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won4ver · 3 months

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✈︎a poet’s draft

↳ teaser

You were convinced that Sunghoon was incapable of loving, and he was prepared to sacrifice everything to prove you wrong.

pairing : streetracer!sunghoon x singer!afab!reader

warnings + genre : readers kinda mean. exes to ??. [warnings will be added to the main fic]

teaser wc : 1.1k | fic wc : ~10-15k

release date : ??

a/n : listened to vroom vroom by weeekly on repeat while writing the teaser… been so excited about putting this one out, it’s been brewing in my drafts for a few days. i’m almost done the full fic so it’s coming very soon

playlist [updated frequently]

“You know, I was in love with you” As the words tumbled from your mouth in a wisp of blue, it travelled throughout his bones drawing red where your words cut. His head snapped to you as his cuts cried, the familiar numbing pain crawling up his throat as it burned, swallowing itself as he attempted to speak.

“I even thought we were going to get married” His heart raced like an invisible clock, ticking away in his mind as your love grew purple.

Purple, his favourite colour was now nothing more than the venom dripping from the teeth of the serpent wrapped around his fresh wounds, mocking him for his unfulfilled love. The purple streaks that once coloured your hair in the plethora of his love, were now dyed over with a striking blonde.

“You were my everything, Sunghoon”

His absence created a separation like water and oil, the reds and blues pulling apart as he broke your heart in a quick decision. He was red, of course, he took your favourite colour with him.

The comforting red that you once blushed across his cheeks was now staining his firsts as they dripped with blood, the comforting red was nothing but a distraction. You once loved red, but now you hated it more than anything.

“But then I saw that I was nothing to you”

You were red until Sunghoon touched you, until he made you fall in love with him by whispering sweet nothing in your ears under the morning dew beneath the pale blue sky. You were stained purple until the red dripped out like a faucet.

The path left by your shed tears was an abstract of delusion, Sunghoon didn’t know how to love. He proved the point when he left without a word, the tears now dried upon your cheeks.

“And I foolishly believed that you responded with equally returned love” His mouth filled with the taste of copper, the red landing on his tongue as he bit his lip. The invisible clock froze, his body numbed as your words repeated in a record of self-doubt.

“But then I realized, you don’t know how to love Sunghoon. I’ve always struggled with forcing myself to believe in a lie.” You turned your head towards him, eyes leaving the beautiful sunset to stare into the void of Sunghoon, his hypnotising eyes blurred with faux tears.

You let yourself scoff, shaking your head as you stared at the man beside you, his palms shaking as they twiddled with each other. “You're nothing more than a poet's draft, your rhythm fell out of touch with the one of the world.”

The invisible clock chimed as the red flames licked at it, unfrozen as Sunghoon’s tears raced down his cheeks. He couldn’t breathe, his chest filled with smoke as the fire of the clock burned him. “N- no that's not true, I loved you more than anything” He stuttered, shaking his head as the salty tears landed like lava on his hands.

“I love you like the wind-” You cut him off, “No you didn’t Sunghoon, you became the wind.” He shook his head back and forth, his lips trembling as his head began pounding, his heartbeat loud in his ears.

“You destroy everything in your path, like a hurricane tearing through my heart. You took everything I had, leaving me with nothing but your destruction.” You looked away from the man who left you in the wake of his timeless parallel of ruining everything he’s ever touched. Sunghoon wasn’t made to love but to be loved.

He found love in you, at one point in time he truly believed that you were the only type of love he’d ever experience, up until he fell into the blinding headlights of his soon to be downfall. He should've known he couldn't have both you and the races.

Once upon a time, Sunghoon would've chosen you over anything, but now he had his entire career to lose. He lost you as he sped towards the finish line, his black visors blocking the blue waves washing off of him. He was rendered colourblind the moment he no longer had you, his permanent red-coloured glasses staining his vision.

Sunghoon needed you back, but would he risk everything he has now to get you back? He once built you a castle made of cards, long before he was consumed with the storm whistling inside of him. He wasn't always the wind, he was once a delicate flower being held in your palms. But things were different now, your shared clock ticking in your ears as the rest of your castle slowly tumbled down. The cards were scattered, ready for Sunghoon to collect them once again.

