could never be hers. The way she always looked at Dominik proved that.

You didn’t realize you had been staring so hard until the loud ring of victory rang in your ears and the sound of Samantha’s voice echoed through your soul.

AND HERE’S YOUR WINNER.. RHEA RIPLEY!

You didn’t question your actions as you slide across the apron and under the bottom rope, your petite frame sprinting across the expanse of the ring to joyously throw yourself into Rhea’s awaiting arms.

Your toned legs clamped around her waist as your forearms clung to her torso, raising your fist up into the air you didn’t even hesitate as you chastely pressed your plump lips briefly against her temple.

Liv hadn’t stood a chance against the women’s world champion, but Rhea had still battled with a few nerves before entering the ring. You’d promised her it would all work out and to no surprise you were right.

As your fellow stablemates entered the ring, your glistening gaze caught that of Dominik’s— he looked distraught as he took in your current position, his features lowering slightly in upset as he shifted to stand at Finn’s side.

You remained clung to Rhea like a baby koala as the ref took her free palm in his hand, raising it sky high to solidify her win over the tiny blonde as the roaring cheers of the crowd flooded the arena.

You expected Rhea to lower you back to the ground as the referee returned the championship belt to her, but to your surprise she kept one muscular arm wrapped tightly around your hips as she yanked the belt back to hold it high above her head.

Casting your crystal gaze over at Dominik as he stood at Finn’s side, you felt your heart sink slightly. You’d noticed more and more lately that you being around Rhea seemed to bother him. You hated seeing him this way— snubbed like a small child losing its favorite toy, but Rhea had been waiting for you. She’d welcomed your embrace, so why wouldn’t you take advantage of it?

Slowly unwinding your legs from around Rhea’s waist, you drop your feet down to the ring and release the fellow female from your grasp.

You really didn’t really want to make things worst for you and Dominik when it came to the public eye, things had been tense between the two of you for weeks now and being around him in Rhea’s presence was becoming a little unbearable.

You could see the confused look on Rhea’s features as you stepped away from her and allowed Damian to take the space between you, her lips parting as she went to mouth a singular word to you. Why?

- - - - - - - - -

“Hey.”

Rhea’s voice was crystal clear as she grasped at your wrist, gently pulling you into a small hidden alcove as the boys continued on ahead of you unaware. Her sapphire hues locked on your features as you slowly looked up to meet her gaze, the same perplexed expression she’d had in the ring masking across her face as she kept her hold around your wrist.

“Not now, Rhea”

You uttered, trying to pull yourself free from her grasp and attempting with no success to get back out into the hall.

“Yes, now.”

She stated with a firm tone.

“What is going on with you?”

What were you supposed to say? That sharing any kind of interaction with her— no matter what it was, was causing Dominik distress and you couldn’t bring yourself to hurt him even though being around her made you happier than you’d even been?

Swallowing back a nervous ball of saliva that pooled on your tongue, you chewed on the inside of your cheek. No matter how hard you thought you couldn’t think of a thing to say.

A small twitch shot down your spine as you felt the soft pads of Rhea’s fingertips dance under your chin, her gentle leverage tilting your jaw upward so you looked upon her features once more. Her eyes glistened— even in the darkness of the alcove, captivating you just like they always did.

“Y/N, talk to me.”

You’d zoned out thinking so hard, unaware that Dominik was making his way back in search of you and Rhea. The back stage area was so loud you didn’t hear his footsteps as he got closer, nor did you hear him calling out Rhea’s name until it was too late.

Rhea’s finger remained curled under your chin as Dominik turned the corner, her other palm still grasping onto your wrist as her shimmering gaze met that of his own.

It was like instinct, your entire frame shifting back to distance yourself from Rhea as quickly as you could. Your own gaze refusing to meet theirs as Rhea and Dominik remained in a staring match.

“You okay, Mami?”

Dominik asked. His gaze flitting between you and Rhea as his muscular forearms crossed over his chest. What was his problem? Why wouldn’t she be okay, and if she wasn’t what was he accusing you of?

“She’s fine.”

You snap as you shove past Dominik and back out into the hallway, not even bothering to look back as Rhea calls out your name. You needed to get away from them— both of them. You couldn’t be around Rhea without Dominik somehow finding his way into the situation and you were getting sick and tired of having to fight for her attention.

You weren’t sure if they were following you or if they’d taken a lovers moment to be together alone, but you refused to turn back. It hurt you to see them together and yet it hurt you more to be away from her, but you couldn’t figure out what was the best thing to do.

This was your career, The Judgement Day was your family and yet every second you were together it was eating you up inside. All you wanted was what Dominik and Rhea had— a relationship, but you couldn’t have her. She already belonged to someone else.

- - - - - - - - - -

You’d been sat alone at the hotel bar for what felt like hours, nursing you second rum and coke like it was the last drink you’d ever have. Swirling the last few ice cubes round and round the glass, you exhaled a long sigh. You knew you should be sleeping, you’re flight was in eight hours but you could allow yourself the peace to rest.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Rhea. About how she’d held you back in the ring. About the smile that had graced her lips when you’d kissed her skin. Why had she reacted in such a way with you after the match? What did it matter how you were feeling? Your feelings weren’t her priority.

Bringing the almost empty glass to your lips, you knocked back its contents before plopping the vessel back down on the bar top. You’d heard the approaching footsteps but chosen to ignore them, putting all your focus into the empty glass before you.

“So you want to tell me what I did, or..?”

You recognized the voice, but chose to keep your back facing away. You didn’t want to talk, especially not to him. After all he was part of the problem.

Dominik huffed as he stared at your back, not bothering to check your reflection in the bar back mirror as he spoke once more out of turn.

“Come on, don’t be a bitch.”

He didn’t mean it out of aggression, but with your current state of mind you took it otherwise. Pushing up off your bar stool you turned on heavy heels to face the taller male head on.

“Don’t be a bitch! Are you serious?”

You snapped. The tone in your voice full of menace. You had chosen to keep your back to him in attempts to avoid any kind of confrontation, but clearly Dominik had other plans. If he wanted to be defensive, you could be defensive.

“What do you want Dom?”

You were surprised Dominik was alone, he was more often than not attached to Rhea at the hip. Following her constantly, always laughing and joking. She never got time to be alone when it came to him and it bothered you.

“Have you seen Rhea?”

He didn’t know where she was? Now that was new.

“How should I know where your girlfriend is?”

Dominik’s features shift slightly. He didn’t expect you to be so standoffish and yet you were speaking to him like you’d had a falling out. He knew nothing of how you felt. Of how him being with Rhea tore at your heart like knives. Why would he, because he saw non of it. Or at least that’s what you thought. In your mind all Dominik cared about was Rhea. All he ever saw was Rhea. And nothing challenged that. She was his and that’s the way it was going to stay.

Leaning your elbows back onto the bar top, you arched a brow out of annoyance. You didn’t want it to be personal, but your feeling for Rhea were getting to the point where you didn’t know how much longer you could hide them and the only thing that stood in your way was Dominik.

“She’s not actually my girlfriend, Y/N.”

“Yeah well you sure as hell act like she is.”

You snap.

“Following her around like a puppy dog, making sure her attention is always on you.”

The relationship Dominik and Rhea have is scripted and you knew that, but you saw the way he looked at her. The way even the slightest thing she did made him smile and you knew— he loved her.

You knew because you felt the same.

Dominik had only ever looked at one other girl in his life the way he looked at Rhea and you knew all too well that it was love.

“What is going on with you?”

Dominik questioned, his thick brow raising skyward as he simply watched you. Judged you.

“Why are you acting so jealous?”

You didn’t understand why he was acting so clueless and making you out to be the bad guy, he knew why you were acting in such a way he just refused to admit it. You may be jealous about him giving Rhea attention, but he was jealous too.