But as he looked down he could only see one card, the back side laid against the grass beside his feet. The jack of hearts. A smile rose on his lips as the haunting red colour shone brighter than ever.

“Hey, I have a race in about half an hour” Sunghoon looked up at you from beneath his lashes, a nervous smirk on his face, “can you, uh, come?'' The deadpan stare you sported on your face made Sunghoon sheepishly raise his hand up to scratch at the back of his neck.

“I mean- it would mean the world to me if you showed up” He picked at the grass in the exact same spot where the card was laid out, the long shards ticking his fingers as he held his breath.

“Are you going to win?” You ignored his question, your head tilting to the side as you watched him in a narrowed gaze. A teasing smile kissing your lips as you watched him excitedly nod his head.

“I’ve always won for you.” And Sunghoon did. Every single race you were the only thing on his mind, his scenarios raising with the speed of his car. He would imagine you waiting for him at the end, your arms wrapping around him as soon as his door opened. The loud cheers coming up as nothing as he was cradled in your embrace.

In his mind he would hold you, your soft encouragements softening his batted mind. In his mind he built a life around your absence, creating his own version of you in replacement of his loneliness.

In his mind he never had to choose between you or his career, he wouldn’t have left you in the middle of the night because he knew he wouldn’t be able to go with your pretty eyes staring back at him.

“Today won’t be any different” But it would be different, Sunghoon knew it would change everything. You would no longer but just a fragment of his delusions, but you would actually be standing there- for him.

“I’ll have to see if I can make the time” And for the first time ever, you lied to his face.

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gothicbabydollz · 1 year

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You try to run away from dark!Azriel and he's not very happy about it.

Warnings: dark, dubcon, prey/predator vibes, azriel’s a bit delusional

Read at your own risk

↬ 𝐑𝐮𝐧, 𝐫𝐮𝐧, 𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 ↫

In…

Out.

In…

Out.

Your lungs burn. Each breath feels like sucking down broken glass. You’ve never been one to really care about staying fit, though now you curse yourself for it. Pure adrenaline is all that’s keeping your legs moving. You can’t stop. You can’t rest. There’s no time to spare in this situation.

In all your time spent as his prisoner, locked away. A damsel in distress. Although there’s no knight in shining armour coming to your rescue. Only the beast, who taunts you, watches over you, makes it impossible to every run free.

Until tonight.

So you took your chance, ran off, barefoot and half dressed. Hoping to put as much distance as possible between you and the winged male. He frightens you. A towering bulk of dark skin and even darker features, perfect for blending into shadows. You wonder if he’s watching you know, hiding in the darkness, waiting to strike. Releasing a sob, you push forward. If he wasn’t so…so fucking insane, you would probably yearn for a male like him.

The stray branches are invisible to your eyes, as you try your hardest to keep up pace, whipping through the tree line to possible freedom.

That’s why a surprised shout escapes you when your foot is sliced as you step down on splintered wood. Your hands are next, bracing your landing as you fall forward. Fresh tears soak your cheeks, hot against your skin. “No, no, no, no,” you cry, scrambling to get back on your feet, “Fuck.” Your foot throbs in pain, your palms scuffed, knees bruised. Yet, you keep going, using the trees for support as you limp forward. Your lip bleeds from how hard you bite, trying to keep your sobs at bay. The sound would draw too much attention.

You make it another 10 yards before you feel his presence. The temperature drops to freezing and chills cover the expanse your body. You halt, clamping a hand over your mouth as you cry harder. Knowing you’ve been caught. There’s no use trying to run or trying to hide. The male has told you countless of times how much your scent affects him, how he could sniff you out from miles away.

Something wraps around your bare ankle, wispy yet strong. You don’t get the chance to look before it’s pulling hard. You’re flung back onto the ground from the sheer force it possesses. Dirt, leaves and branches tug at you as you’re dragged along the forest floor. Fingers scrambling for purchase, as pain nips at you from every direction.

You stop. And silence fills the space. You try to push yourself up, eyes darting the surrounding area. As soon as the quiet began, it ends. A large hand grips your shoulder and you squirm as you’re flipped onto your back. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” The male glares down at you, venom laced in his voice, that scarred hand of his now squeezing your jaw in a vice like grip. “Stupid girl, you could have been killed. What would I have done then huh? Mates don’t fall from fucking the sky!” He jerks your face, as if trying to shake sense into you. He’s cages you to the ground. His face right above yours. His knee trapped between your thighs, pressing into your core. Heat blossoms reluctantly. Your unconscious attraction makes you sick to the stomach.

Breathing heavily, you glare right back, seething. “I’m not your fucking mate!”

You regret the outburst the moment those words leave your lips. The male goes still…quiet. However you can see the rage bubbling behind his eyes. You can’t help the pathetic sob you let out, truly scared he’s going to kill you and leave you out here for the animals to fight over. “If i was to check right now…would your cunt be wet?”

You almost choke with surprise.

Lips tight and quivering, you shake your head as best as possible. Not trusting your own voice. He grunts, shifting to slip his hand down between your bodies. Your eyes widen, yet all he does is smile down at you. As if he already knows the answer. Your underwear is ripped from your body with ease. You whimper as thick, warm fingers slide through your folds, damp with slick, as expected. The male chuckles darkly. Gotcha. He says with the action.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” You try, involuntarily bucking your hips when the heal of his hand brushes your clit. He plays with your slick, palm grinding purposely against your clit as he speaks, “Oh, but it does. You hate me….but your body doesn’t.” His canines flash in the moonlight streaking through the trees, he’s grinning as he notes your body’s reaction to the stimulation. Your breath turned shallow, brows furrowed, lips parted. “Your body knows your soul intertwines with my own, even if you’re too dumb to realise.” He scoffs, yet leans down, hot breath fanning over your skin as he nears your ear, “Tell me this doesn’t feel good,” He whispers as two fingers slowly sink into your cunt, your walls hugging him immediately.

You can’t stop the way your eyes roll back, or the pleasured sound which leaves your throat. “Let me show you we’re meant to be, bunny,” he says, softer than how he spoke before. His fingers curl against your walls and you mewl, squirming. “Let me show you…and maybe, just maybe i’ll forget the little stunt you pulled tonight.”

#azriel #azriel smut #dark!azriel #azriel x reader #dark fic #azriel x reader smut #azriel acotar

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paintbrushnebula · 2 months

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I want Miles to be shown dealing with PTSD from Miguel's assault for the first third of Beyond's plot. Like even for a significant amount of time after he's been found by Gwen and the band, he's freaking out at everything. He stares at shadows, fearing that one of Miguel's loyal spiders could be lurking. He gets antsy when the gang insist on making a pit stop to rest or do something important (idk what the overall plot structure is gonna be like) because what if they get ambushed? He freaks out about going to any new location because he thinks they might be walking into a trap (or they're walking him into a trap). He'll outright refuse to be left behind himself alone for a moment once he's finally reached the point where he trusts his friends again. We just bear witness to Miles in this constant state of terror for the first third or so of the film, with so much to fear while not knowing what will happen to him in the end.

And he will be struggling to bottle up all this pent up stress and terror he's amassed in the past 24 hours with nowhere healthy to put it because he still doesn't know who he can trust and also because he's Miles and you know he's shoving down all his negative thought patterns and just how afraid and anxious he is for the sake of his end goal. We'll see Miles' will to never dwell on things go from being his best quality to his worst obstacle simply because he learns these life lessons a little too well for his own good. He's gonna just keep going until he flies too close to the sun and shrivels up and burns. And all his pent up anxiety is gonna come out eventually for sure, but I think in a very ugly way.

Like I want his PTSD to really affect things. For his anxiety to affect the progress of the mission and slow the team down sometimes or give the spider society the upper hand while they're hunting them down across dimensions (that seems to be the direction they're going in since Miguel's final line in ATSV is a command to send every spider out to hunt for Miles). Like if they actually come face to face with society members and have to fight, Miles will freeze up in terror and he'll have to be rescued or the enemies end up succeeding in causing problems because Miles couldn't stop them.