“Jealous!”

You push off the bar top and stand toe to toe with Dominik, he was much taller than you but that didn’t stop you from meeting his gaze with a menacing glare. If he wanted to call you out, then you’d call him out. All truths on the table.

“You think I’m jealous. You’re one to talk.”

Dominik scoffed at your words, his broad shoulders flexing as he towered over you.

“And what would I have to be jealous over?”

An eat shit smirk claimed your lips as you didn’t faulted one inch in your footing, keeping your petite frame as close to Dominik’s as you could. What did he have to be jealous of? Oh you’d let him know.

“I’ve seen how childish you get when Rhea even looks at me. We can’t even breathe the same air without you butting yourself into our conversation and it’s pathetic! You’re a grown man Dom Dom—”

Your tone dripped with mockery as you uttered Rhea’s little pet name for him, knowing it would trigger his defenses because only Rhea got to call him that.

“You need to stop acting like the nerdy high school kid who thinks he has a chance with the head cheerleader.”

You could see the burning behind his eyes as each word you spoke poked at a fire inside of him, twisting a hot poker into his side as you degraded his stature within your group.

“You’re no quarterback, Dom Dom. Maybe it’s time to let someone else try and steal her heart.”

Dominik’s demeanor had shifted, his cocky attitude morphing into that of anger. You didn’t expect him to react, he wasn’t one for yelling at women but something about the topic of conversation triggered him.

“You think you stand a chance with her? She’s nice to you because I asked her to be, she doesn’t care about you. It’s all an act.”

Dominik’s words twisted in you heart, causing your breath to catch in your throat as you kept a burning gaze locked on his features. It wasn’t an act, you could tell it wasn’t. Those few choice moments you got with Rhea— just the two of you, you could see she felt something. The way she acted around you wasn’t a game to her, the sadness you’d see on her face when you walked away because as per usual Dominik had made an appearance.

Pressing your lips into a firm line, you tried your best to fight back an outburst. You didn’t want to make a scene, yes it was late— but the bar wasn’t empty.

“You’re a liar.”

You uttered softly.

“You’re a fucking liar.”

Dominik scoffed once more, leaning forward, causing you to stumble back against the bar top. Both his palms slamming down against the solid oak as he bounced his brows, his lips curving into a malicious grin.

“It’s all a game to her. She’s playing you.”

You didn’t want to believe a word Dominik was saying. Rhea wasn’t playing you. Today in the ring she’d been so disappointed when you’d climbed out of her arms. When the match was over she’d pulled you aside to make sure things were okay, to see what was going on with you. Those weren’t actions of someone who didn’t care for another. Those weren’t the actions of someone playing games with someone else’s heart.

With his arms pinning you in place, you glare up at Dominik through thick lashes. Would he stoop as low as to lie in order to keep Rhea for himself?

You wanted to scream at him. To call him out in his lies, but you couldn’t be sure of any of it. What if he was telling the truth? It would have been so easy for The Judgement Day to lie to you, they acted everyday of their lives when it came to their work. Maybe that’s all you were. A lie at work.

“Isn’t that what she’s doing with you? Pretending to be something she isn’t. You don’t stand a chance with her outside of the ring, Dom. And you know it. So instead of acting like a man and stepping aside for someone who actually stands a chance, you’d rather bully me into thinking she’s not interested in me.”

You hadn’t been paying any attention to the few people scattered around the hotel bar, nor had you been keeping track of the surrounding. All you’d been focused on was Dominik, blissfully unaware of a shimmering set of sapphire hues watching you both from the corner of the lobby.

Rhea’s plush lips pressed into a firm line as she watched the way Dominik was treating you. Locking you against the bar as he spun lie after lie about how she was just doing as he suggested. Showing you attention because he had requested she do so.

“You think she’s actually into you? Damn Y/N you’re stupider than I thought.”

Your fists balled at your sides as he continued to throw jabs your way, his words like a tone of bricks crushing you.

“This is low Dominik, even for you. And here I was thinking you’d got over it.”

Dominik’s posture faltered slightly as his gaze fixated on you, your palms darting out to shove at his chest, causing him to stumble back as you kept the distance closed.

You didn’t have to stay here and listen to him belittle you, his attitude to your words giving you the perfect out.

Placing both your palms against his chest, you reached up on your tiptoe and pressed your lips to his ear.

“You’re not the only person who could love me Dominik, move on and let me go.”

[a-magpie-in-gravesfield]

Here's the newest animation ! I wanted to explore more of the dynamic between Philip and Caleb. How Caleb spent his childhood raising his brother and needs his own space for awhile, but Philip never truly fit in with the town people and to him, Caleb is his entire world and he feels like he's losing his family all over again. Here are also some details you might have missed I really wanted to bring attention to because I put a lot of thought into them and I think it really adds a lot to the video :D (After the images I'm also including the transcript of Philip's journal and written script, in case you can't read cursive and/or want to put it into a translator)

Caleb: Oh, hello- Philip: My chores have been done. Caleb: And so quickly! How? Philip: Well… I came across the most extraordinary thing - a snake, shedding its skin, out in the forest - and I thought that we could go on a walk to see it, like we used to. And this one I could draw in my journal! Caleb: Nothing would please me more, Pip, but there’s work still yet to be done. Philip: Then let me lend you a hand. Caleb: That’s alright. Even between the two of us, it would go on well into the evening, and I’d hate for you to miss your snake. Philip: There’s always a reason, isn’t there. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you were avoiding me, Caleb. Caleb: What? Pip, that’s not- Philip: True? Isn’t it? When was the last time we spoke more than in passing? Caleb: Philip- I… [He sighs] I spent my childhood, raising you - I wouldn’t trade a moment of it for anything, but you don’t need me the way you used to. Philip: … You see me as a burden ? Caleb: No, no of course not, you’re dearer to me than anything ! But we both have to have room to thrive. Why don’t you invite one of the boys from town? You might make a new friend. Philip: You know how hard I’ve tried to fit in. They don’t want anything to do with me- us. We only have each other. Some Lady: Caleb Wittebane! I’ve yet to meet a potato that will plant itself, sir! Caleb: You must excuse me - it seems as though my singular talent is sorely needed. We’ll talk later tonight. I promise. Philip: Don’t trouble yourself. I know you’ll always be there for me. Right? Caleb: Of course. I’ll always be there.

Philip's journal :

“The boys I invited to see the snake shedding found the snake and killed it. They told me it was a sign of the devil. I know of another snake, I will try asking Caleb to come this time. but he never wants to see me anymore I’m sure he misses our forest walks too.”

“This is the third time this week I attempted to spend time with Caleb. It seems my suspicions were correct … he is avoiding me. I wish I knew how to fix it. I suggested bird watching, as I’ve noticed he enjoys carving birds the most. But he would rather be away from me. I miss having a family. Why can’t I fit in ? I will try harder.”

[yanderes-galore]

Oh! How about a platonic/romantic (either is fine) concept for the DBD Entity themselves? Like there's a survivor that the Entity favors over the others and even killers, but nobody knows why? The Entity just really likes this survivor darling for whatever reason lmao

This may not be that long but I am dying to talk about this somehow, lol.

Yandere! The Entity with Survivor! Darling

Short Concept/Idea

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Eldritch entity likes you, Dubious pairing, Violence, Murder.

Honestly I doubt this creature can feel romantic feelings towards a human at all.

At least not in the way humans do.

Although when The Entity likes someone to the point of obsession... your life in the trials is much easier than most.

After all, killers rarely get to touch you without angering The Entity.

For some reason you were picked by The Entity.

Not to suffer... not to kill... you actually have no idea what it wants.

No one does.

Survivors around you get no benefit or boost.

They still suffer the same, meanwhile your pain is either nonexistent or lesser than theirs.

You're confused... if you aren't meant to suffer like the rest, why are you here?