Or better yet, and here's the real cherry on top: what if his anxiety causes his powers to malfunction. Like they still work, but he completely loses control over them when he's experiencing these moments of intense panic. He's so scared that he's flickering in and out of invisibility and instead of venom striking on command, he's having these infrequent yet uncontrollable electric outbursts that vary in intensity, like he's having bioelectrical spasms fueled by the panic, and he can't even concentrate enough to direct the venom strikes at anyone in particular. So now like he's essentially defenseless against the Society and it'll be another big factor in him learning to trust Gwen and the Spider-Band again, because he'll have no choice but to rely on them for his survival.

#atsv #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #miles morales #gwiles #spider verse #ghostflower #atsv miles #spiderverse miles #brushneb says stuff #forgot to add that Tag dang it #gotta get used to that

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noideasforausername · 4 days

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two flowers.

description: the Evans' sisters relationship viewed through Petunia's lens. canon compliant for the most part.

word count: 1.2k

warnings: angst, angst and more angst. also not super proofread, I wrote this spontaneously on a random afternoon.

───────────

When Petunia was born, her mother pointed out her pink cheeks, deciding to name her after the pretty petunia bush that had been growing in their back garden. She was showered with love and adoration by her parents, both completely enamored by her every move.

Just before her second birthday, her mother’s attention seemed to shift towards her belly. Petunia started noticing the small but substantial lack of displays of affection she would normally receive; so, she cried a bit harder and yelled a bit louder.

On the 30th of January 1960, Petunia woke up in an unknown bed. She shivered, gripped the covers tighter and brought them up to her face - just like the princesses in her fairytale books would do. Her parents had left her with their next-door neighbour: Miss Gertrude. Miss Gertrude smelled like an old lady and kept an absurd number of cat pictures on display in every room. Miss Gertrude did not pay attention to her at all. Nor did she take notice of how hard she cried, or how loud she yelled.

They nicknamed her Lilybud, because she was as innocent and pure as the flower her mother had planted right next to the petunia bush in their garden. Lily was born with bright green eyes and a fiery tuft of red hair – their mother’s hair. Lily did not need to cry or yell, because anyone who met her would become instantly enraptured by her striking features: her round, angelic face, adorned with carefully placed freckles. Where Lily was soft, Petunia was sharp.

Their mother would insist she didn’t have a favorite. Petunia couldn’t help but notice how during family dinners, everyone’s eyes seemed glued to Lily, how hard they’d laugh at Lily’s jokes, or how their eyes glossed over when they looked at her – like she was occupying the time they could’ve spent looking at Lily.

When she was nine, Petunia stole her mother’s eyeliner and climbed into the sink to better look in the mirror. She tried to draw freckles on her face. Her father caught her and laughed. The freckles morphed into black tearstains on her small face.

On her thirteenth birthday, Petunia had been called plain. She entered her school’s building with a smile on her face, wearing her best dress; she exited in tears, with Lily close behind her. That night she cried in Lily’s lap.

On Lily’s following birthday – her eleventh birthday – their mother had insisted that her daughter stay home from school, because she deserved it. Petunia sat in her favorite armchair, the one in the corner of the living room, with a crooked party hat on her head. She was eating a ridiculously large slice of cake in silence when an unexpected knock sounded on the door. By the end of the night, miss Gertrude had called the police to complain about the noise coming from the Evans’ household.

On the 1st of September 1971, Petunia watched her parents cry harder than ever before as her sister boarded the Hogwarts Express.

Every summer since that day everybody witnessed Lilybud grow into a perfectly delicate Lily flower – similar to the one that had started overshadowing the withering petunia bush in the Evans’ garden.

Lily was magical. Lily was special. Petunia was not.

During her final year of high school, Petunia’s parents asked her to pick Lily up from the train station. Petunia arrived half an hour earlier. She spotted the familiar platform and stopped in her tracks. She flung herself into the nearest bathroom and cried for twenty-five minutes, before finally drying her eyes and stepping through the invisible platform to welcome her sister.