You rarely get to see The Entity except for its claws when it picks up survivors from hooks.

Even if it prefers you it rarely shows you a form.

Although if it did... you could expect The Entity to be spider-like.

It can change its appearance to fit what you prefer but there would probably always be a spider motif.

Its form of affection is not causing you pain.

Most of the time you're not even sent to a trial anymore.

Your world is an endless forest... only the void greets you while The Entity watches on.

It feels like you're in a painless purgatory.

The Entity didn't need to take you.

That's how you felt... after all, it liked to thrive on pain and suffering.

What did it get from forcing you to wander here... endlessly?

The Entity is a hard being to understand.

Its motives are something you'd never be able to grasp.

It's arachnid forms are always disturbing in nature, yet it never seems to hurt you much.

It touches you at times, nothing strange or invasive, it just brushes against you.

It feels like a cold wind against you.

It acts curious... like its testing the waters around you.

The Entity can easily keeps its darling to itself.

It warps the world around you... killers and survivors alike are punished with pain around you...

The Entity knows you can't leave... and you know that too.

Safe to say The Entity is a successful yandere.

There isn't much to say due to this.

It doesn't matter if you hate it, is there anyway to properly reciprocate what it feels towards you?

Do you even know what it feels towards you!?

It doesn't care how you feel towards it.

All it cares about is playing with you and your head by messing with your mind.

It thrives off emotions and experiences.

You can't fight back with it, either.

Even if you were given a weapon, you can't hurt it.

You don't even know if it can be killed.

As with most yandere eldritch beasts, there isn't too much to say.

You'll be held in The Entity's realm against your will.

Sometimes in a trial... sometimes not.

You have more benefits than others, but that doesn't mean you're happy....

You feel so alone in this warping realm at times... you're different than the others...

It truly is just you and The Entity in a world separate from the rest.

[angelltheninth]

Hii, i love ur writting so muchh! If your request is still open may I request genshin characters (if can : Gorou, Alhaitham, Thoma others is also okey!) trying to motivate a lazy reader to exercise with them, like the genshin characs basically becoming their (the reader's) personal trainer! Oh and if your confortable with it could it be gn!reader? Thank you so much!

Oh fun! If they were my personal trainers I'd be a lot more motivated.

Pairing: Thoma, Gorou, Al-Haitham x Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, teasing, working out, grinding, showing off, flustered Reader

A/N: Actually I think that if they were your personal trainer you wouldn't get much done. Well you would but... not from the training program.

Thoma has been working hard since he could walk, of course being in shape is important for his job. He loves working out early in the morning before getting the day started, its actually what can get him fired up for it all. Usually you just sigh dreamily at him and watch from the sidelines, giving him water and snacks and encouraging kisses. Now its his turn. He makes a deal with you, he'll hold your legs down and every time you manage to push up he will give you a kiss. Sound fair? Ha, he thought that would motivate you. Nope, you can't get a kiss before you start working out, those are your reward now.

Gorou has a very strict work out routine he holds himself to. As a general he needs to be an example for his unit. Likes to work out when he has company rather then by himself. That's how he gets you to work out with him in the first place. You saw how sad he was that he had no one there with him so you offered to do it together. You had no idea how intense he was about it until you were out of breath and panting on the ground with him still going and grinning down at you. You can sit the rest of it out, he'd hate for you to get muscle pain the next day because he pushed you too far. To make up for any possible ache he offers you a massage afterwards.

Al-Haitham only works out when he knows he has an audience, the audience being you naturally. As his partner he thrives on your cheers and your praise and the gleam you get in your eyes when he wipes the sweat off himself. Playfully pulls you along to work out with him too, showing you proper forms, deliberately driving you up the wall when he pushes against your butt. Knows full well what he's doing to you when he does that and uses it as motivation for you to give it your all. More working out means more stamina, and more stamina means you'll last longer when you're being intimate.

[yall-hate-kids-tourney]

Loser Round 6: Maria Ushiromiya (Umineko: When They Cry) vs. Ken Amada (Persona 3)

Propaganda below the cut:

Maria Ushiromiya (9):

She's really obsessed with occult and witch stuff and acts inappropriately when her family gets murdered because she was told by the culprit that everyone was going to the Golden Land (a super special witch afterlife where you get whatever you want). She also has meltdowns like any autistic child. Because of this, some Umineko fans say that she deserves to get abused by her mother.

----

People really do be saying that this literal nine year old who's been abused and neglected by her mom for her whole life is evil

----

Some people in the Umineko fandom have decided that she's annoying because she's a 9 year old with autism. Personally I think she's based. She has a hard life but still tries her hardest to see the goodness in everything. She's kind, even feeling sorry for a wilting flower and hoping it'll get better. She's a very smart young girl who just isn't given the proper love a child needs from their parents to thrive. She deserved SO, SO much better than the cards life dealt her. I mustn't talk too much else I'll get emotional but Maria is peak.Best autistic witch girl.

Ken Amada (11):

y'all are all for "murder and revenge plots" until is a 10 y/o boy who watched his mother die and started to become conflicted after realizing his moms killer is a secretly kind traumatized teenager to the point where the 10 y/o boy attempts to kill himself by giving himself up to assassins.

bro he's 10.

----

ken amada is such an interesting character with the unfortunate circumstances of having little screentime and atlus deciding to ruin his reputation forever by giving him a romance choice in the fem protag route. ken is a child who lost his mother at NINE. nobody ever believed him when he said that she was murdered, and that he saw who killed her. hes miserable, and all everyone around him does is give him sympathy while hes suffering and was forced to grow up before even going into middle school. hes angry and determined to get revenge on the person who killed his mother, and he doesnt even see the own value in living anymore beyond getting that revenge. hes more mature than most of his peers, and is desperate to be seen as an adult.but at the same time, he is still a child who likes superhero shows.

----

OH GOD WHERE DO I START

First there's the normal "The fandom hates kids" complaints of "He's so whiny" "he's so annoying" "oh my god kid just SHUT UP" y'know, the typical fandom stuff that makes you wonder if these people have ever talked to a child in their life

Second, there's (spoilers)...

October 4th, and the ENTIRE FANDOM is calling this kid a murderer.

For context, the moment in question doesn't necessarily paint him in the best light but its still understandable. Your team is going on a mission while Ken and another character named Shinjiro are away. In an alleyway, they have a talk where it is revealed that on that night a year priar to the game, Kens mom was killed in that allleyway by Shinjiro's Persona (Which, by the Rules of the Game Lore, basically means By Shinjiro). Ken tried to tell the authorities, the authorities didn't believe him because Magic Reasons and the death was ruled an accident.

Of course Ken is Fucking Pissed and wants revenge

However, because of Talk, he ACTIVELY CALMS DOWN, and realises "Hey, I probably shouldn't kill someone. Despite them, y'know, killing my mom"

HOWEVER REVOLVER JESUS COMES IN AND RUINS EVERYTHING BY SHOOTING SHINJIRO. AND LIKE, IF YOU PLAY P3P YOU CAN /AVOID THE DEATH THING/

AND EVERYONE BLAMES /KEN/. AND ONLY KEN.