“Pet!” Lily would yell when she saw her. Petunia wondered whether her sweet tone of voice was the only thing counteracting the venom of the word.

Later that year, she met Vernon.

Vernon who made her feel special from their very first meeting. Not because he’d done anything particularly extraordinary, but because he looked her way... and saw her - not Lily’s sister, just her.

Vernon was a simple man. He was direct, and wanted a typical, ordinary life.

Petunia was standing in their shared apartment when an owl flew through the open window and landed next to her. Reluctantly opening Lily’s letter, she was met by a moving picture of her and her friends - a ‘missing you’ sloppily written on the back. When Vernon glanced at the picture, he’d disdainfully rolled his eyes. Petunia knew he was the one then.

When Petunia told her parents she was pregnant, they’d toasted the occasion, and she basked in their proud glares. That lasted about a month, until Lily sent word of her own pregnancy – for which their parents threw a big neighborhood party.

When Dudley was born, Petunia gained a new purpose. She’d allowed Vernon to name him after his own grandfather, overlooking something so insignificant as the name of her child. Because he was her child. And she’d make sure he felt as special as he deserved to. Despite not being extraordinary.

When Vernon had broached the subject of having another child, Petunia stopped talking to him for a week. She’d told him she’d rather have her tubes tied than risk the possibility of Dudley getting a sibling, and the subject was dropped.

On Halloween Eve 1981, Petunia almost stepped on a child. She read the letter in its grip and leaned against the doorframe, not trusting her feet for support.

Minutes later, after briefly informing a red-faced Vernon of this new household addition, she locked herself in her room, desperately digging through her closet.

When the hard oak of the box grazed her fingertips, she pulled it out and struggled with the rusty lock. She crumbled to the ground and lay there silently sobbing, surrounded by the few objects Lily had magicked for her over the years – most of them lying there, now unmoving.

After Lily’s funeral, Petunia went into the backyard of her childhood home, and kneeled next to the petunia bush that had withered due to a lack of sun and water. She unearthed the still-intact lily flower and travelled with it in her hands through the long bus commute. It was the first time she hadn’t minded people’s stares.

The flower still grows, to this day, at the base of Lily’s grave.

Harry Potter grew up wondering why Petunia rarely looked him in the eye. Her eyes always seemed to fixate on his admittedly messy hair, just above his brows, often followed by a comment on how he ought to cut it.

He’d once asked her why she kept looking over the fence at the neighboring houses and was met with a stern scoff. Harry had gone on to assume she was on the hunt for gossip. The truth was, she wanted to make sure the neighbors were keeping things orderly, or else she’d be ready to call the cops and complain of the excessive noise.

When she last saw Harry, Petunia was standing in her empty living room. His footsteps echoed down the bare hallway and stopped right in front of her.

Petunia finally looked at him.

And after almost twenty years, she locked eyes with Lily.

At long last, instead of the usual wave of envy, she felt a surge of pride overwhelm her.

Harry had done what she couldn’t - he’d become extraordinary, despite being constantly outshined in their household.

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preciouslandmermaid · 4 months

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🕸🕷 my heart is a hornet's nest 🕸🕷

Pairing: Insomniac Peter Parker/Spider-Man x Fem!Reader (code name: “Huntress” + she is Kraven’s daughter)

Rating: T

Summary: It's been thirteen months since Kraven was killed by Venom. Despite everything, you're still in the city and helping a nerd - named Peter - in his garage try and save the world. It's hard to ascertain where your old life as a hunter ends and your new life begins. Somedays you can't even tell if you're moving forward or not. But, the pull you feel towards Peter is magnetic. And it's bound to end in catastrophe if you pursue him.

Even as part-time Spider-Man, Peter knows his relationships with others puts them at risk. He doesn’t want to throw you back into the carnage, into the fray, to the wolves you claim to be so comfortable around. He can't risk it. He can't risk you. And the long nights in his garage are really, really starting to wear at him.

Prompt: "Are you afraid of me?" / "Do I look afraid?"

tags: enemies to Lovers/enemies to friends to lovers, no use of y/n, secret identity, unresolved romantic tension, first kiss, light angst, slow burn, mutual pining !!

🕷🕷 ( read on ao3 ) 🕷🕷

Kraven snaps your name like a whip.

“You’ll oversee this one, huntress.” he says without looking away from the screen.

A mixture of pride and trepidation curdles beneath your skin. Kraven is trusting you, but he trusts plenty of his hunters. You lick your lips. The transfer of Martin Li. You promise Kraven that you’ll put the team together and leave before the hour.

No one questions Kraven’s decision. You don’t get special treatment purely because you’re his blood. In fact, if you look closely (which you won’t), you’d say that Kraven treats you worse than his other hunters. He expects—he demands – more of you.

There will be a target on your back when Kraven completes his hunt and finds a worthy enough predator to kill him. But that’s nothing new. You’ve had a target on your back since you were young enough to understand the way of the world; predator and prey, hunter and hunted, kill or be killed.

You lift your arm-- THUNK!—the throwing knife hits its bullseye.

“Huntress,” a hunter named Erik approached you, “you want five VTOLs?”

THUNK! This one is a little off-center and you blame Erik for distracting you. You exhale, balancing your weight, and lining up your shot. Erik is bold. Kraven named you the leader of Li’s abduction. He shouldn’t be asking questions. Your eyes narrow.

You pivot on your heel, fast as a viper’s strike, and flashing silver spins through the air. It’s beautiful.

Erik makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat.

Your throwing knife wobbles from where its pinned Erik’s hood to the wall. His eyes flick to the blade. He’s lucky you didn’t miss. Otherwise the blade would’ve sank into his throat or he would lack an ear for the mission ahead.

“That’s what I said,” you yank the knife from the wood, freeing him, “wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Erik says, voice tight and clipped, and his eyes darken. You know he is loyal to Kraven, not you. If he managed to kill you – Kraven would be disappointed, but he wouldn’t mourn you. Nature is cruel and so is your father. You sheath your throwing knives while keeping one eye on the hunter.

Erik hasn’t left which means he could be planning his next move. You tense and wait for the inevitable blow. Come on, you think, try it. You’d be happy to fight off your frazzled, nervous energy. You should probably conserve your strength in case things with Martin Li go bad.

Erik nods, “huntress,” and leaves.

You roll your shoulders and return to the weapons cache. I’ll bring Martin Li to Kraven and he’ll have his wonderful fight. He’ll achieve his dream.

Nothing will go wrong. Nothing could. You’ve been planning this for months.

******

Peter wobbles to his feet, his head ringing. Whoever these guys are—they’re serious. The tech they’re using is insane. Invisible drones. Laser swords. What’s next? A few giant mecha-robots intent on crushing Harlem? He shouldn’t think about it – he doesn’t want to jinx it.

He stares into the face of the capable, dangerous stranger with smoke burning his nostrils and scalding his throat.

Dark soot clings to your clothes, your expression venomous and focused, furrowed and tight. The light frames you, bouncing off the east river in sparks, and refracting over the small throwing knives clutched between your knuckles. She’s fast, like really fast. Fast enough that he’s concerned you have a spider-sense of your own. Who the hell are these guys? Miles kicks a drone in mid-air and metal-on-metal crunches together like a compacted soda can.

Peter jumps before the blade can slice through him. It whistles through the air, hits and – literally bounces! -- off a metal pole. His lenses widen. He twists his body. His nerves ignite with impending danger, but he’s in the already dodging the first blade.

He’s Spider-Man.

He can’t stop physics.

Your second blade cuts through the air and burns when it cuts his shoulder. He lands on his feet, a sharp inhale drawn through his teeth, and resists the urge to check the injury. She can’t have that many knives on her!

Your lips quirk, “are you afraid of me?”

“Do I look afraid?”

“Hard to say,” you make a gesture around your face, “with the mask and all.”

“Where’s yours?” he propels through the air with his webs slung behind him, “I thought--” you deflect his punch, “most bad guys—” you stumble backward when he kicks your chest, but recover quickly, “want to keep their identities a secret.”

“I have no shame in who I am,” your leg swings over his head.