And third (yes, there's a THIRD) IS THE FUCKING FEMC ROMANCE THING. WHICH JUST...SHOULDN'T HAVE EXISTED IN THE FIRST PLACE. BUT NOW HE'S "SHOTA BAIT" BECAUSE WE HAVE TO BLAME THE CHILD FOR THE AUTHORITY FIGURE COMING ONTO THEM 😒

[bisexualiteaa]

A Dance with the Devil

Pt. 1

CW: Raphael x F!Tav Reader, established relationship, soft Raph, smut, unprotected P in V, body worship, teaching Raphael love, maybe slight ooc and potential grammar/spelling errors. 18+ content MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

Sensual music played throughout the boudoir as your bodies moved in rhythm to the tune of the complex tango you two had been practicing for weeks, your elegant dress sashaying and swaying as you moved. Your one hand was in Raphael’s larger one as the other rested on his collarbone as your feet moved expertly together with ease. You smiled as he picked you up and twirled you around in his arms before grabbing your hand and twirling you once more. As he dipped you, his hand came to rest at the middle of your lower back, your thigh hiking up to rest against the side of his hip. His free hand held and squeezed the back of it as the song came to its end whilst you were intimately pressed against one another. A smirk plastered both of your faces as you looked upon one another, your fingers coming up to toy with the collar of his doublet as a similar intention filled your minds wordlessly. “I see you’ve gotten better since last time. Good” he said, making you hum with delight at his praise. “What can I say? I have one hell of a teacher. I’d hate to disappoint when the gala for your ascension as archdevil supreme takes place” you said in a seductive tone with a grin at your own joke, making him chuckle as your lips rested just inches apart in this position, both of your eyes wandering to each other’s lips. “How I thrive upon the idea of all the other devils watching in awe with their tinges of jealousy written all over their faces” you mused.

Your pupils were blown wide, eyes nearly blackened with lust as your heart slammed in your chest. You wondered if maybe it was loud enough for him to hear it since you were in such close proximity. “I know that look you’re giving me quite well, you devilish little minx. Has my wife once again found herself wanting of me?” Raphael spoke, making you chuckle darkly. “Well I find it hard to truly blame myself. We are in quite the…ever so enticing position. Having a handsome devil of a dance partner and husband has those consequences I’m afraid, love” you replied, making him hum. “Do continue, I do love how you paint me with your words” he said, making you bite your lip as your fingers toyed with the buttons of his doublet as you tried your best to suppress the giggle bubbling in your throat. “I can think of a few ways, and with a certain something, that you can paint me with” you insinuated, making him chuckle before his tail swatted at your behind, making you give a surprised yelp as the crack resonated through his boudoir. In truth he was only making things worse, and you were willing to bet that he knew that. “Tact sweetling, perhaps I should educate you where you lack it” he answered, making you grin. “Can’t blame a woman for knowing what she wants. I take claim of what I want, holding one’s self back is a hinderance I very much enjoy to do without. And I for one, think you love it more than you like to let on” you replied coyly. “You did marry me after all” you added, making him chuckle as he pulled you up, your chests touching now but with him still slotted between your legs, only fanning the growing heat between you from small embers into roaring flames. “Indeed I did. You do manage to keep even life eternal ever so entertaining and lively when you are present, so I suppose I’ll humor keeping you around” He teased, making you giggle. “And what kind of husband would I be to not help with your needs? Your holes are rather delightful to fill after all” he added, making you gasp in fake shock. “Tact darling!” You teased with a wide grin, making him roll his eyes despite one of his large, clawed hands slinking to your ass, groping the plush fat tightly and bringing you impossibly closer. A quiet moan left you in response, one that made a low groan rumble through his chest, stroking the growing fire in your belly. The tension in the air was thick with intention, anyone looking in could tell upon even one quick glance that you were ready to jump one another’s bones. You both leaned in to kiss one another, your eyes half lidded and tails wrapping around each other’s leg in a possessive manner to keep you close.

Your lips were just millimeters away from touching when you were interrupted by the voice of a familiar incubus. “Well this is an interesting sight” spoke Haarlep with a devious chuckle as they happened upon you both. “My, you can surely cut the tension here with a dagger” they teased with a grin, making you glare daggers in their direction to have interrupted such an intimate moment. You shouldn’t be surprised by now that time alone with Raphael hardly ever happens, between patrons signing their souls away, to his servants and Haarlep being around 24/7, yet it never fails to upset you when the moment is interrupted. “Your look is quite delicious, little mouse. To anyone else I’m sure that’d send a shiver down the spines of mortal kind, but to me you look like a pouty little pet. Someone upset that I ruined their moment? Don’t stop on my account, please by all means, do continue” Haarlep spoke, and rather than indulge them with any means of verbal retaliation, you instead turned back to your husband before shamelessly pulling him into the passion filled kiss you were going to just a moment prior. “Good girl. My, the lady of the house sure knows how to take what she wants, doesn’t she?” They teased, tail swishing around in the air behind them in delight. “I suggest you cease your pestering, lest you lose your tongue” Raphael warned, making his incubus laugh. “Please, you would never. Not when it brings you and so many others so much pleasure” Haarlep responded with a cocky tone. “It isn’t me you should be weary of” he answered, making Haarlep scoff and roll their eyes at the thought. “Begone, I wish to share in time with my wife intimately. Alone” your husband said before they could come up with another quip to his warnings, waving off the incubus who disappeared to some place else in the house with much attitude in tow.

[kivaember]

i got inspired by this piece of twitter art for flatwell and o'keeffe... really check out that art it looks AMAZING.

anyway, o'keeffe owning a plant nursery called Barren Flower with coffee shop flatwell GO!

Flatwell's cafe was an early retirement present to himself. He'd lived a long and exciting life, doing work that'll never see the light of day and recorded in documents sealed away in concrete bunkers six feet deep. It was profitable work, though, and when he hit forty he gracefully retired while he still had all limbs and his sanity.

One may say that running a cafe wasn't a peaceful retirement plan, but Flatwell thrived in being under a little bit of pressure. He liked people, for all that he hated them sometimes, and he enjoyed the mental stimulation of keeping mental profiles of the regulars, and analysing newcomers to try and predict their order and character. He also just liked talking to people - Flatwel had mastered the art of small talk by pure necessity, and he felt himself go into withdrawals if he went too long without gossiping with someone, stranger or not.

So, he got his cafe. He bought an old, empty building on the fringes of Xylem, near the touristy parts but still off the beaten path. He rennovated it, learned how to make coffee, how to bake, and slowly but surely built up a steady stream of customers and a reputation. The street was quiet, many buildings lying empty, but Flatwell was content with his retirement package.

His kids visited often, Rusty especially came with that new boyfriend of his (Raven, a little strange but nice, with an intriguing past considering his links to Walter, an old acquaintence in the business Flatwell had retired from, what a small world) and Flatwell drifted from one peaceful day to the next, content although admittedly bored at times. But that was just the adrenaline junkie side of him, he'd tell himself.

Then one day, the empty building opposite his cafe had a SOLD sign hung on its window, followed by rennovators and workers streaming in and out of it. It brought a brief boost to Flatwell's business, the construction workers walking across the street to get refreshments - and were very talkative when Flatwell generously gave them a discount for being such hard workers.

They didn't know who had bought the building, but they knew that it was being outfitted to sustain large amounts of plants. A plant nursery, apparently, which Flatwell thought was an odd choice for this location, but ultimately harmless. The person ordering the rennovations paid in cash too - hundreds of thousands just dropped, like that.

A rich person dabbling in a new hobby, maybe? A company trying something out? The mystery was mundane but intriguing, so Flatwell watched from his cafe, as the front of the building was rennovated to have a large, wide window to easily see the inside, and a set of flowerbeds were constructed right in front, brightly coloured flowers and lush green plants planted in the soft, loamy soil. He watched as more and more plants arrived, getting carted inside, set up, strange contraptions and machines Flatwell couldn't begin to guess the function of being hauled and installed inside the building. He watched as they erected the sign above the building's doors, a wilting sunflower next to the bland and frank words of BARREN FLOWER.

Interesting name choice, Flatwell had thought upon seeing it.

And almost six months after the rennovations began, the plant nursery opened its doors. Flatwell, like any good neighbour, decided to pay a visit, a quick walk across the street in the early hours of the morning, before the first few customers would arrive. He had a thermos of coffee and a bag of baked goods, oddly excited to scout out the new visitor and deduce their character and intentions.