“So uhhh...who are you?” he quips. His palms land flat on the cold, metal surface and his spine curves, his body moving like a question mark, and avoiding the onslaught of your assault.

“Serious question!” he says a little louder this time while your silver knife dances through the light as it carves his webs into flimsy pieces.

A burst of green flares flash against the gray smoke. His heart flips. The raft jolts to the side. They’re going to drag the ship underwater! The heavy-duty spears punch through the metal as if it was made of tissue paper.

“We gotta get this ship free!”

Peter spares a final glance over his shoulder and you leap from the other side. Are you landing on another boat? A life raft? Are you going to swim away? He has no clue. He can’t spare any further brain cells on it though. He slides down the tilted raft toward the giant spears that function like fish-hooks into the industrial, military transport raft.

***

It’s been approximately thirteen months since Kraven met his end.

You’ve found that keeping count provides some strange, twisted comfort. You wake up, check your calendar, and strike another tally mark into the wall. It feels good to carve the line into the sheet-rock, little flecks of white catching on your thumb and falling like cremated remains onto the hardwood floor and clinging to your socks.

Sometimes you run into old hunters, vying for territory, and hoping to claim some scraps that Kraven left behind. Many, however, fled to Kraven’s homeland to play out the tragedy of a power vacuum and continue Kraven’s legacy.

None of them have impressed you. Not the ones that have sought you out, hoping to kill Kraven’s kin, and earn glory. And definitely not the ones who you’ve run into accidentally. Those are the worst. They’re cowards. They’re mice. You stumble upon them, trying to eat the crumbs off Kraven’s table, and your retribution is swift and bloody and a pain in the ass to clean up.

You wonder what Peter Parker would say if he knew. You pull your sweater over your head. Peter, the nerd running a research foundation out of his garage, happens to be your only...well, friend is the wrong word...but he’s your only something in this city.

You aren’t supposed to have ‘somethings’. Attachments, as Kraven would call them. Attachments made you weak. You thought it was hypocritical for your father preach this advice when he had a wife and multiple children. Not anymore though, you finish lacing up your boots, everyone’s dead now except for me.

The cassette clicks with a satisfying ‘CLUNK’ into the player and you slide your headphones over your ears. The player was a gift from Peter. No. Gift is the wrong word. It’s on a loan.

“What’s this?” You cradled the cassette player, “it looks ancient.” You twisted the sharp-grooved circles. They remind you of strange teeth. You click the play and pause button. It’s clunky. It’s right-angles and lackluster chrome and the buttons make noise.

It’s the antithesis of the technology you grew up with around Kraven.

You love it.

Peter rolls his chair over to you, “it’s not ancient. Maybe vintage. God, do we call it vintage?” he sounds so baffled that you almost smile, “you know, record players and vinyl are making a big comeback so it’s only a matter of time before Walkman do too.”

He doesn’t wait for you to respond, “do you want it?”

“Huh?”

“I’m not using it obviously.” He smiles, “I think I have a few cassettes lying around and there’s no shortage of music shops in Brooklyn.”

Your fingers tighten around the device. The wild part of you, the part that Kraven nurtured through violence and toxic loyalty, wants to throw the device on the ground. See how sturdy it is and compare it to the tactical, military-grade equipment you grew up with. How many pieces will it break into? A dozen?

You gaze into Peter’s earnest face. His eyes are warm, light mahogany. There are soft lines that kiss the corners of his eyes. You think when he is old, he will have many wrinkles around his eyes, and it takes a second longer than normal for your lungs to refill.

“I’ll borrow it,” you say, unable to accept his random kindness, “and return it before our work is done.”

“Great!” Peter coughs, rubbing the back of his neck, “I mean, that sounds good.”

The cassette clicks, whirring warm in your palm, and switching the song. The subway rushes past in a gust of tepid, moist air that smells both stale and greasy. You scan the crowd. The citizens range from individuals wearing jean jackets with sewn patches, to baggy street wear, to plastic bags on shoes, to gym athletics and smart watches.