But when he walked across the street, when he entered BARREN FLOWER with a small jingle of the door's bell, he came face to face with his past in the most unexpected way possible.

"Wow, is that you, Flatwell?" O'Keeffe asked in that dull, inflectionless way of his, dressed like a farmer with a green, soil-stained apron thrown over the top of it - a far cry from his usual shirt and tie combo. "Small world, huh?"

Flatwell's old arch-rival, O'Keeffe, of all people.

Small world indeed.

-

"So, what's with the flowers?"

Flatwell didn't look up from where he was carefully stowing that day's cupcakes into the front display case. "They're a message."

Rusty leaned on the counter, idly touching one bright red petal from one of the flowers bursting out of the bouquet barely contained in its plain green vase.

"A message, huh?" Rusty smiled impishly. "Don't tell me you got yourself a secret admirer, Uncle."

"Is that so surprising?" Flatwell drawled, straightening up and closing the hatch on the display case. He dramatically swept his ponytail over his shoulder and flashed a smile Rusty's way. "I'll have you know I'm still considered a catch."

Rusty grimaced. "Uncle..."

Flatwell laughed and stepped over to the counter, gently shooing Rusty's curious hands from the bouquet.

"Anyway, they're not from a secret admirer," he said. "They're from an... old friend, shall we say."

"Uh huh." Rusty did not believe him in the slightest, the rascal. "Old friend, sure. An old friend that sends you a bouquet of pretty flowers... it looks expensive too."

Flatwell just smiled, saying nothing. The bouquet did look impressive, and would've been expensive if it'd been bought, but he knew for a fact that the only currency used to obtain it had been nothing but time and attention. Some may say that this gave it more romantic weight, but considering the flowers in the bouquet...

Adonis' flower, painful recollection and sorrowful rememberances. Narcissus, self-love and egotism. Mixes of green and purple carnations, love between men and capriciousness, unreliability. Carolina, love is dangerous. And lastly, the ominous black dahlia: betrayal and dishonesty.

The bouquet had also been accompanied by a cabbage - profit. The joke had gotten a reluctant laugh out of Flatwell, he had to admit. He'll use it for today's salad.

"You going to give one back?" Rusty asked. He was more perceptive than others gave him credit for, and there was a knowing edge to his gaze as he said: "It's first time I've seen you accept flowers from someone."

"Hm... maybe," Flatwell said. "It'd be rude not to respond."

"I can go get some for you," Rusty offered. "I'm, um... well, I'm heading that way anyways..."

"For Raven?" Flatwell teased, and chuckled when Rusty's cheeks went pink. "I didn't realise he was a flower person."

"Me neither, but his terrifying guardian dropped a hint about how he... really, really liked gardening, and maybe I can give him something like that for his upcoming birthday..."

"In which case... sure," Flatwell took out a post it note and a pen from his apron pocket. "I'll write down what flowers I want you to get for me."

He jotted down his list and sent Rusty on his way. He already knew what his response would be to O'Keeffe's question.

Their past was a painful and thorny thing, and ill-advised flings from their careless youths had made those wounds cut even deeper. Love is dangerous indeed, and Flatwell had been a flighty, unreliable sort. Of course O'Keeffe would tread carefully, even in the twilight days of their retirement years.

Still.

They both needed some excitement in their peaceful days, right?

-

O'Keeffe stared at the bouquet resting across his bed's pillow, surprised at how unsurprised he was that Flatwell went to these lengths to give his response.

"He better not have broken my window's lock," he grumbled, moving over to inspect the bouquet. After double checking it for potential concealed razor blades or any other manner of unpleasant surprises, he picked it up, peering at the flowers.

Tansy, maiden's blush and white spider lilies.

"...this is a terrible bouquet," O'Keeffe muttered, but he felt the corner of his mouth tick upwards.

Only Flatwell would say he's declaring war on his heart.

Dramatic as always.

[renaerys]

Half Light (Obito/Ino)

Hello! I have talked a lot in the past about ObiIno and how much I like that ship. This has been written since June and I am so excited to be able to post it finally! Originally written for a zine, and published now in honor of ObiIno Month over on the Ino Supremacy Discord server. I am extremely proud of how this first part has turned out. Please give it a read if you're open to trying a new rarepair! <3

Summary: "Even a salted earth could grow fertile and flourish again, with time."

The war is over, and there is no one left to hate, no matter how hard he tries.

Rating: T (for now, but will be bumped in part 2)

Read it on AO3!

xxx

There were creatures swimming in the bilge water puddle in the corner of Obito’s cell. Nothing to be concerned about, just mindless slime eons away from developing brain cells and sentience. He couldn’t even see them, only their proliferation: jade and spongy, a stench of ripe, fetid rot. A whole colony of mold things thriving in a dark, dank shit hole. Existence for the sake of itself, no higher purpose. 

Obito watched them all day and all night. Sleep eluded him, had for years, and the four concrete walls whose cracks he’d memorized discouraged its visit. Kakashi came when his duties permitted, but he always brought more promises and reassurances and left them behind when he departed, old candy wrappers licked clean of their sugar. They lost more of their sweetness with each successive visit. 

A single drop of water sent a tidal wave rippling through the slime kingdom. It settled again after a few seconds, placid and hardly changed. The scars on Obito’s face itched. Somewhere far away, he could hear people moving around. Must be morning, shift change. Another day he didn’t bother to count, same as the last. Maybe Kakashi would visit him today, or not. 

Obito lay back on his cot and turned on his side so he could watch the murky puddle in the corner of his cell. Peace, he thought, was awfully quiet and still.

And that was fine. 

It was fine now. 

He didn’t sleep.

xxx

In retrospect, perhaps, he ought to have recognized the signs of an oncoming tsunami, but retrospect was nothing but a future excuse for present parochialism. Surely after everything, Obito should have clocked his own dismal patterns. 

It began with a girl, a tremor deep and blue, heralding a cataclysm neither of them expected. But that was the thing about waves: they birthed in trenches, in darkness, and they swelled to crashing when they finally touched the light. But by then it’s too late to stop them. 

When she walked into his interrogation room dragging a palpable weight like no one had told her their side had won the War, Obito knew the rip tide had already ensnared him. 

“Hands.” 

Blindfolded to spare her any Sharingan trickery, he gave it his best approximation and dragged his chained arms across the table. 

He guessed she must be a Yamanaka. There was no reason to drag him in here and dress him up in chakra-sapping irons other than guaranteed results. What they hoped to find rifling through his grey matter that he hadn’t already told them, that Kakashi hadn’t already vouched for, he couldn’t say. So he said nothing, resigned to just let it happen, like everything else. 

She didn’t give him any warning before she began, and Obito was sure he seized. But his body was far away now, his eyes no longer blinded as he opened them to a darkling sky over a sprawling graveyard. Despite the gloom, his Sharingan illuminated names and dates carved into each grave marker. 

The soil was moist and overgrown with dewy grass under his knee. He could smell the crushed blades underfoot and feel the epitaph carved into the granite tombstone (what an incredible technique). Shisui’s name glowed with light as he traced it, and when Obito closed his eyes, he could see Shisui smiling, hear him laughing at some silly pose Obito made while covered in potato starch in Shisui’s kitchen as he taught the kid how to prep chicken for karaage. 

(“Obito-nii, you’ve got some on your nose.”)

(“Do I? You mean, right here?” Obito rubbed his hand all over his nose until Shisui burst out laughing.)

(“Idiot! You just made it worse!”)

“Oi, we’re not here for you to reminisce. Get up.”

That foreign voice in his head ripped him from his thirteen-year-old body as if she had doused him in ice water. Obito yanked his hand from Shisui’s memory marker and looked up to find a stunningly beautiful blond woman. Her imperious stare muddled when they locked eyes, and it was in that moment that he remembered her. She’d been in his head before, twice in fact. 

Yamanaka Ino.

Sakura’s friend. She’d lost her father in the War. He’d felt the power behind that pain when she cleaved a hole in his head and trepanned herself inside to stop him from killing Naruto. 

“That looks like it was a bad one,” Ino said, her voice tight. 

Obito touched his face, and his fingers came away wet with tears. He could still smell the memory of the cooking oil from that perfect moment with Shisui. “No, it was the best one.”

Ino pursed her lips and looked away. When she spoke again, it was with steel and certainty. “I can find what I need on my own, but it would be faster if you pointed me to it. They told me you were cooperating, so.”

So, it wasn’t a request. 

Obito rose and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. He could feel the scrape of the dyed Uchiha wool upon his skin, it was so vibrant and real. He spent a lot of time in his own head, but it had never felt like this, like reliving. “Your technique is remarkable.” 

“I know that,” she snapped. “Now, if you don’t mind.”

Obito heard her dismissal for what it really was and decided not to push her. But he held on to that sharp little hook that wanted to all the same, something to spear his curiosity upon later. He snapped his fingers and conjured a flame to light their way through the ossuary of his life. “Follow me.”

xxx

Obito didn’t sleep much that night after Ino’s interrogation, but when he did, he dreamed of Shisui in vivid color. That surge of blue before the crash, where gravity can’t catch you and everything isn’t perfect, but it’s possible. 

And when he awoke, his breath came short and his eyes were wet, and his lips throbbed around that unspoken name that had hooked something still wriggling for its life in the pit of him. 

Yamanaka Ino.

He watched the slime creatures persist in their hateful little corner as he waited for the guards to bring him back to her interrogation room. 

xxx

Whatever she asked for, he showed her. The Kannabi Bridge, Rin’s suicide, Madara’s manipulation, all of it. And the more he pieced together the serrated edges of his life, the more disgusted he grew with himself. 

Killing Itachi’s teammate to make him tap into his power. 

Murdering the Uchiha Clan and sparing Sasuke only to sink another hook into Itachi. 

Minato and Kushina. 

Konan. 

None of them touched his heart like that memory of Shisui had. He simply accepted the atrocities he’d committed, sane or not, and waited for her to ask to see the next one. 

At some point, she lost whatever stolid patience she’d been holding on to. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Obito was taken aback at her venom. Aside from that very first session when she’d caught him crying over Shisui’s memory, she’d been nothing but clinical and detached watching the grotesque visions of his crimes replay before her. Now, her star-blue eyes boiled to behold him, and her painted lips twisted in a snarl like this was personal.

He considered her question, and he felt that hook dig in marrow-deep. He smiled wryly. “I think, by now, you oughtta know.”

Levity was the wrong decision, insofar as wrong meant her fist in his face. He went down hard, caught off guard and shocked to feel that his lip was split and bleeding in a figment of his imagination. Ino’s rage was real enough. It shimmered around her and cast a pall over the mausoleum they’d staked out for today’s interrogation. It was all his memories of the War interred in a white marble sarcophagus, organized chronologically by increasingly unhinged bloodshed until Naruto clocked some sense back into him. 

The poetic irony made him want to smile some more. 

Ino’s tears, angry and sharp to the scent, did not. “How can you just watch all this and feel nothing? You know this is your fault, right? Top to bottom. And you just stand there like it’s nothing to you?” She got down on her knees and grabbed the collar of his fine, dream yukata, shaking. “They’re all dead, and you’re fucking smiling.”

The memory palace shimmered around them, in tune with her emotions giving it shape and structure. It was like experiencing an earthquake where the walls collapsed but the floor held strong underfoot. 

Obito didn’t smile as he took her wrists in his hands and held on. She was so close he could see the violet fissures in her irises. “Yeah, they’re all dead.” Her wrists were thin in his large hands, so small for someone capable of so much. “But I’m still here. And ain’t that a hell of a punchline?”

Ino’s tears were a sight, the flush of her anger even more so. It was more than she’d given him since they were enemies on the battlefield and he was actively trying to kill her comrades. How she could hold on to such passion after losing so much made him stare right back. 

For her, as for him, the War had never ended. There were still bodies to bury and secrets to exhume. But Obito had long given up any desire to win. 

“Your father,” he said. “He died in the War, yeah?”

She shoved him hard onto the marble floor.“Don’t you dare talk about my father.”

Her knuckles were white and shaking under his thumbs. She was on top of him now, pinning him down. He wouldn’t resist. Even if she conjured a knife to gut him, he wouldn’t fight her. Could he die in his own mind? He supposed he’d already done that once before, so how much worse could it be this time?

“Ino,” he spoke her name aloud for the first time, and she heard it. Strange in his voice. Husky and trampled, like he’d survived a drowning, but barely. “I can’t give you back what I stole from you. But I can give you anything else you want. Just ask.”

She bared her teeth at him. “How about I ask for your life? Will you give me that?”

“Anything,” he said, meaning it. Wishing it. 

It wouldn’t be so bad to die at the hands of a beautiful woman who knew him, knew everything. It was more than he deserved. 

She shoved him hard against the floor, and he was once again amazed at how real this all felt. Better than any genjutsu. Her long bangs tickled his face as she leaned over him. If these were different circumstances where he wasn’t a former war criminal responsible for her father’s death, he would think she meant to kiss him. 

“No. I’ll never ask you for that. I want you alive and walking the streets of this village where everyone can see you. I want you haunted.”

Obito didn’t have the breath to refute her. There was only her, only him, and the tidal abyss into which they had plunged, and he had never planned on fighting. 

She pushed off him, dusted off her skirt, and winced at the drawers each holding the human cremains of the War’s victims. Obito’s victims. He didn’t move from his sprawl on the pristine floor. 

“We’re done here,” Ino said. “I’m not spending another second in this fucking charnel house.”

In his eternal weakness, Obito wished he could follow her out of this place and never look back.

xxx

When Morino Ibiki himself came to Obito’s cell a couple days after Ino’s final interrogation to tell him he was being released, Obito’s only surprise was for how quickly the Jounin Council had come to a decision. As arguably Konoha’s top enemy of the state, Obito had at least expected a day in court, some backroom negotiations, angry pride on the line. 

“That was fast,” he said, sitting up on his cot. 

Ibiki pursed his lips. They were fat lips, two pink worms trapped too close to each other and very unhappy about it. He’d been a weird, unpleasant kid, and he’d grown up to be a weird, unpleasant man. “It would’ve gone faster. Yamanaka made a compelling case for you.”

Obito found himself without words to respond to that. What could he even say? What did it mean? Why would she… After everything she’d seen—

“You’re a son of a bitch, Obito. You know that.”

It was that ugly honesty, brutally delivered, that Obito found he could respect. “Yeah, I know.” 

“Don’t fuck this up like you have everything else you ever did.”

Obito prayed to all the gods that had forsaken him years ago that he wouldn’t. 

Ibiki waited for him outside his cell while he lingered a final moment. He had long ago committed this tiny room to memory, and he knew these four walls and their mildew musk would stay with him until the end of his days. He cast a last look at the slime proliferating in the corner puddle. The microbes would no more sense his absence than they had his presence. That thought made him immensely sad. 

“Or I could just leave you here, if you prefer?” Ibiki said gruffly. 

Obito went with him. 

“Yo.” Kakashi was waiting with a full squadron of ANBU when Obito and Ibiki emerged from the bowels of Torture & Interrogation’s headquarters. He looked so out of place in the Hokage’s robe he’d donned over his typical Jounin uniform. Swimming in it where Minato had worn it with grace and presence. 

Haruno Sakura was with Kakashi’s entourage, politely professional as she intercepted Obito. “I’d like to do a quick check-up, make sure you’re all clear.”

Clear of what, Obito couldn’t fathom. He was not sick with anything her medical ninjutsu could possibly heal. But he had learned quick enough that it was best not to argue with Sakura, so he let her push him into a private office to examine him.

She asked him to remove his shirt, and he obeyed. Sakura had seen him wearing far less before, and she didn’t flinch at the trenches of scar tissue bisecting him. Her hands were small and cold when they touched his bare chest and scanned him with chakra. Most things about Sakura were small, but only her hands were cold. He wondered if Rin would have turned out something like her if she’d lived to reach twenty-one. Small, tranquil, and hands like winter iron. 

Sakura’s eyes flickered to his as she worked. “Naruto wanted to be here for your release, but Kakashi sent him on a mission to cool off. The debate got pretty heated.”

Obito imagined that was putting it mildly. “I hurt a lot of people.”

Sakura didn’t try to deny it. She just continued to work on him. Then, softer: “If it wasn’t for Ino’s testimony, I think you would have been stuck in that cell for another six moons.”

He grasped her wrist gently and waited until she was looking right at him. “Why?”

“Because that’s her job. She finds the heart of people.”

“The heart.” He tongued around the word like a bloody hole in his gums where a rotten tooth had once lodged. 

“You were used, Obito. Split in two. And I think, after we learned the truth about what happened to Itachi, a lot of us weren’t willing to let the village fail you too. Not when you’re clearly trying to make amends.”

She removed her hands from him, job done, and Obito felt the tug on the hooks under his skin waking him up. Sakura was already upright and handing him back his shirt when he put the image of Ino out of his mind, where her specter dwelled now among the graves, seeing all and sharing nothing. 

“I’d like to,” he said, never more sure of anything in his life. 

Sakura heard something of his conviction. Her smile was sad, but it was hopeful too. Yes, he decided as he followed her back outside. Rin would have shared your faith. 

After all, Kakashi had passed down a part of their shared legacy to Sakura himself. 

“What an honor guard,” Obito said after Sakura departed and he fell into step with Kakashi. The ANBU squadron took to the rooftops, out of sight but never far. 

“Well, you’re the better shinobi, so I have to compensate with something.”

“Don’t say things like that.”

“Like what?”

“That.” Obito gestured at all of Kakashi. “Self-deprecating shit. You know. It’s not you.”

Kakashi’s gaze niggled, like a tickle in his back Obito couldn’t reach. “Guess not.”

It was awkward walking through Konoha side by side with Kakashi. For one, he was the Hokage now and stuck out like even more of a sore thumb than usual in his office’s raiment. For another, he was walking alongside a former war criminal who had orchestrated the ruin of this very village not once, but twice. Obito was plain and understated in grey ninja gi, but the scars on his face mapped the holocaust of his life’s poor choices and made him a moving target for the scorn and suspicion of the very people he’d forsaken. No one approached them as they made their way past restaurants and clothing stores, around the Academy building and through the heart of downtown. But they stopped to gawk and stare, to whisper amongst themselves. 

And Obito realized Kakashi’s game. “You want them to see me. Us.” He grabbed Kakashi’s elbow and stopped them in the middle of the street to make Kakashi look at him properly.“Why?”

Kakashi still wore his mask even all these years later, and he was just as difficult to read. Obito wanted to shake him. “You know why.”

He knew why, and it was a stupid reason. “This won’t change anything. You know that. My face—” he touched the web of bumpy ridges over his cheek, “my face is literally the face of the enemy. I’m their boogeyman. I always will be. None of this matters.”

Around them, people had stopped to gawk. “It matters to me. It matters to Sakura, and to Naruto, to Sasuke and the other Jounin who voted to acquit you.” Kakashi took Obito’s wrist in his hand and revealed his face. “There are a lot of people who want to see you atone, but they also want you to live. We’ve all had enough of death.”

Obito might have laughed in his face for that one if his heart didn’t hurt thinking of how Kakashi’s team must have advocated for him to a room full of angry Jounin. After everything he’d put them through, especially Naruto. So he didn’t laugh. He didn’t argue. He just rubbed his eyes to stave off the tears that wanted to fall, but they didn’t. “Yeah,” he said, reedy. “On that much, we agree.”

When Obito realized where Kakashi was taking him, though, he faltered. It had been decades since he’d last set foot on his ancestral lands. He wouldn’t welcome him here, if he had any say in the matter. 

Kakashi noticed his hesitance. “Sasuke suggested it.” 

That did the opposite of making Obito feel any better. “The hell he did. After everything I did to him—to Itachi, I can’t—”

“You can. You will. This is the deal. Sasuke’s on mission outside the village more often than not. Someone has to look after this place.”

Obito curled his lips in a sneer. “So, what. I’m his chief of staff now? His valet to shine his shoes and polish his silver while he’s in Oto doing fuck-all?”

Kakashi actually laughed. “Would it make you feel better to know you’ll get a stipend?”

“What do you think?”

Kakashi put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “I think you have a second chance to lay your ghosts to rest. No one will bother you here. You’ll have free rein of the estate. Obito.” Kakashi brought his other hand down on his shoulder, caging him in. “I want you to live. So please, live.”

Obito couldn’t very well argue with that, so he accepted the keys and let himself inside the hollow halls of Sasuke’s home and marinated in the silence for a few heartbeats. Alone (ostensibly, though the ANBU guard would surely be lurking about monitoring him), he touched his hand to the wall in the entrance hall. Cold. Wood. Smoothed from years of people catching their balance to turn the corner to the foyer. 

He wondered about the slime in his cell. If a cleaning crew had power washed it out of existence by now, sanitizing the cell for its next inhabitant. 

The Uchiha Compound was quiet as a crypt, and Obito treaded lightly through its halls, careful not to disturb the dead. 

xxx

He didn’t get out much, though not for lack of wanting. It was a strange predicament Obito found himself in: the haunted walls full of dead bodies drove him out, but the living equally shut him out when he escaped into town. No matter where he went, Obito was a pariah in his own skin. 

All his clothes were branded with the Uchiha crest. Dead men’s clothes. He suffered it as long as he could before he couldn’t stand the sight of himself in them without wanting to throw up. It would be worth the stares and the whispers to be able to dress in something that hadn’t once belonged to someone he’d murdered. 

But when he arrived at the tailor this fine, sunny day, he noticed several familiar faces in the window—Yuuhi Kurenai, Maito Gai, and Ebisu. They had Kurenai and Asuma’s daughter with them, a toddling little thing being fitted for a kimono. Obito made the mistake of staring too long, and Kurenai startled to see him watching them through the window. 

Obito was out of there so fast he didn’t even hear Gai calling out to him. Kakashi was one thing; no matter what Obito did, he was fairly certain Kakashi would stand by him until they both burned. But the others, those who’d once called him a friend before he killed their lovers and crippled their bodies, suffered no such delusional loyalty. 

He couldn’t face them. Not like this, without warning. He’d just come back later, kill a bit of time until they left. 

Feeling quite sorry for himself and also rather embarrassed, Obito ducked into the first shop he came across after he’d stopped literally running from his problems. Immediately he was struck with a heady euphoria. Roses and honeysuckle perfumed his every breath, instantly soothing. Monsteras and calatheas and alocasias made a wilderness of the little shop, their fleshy leaves thick and vibrant green and sprouting from giant, ceramic planters glowing in royal blues and shiny blacks. 

Obito scanned the maze-like interior packed from floor to ceiling with green and flowers, overwhelming. Ever since his rebirth under Madara’s care, he had found himself drawn to flora in all her forms, a side-effect perhaps of Senju Hashirama’s cells that had remapped his broken body and filled in his craters. 

A neon philodendron hung several feet down a nearby shelf, its leaves bright and limey, hearts that fell in a cascade like a woman’s long hair. He traced the tender leaves with his fingers, reveling in the sparkling life he felt teeming within. If he closed his eyes and breathed, he could imagine a sort of peace here, surrounded by green and listening to the sound of running water from a fountain in the wall. 

He wandered deeper into the shop, past pothos and begonias, bromeliads and daffodils, touching their petals as he went. But it was the sight of the woman re-potting a bunch of hydrangeas that stole his breath. 

Beautiful was his first thought as he watched her deft hands work the soil and the roots, tucking the plant into its new box as if it were precious. Her blond hair was long and thick, her frame slender and fit, and she moved with a surety in herself that announced confidence, boldness. 

Oh, fuck, was his second thought when he recognized her. 

“Welcome to Yamanaka Flowers! How can I help…”

“Yamanaka Ino,” Obito said, hoarse. 

Ino was flushed from her work and speechless as she stared right back. It only lasted a moment, though. That dewy serenity she’d found tending to the plants morphed into the cold, hard bitch-sona he’d come to know well from his own interrogations. 

“Uchiha Obito.”

She was tense, a thread pulled so taut it would unspool and eventually snap. Obito had not anticipated meeting her again, she who knew every rotten abscess, every gangrenous wound upon his soul. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, which could not possibly be enough, but it was all he felt was appropriate to say to her now. 

Ino didn’t accept his shitty apology. She didn’t rage at him, either. She just continued to stare at him, as if she couldn’t understand how slime like him had managed to slither his way into her shop uninvited, and then she laughed. 

It was not a kind laugh. “You’re sorry.” 

Obito stepped closer, suddenly desperate for her to believe him. “Ino, please, I only—”

“Shut up.”

Obito stopped in his tracks. Ino removed her soiled gardening gloves and tossed them aside. He had never in his life been so unsure of how another person would react to him. Even Madara had had a certain cadence about him, manic and aggressive, but consistent. Ino was an unknown agent. 

But he had to know. 

“I’ll go,” he said calmly. “But before I do, I have to know why you did it.”

“What did I do?”

“You vouched for me. At my trial.” Then, as an afterthought (or an excuse): “Sakura told me.”

“Did she.”

Obito thought about the muck in his old cell then, how it had shuddered at the impact of a tidal drip in its puddle, and wondered at the wreckage it had endured. He clenched and unclenched his fists, but Ino faced him as cold as porcelain. “I don’t understand why you did. You saw everything.”

“Everything,” she repeated. “Yeah, I did.”

(“I want you haunted.”)

Was that really why? Her threat loomed large, a tumor in his heart fed daily by the silence of the crypt that was the Uchiha estate and the distant looks from the people he’d once called friends before they turned their backs and he’d shoved a sword through them. 

And yet, he didn’t believe her. That anger, that venom she’d afforded him when she first began their interrogations wasn’t gone, but it was buried under something denser. And it scared him—what could weigh her down more than grief? Than vengeance? 

He reached for her, and like a threatened animal, she tensed. Her steadfastness made him shrink before her, cautious. “I’ll go. You never have to see me again. Just, please. Tell me why.”

She watched him intently, her star-blue eyes murky with some unknown emotion. She was more raw in person than she’d been in his mind, and he didn’t know what to make of that. “You really think I owe you even that much?”

“No. The opposite, really. But I never believed in quid pro quo. I’ll leave on your word, even if it means I’ll die never knowing why.”

The emotion he’d noticed wavering in her gaze steeled now, and she was in his face in a flash with her fist in his shirt front. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

She shook him hard enough that he bit down on his tongue. “That,” she snarled. Snarled, like a beast. “Playing the martyr. If you wanted to be mourned, you should’ve just died with the rest of them.”

He dared not resist her as she pushed him against a shelf and rattled a few pothos in their planters. “I’m sorry—” 

“Stop. Fucking. Apologizing.” She punctuated each word with a slam against the shelf, and this time a planter did fall. Obito snatched it before it could shatter on the floor on reflex, but a bit of soil spilled out of it and jostled the leafy plant. Ino didn’t seem to notice at all. “I’m sick of hearing it.”

“Then tell me what you want.”

(“I want you haunted.”)

He winced. Haunted he was, by his crimes, by the deaths of his comrades, by this woman who’d peered inside his shattered mind and leeched him of all his secrets. So haunted he couldn’t sleep at night under the shockwaves of her crawling into his head and unwrapping him before her. 

She was looking at him strangely now, searching his ruined face for something. “I want my dad back.” Tears in her eyes, but they didn’t fall even as she clutched him harder like she meant to exhume him from his own flesh. “I want to hear him laugh again. I want to ask him what I should do when the elders of my clan come to me demanding I take a husband, churn out an heir, make some new political alliance.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I want help, and he always knew how to help me the most.” When she looked up at him again, it was with an exhausted resignation glimmering with the last vestiges of her anger. “But I don’t have him anymore. All I have is you, and I can’t even hate you.”

Obito was so stunned by her honesty that he didn’t know what to say. The planter grew heavy in his hand, so he set it on the shelf next to him. Ino’s wrists were thin, but they were also warm under his fingers when he allowed himself to touch her. “You can, if it helps. I can take it. I’ll take all your hatred if it’ll help you.”

“Stop it,” she said, making him wonder if he would ever do anything right for her, and at the masochistic desire he felt to keep trying. “I hate that about you the most.”

“What?” Their voices were low now, intimate. 

“That you’re a kind man.”

Kind was the last thing Obito felt these days. Even if the things he’d done had not been his choice of sound mind and conviction, he’d still done them. Her father, among so many others, was still dead. Obito was still here clinging to someone who saw no point in running from him because he couldn’t even be the cruel monster she needed him to be. 

“I don’t know how to forgive you,” she confessed. 

“You don’t have to.”

“I shouldn’t want to, either.”

“Ino…”

Her name in his voice broke her out of the spell this strange conversation had cast upon them both, and she pulled away. Madly, he tried to hold on, wishing she’d stay. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had held him like she just had, mighty yet impotent in the face of what to do with him beyond feel. 

“Please,” he said, nearly desperate as she receded from him. He didn’t even know what he was asking for anymore, only that whatever her word he would swallow it, thorns and all, and bind himself to it. Of all the people he’d hurt and of the very few who had helped him anyway, Ino rose giant. 

She put a hand on her hip and looked back at him over her shoulder. “That pothos you knocked over. I’m billing you for it. Don’t let it die.”

Later, when Obito was back at the Uchiha Compound still wearing a dead man’s clothes and staring at the little plant Ino had forced him to adopt, he considered her directive. She’d never know if he neglected it, forgot to water it, even dumped it into the trash. No one would. No one dwelled here but him now, and no one had visited in a very long time. 

He dug out an old watering can from Mikoto’s gardening shed that looked to be about as old as Sasuke, cleaned off the dust under the outdoor spigot, and filled it with clean tap water from the kitchen sink. The pothos didn’t need much; it was still quite small. But he showered it until water drained through the hole in the planter and set it back on its new perch in the kitchen window. 

Its leaves were glossy and smooth under his fingers. Thick with health even after the tumble the plant had taken. It would grow well and strong under the morning sunlight, with a little bit of care. 

Obito smiled in the stillness of the Uchiha Compound. He felt the weight of ghosts at his back, their hands upon his shoulders, as he often did living here among his butchered kin. 

“A life,” he said. 

It had been a long time since he’d nurtured one of those. But perhaps that was the trick of it—nurturing. Slime could proliferate in weak light and stagnant water, but it would always remain slime. Even a tidal wave’s crashing was a forcing function, if such function was to rinse foul bones and scour them with salt, leaving nothing but raw roots behind. 

Even a salted earth could grow fertile and flourish again, with time. 

Alone in this huge, empty house with nothing to keep his attention but a precious, little plant entrusted to him by the woman who’d given him back his life, Obito had nothing but time.