Someone gets on the train wearing a camouflage parka. Your spine stiffens. Your fingers twitch to the weapons hidden inside your coat. Do I know your face? You shift your body and peer at the subway windows, allowing the ghostly transparent reflection to reveal the stranger’s face.

As you wait for the right angle, the right lighting, you consider your options. Tail them out of the train—could be a trap, but their numbers are never that high. Get close, press the blade to the artery in their thigh, let them see your face before you sink the blade in and leave on the next stop. The timing would be tricky, but not impossible. Not for you. Bail on Pete and spend the next several days tracking the stranger until you’ve found and confirmed their hideout. An ambush. Quick and silent.

The stranger coughs into their sleeve and your fingers fall away from your knife.

You’re glad Pete isn’t here. You’ve never traveled together and you likely never will. It’s safer that way. It keeps him out of your personal life.

“That’s the problem with attachments,” you mumble to yourself, “you start wondering what they might say if they knew you.”

*****

Pete rubs his eyes with his fists, “do you hear birds or is that just in my head?”

You don’t lift your head from the microscope, “it’s birds.”

He yawns. There have been plenty of late nights in his garage shared with you, but this one feels different.

Maybe it’s because of the mercurial light flickering along the planes of your face.

Maybe it’s the notes by your hands, the edges of your fingers smeared black from ink.

Maybe it’s the unplugged headphone wire dangling from your throat and brushing ever-so-often against your exposed collarbones.

Shit. He blinks, looking away. He can’t get mixed up. He’s grateful to you. You donated the notes first, but then pieces of Kraven’s equipment, and then...you came around more and more. You wanted to see what he was doing, wanted to see his progress, or ‘see how helpful your notes are.’ He likes it. He likes having you around.

But, even as part-time Spider-Man, Peter knows his relationships with others puts them at risk. He doesn’t want to risk you too. And it’s not because you can’t fight. To him, you’re finding your place outside of Kraven’s shadow and he doesn’t want to mess that up. He doesn’t want to throw you back into the carnage, into the fray, to the wolves you claim to be so comfortable around.

The sequences before him blur into gibberish. He peeks up through his hair back to you.

Your name is the first word out of his mouth, followed shortly by “you’re bleeding!”

“I tried to catch the sample,” your voice is laced with frustration, “I can’t believe I dropped it.”

“It’s fine,” he opens the first-aid kit that’s stowed beneath the desk, “let me see.”

***

You blink at Peter. Earnest, helpful, kind Peter. You cradle your hand to your chest. It stings, but you’ve faced hornets stronger than this. The tiny shards of glass bounce colorful reflections from the holiday lights strung around Peter’s garage. The wild voice tells you to dig the shards out with your nails.

The blood is starting to stain the hem of your sweater.

Peter doesn’t blink. He doesn’t flinch away. His offered hand holding the gauze doesn’t shake.

You swallow. Why isn’t he shying away from the woman made of shrapnel? Doesn’t he know you’re lethal?

“What?” his eyebrows lift, “are you afraid of me? Or is it medical care in general?” soft humor folds into his brown eyes, “I promise my co-pays are reasonable.”

His words shatter the stiffness of your muscles.

You say, “do I look afraid?” you extend your bloody hand to him.

His fingers curl lightly and gently around your wrist. He flushes the wounds with water before plucking the glass out with a pair of tweezers. His brow furrows in concentration. Your neck prickles and a tingling sensation travels down your spine.

You’ve seen his furrowed brow a hundred times. However, you’ve never experienced it as the subject. Peter holds an antiseptic wipe between his long fingers. His touch is unbearably gentle and you wish you had something to compare it to.

“This might hurt a bit,” the soft, low rumble of his voice is strangely intimate.

The words fall out of your mouth, “I’m used to it.”

“Are we going to unpack that?” He slides the wipe across your angry, throbbing skin.

“No,” your lips twitch, “unless you have a psychology degree I’m unaware of.”

You’re fascinated by the way his fingers move along yours, light and precise, carefully wiping away the blood and wrapping your hand in gauze.

He says, “maybe it’s time for a career change.”

You smile. “What career?”

Peter chuckles, “okay, I walked into that one.”

His eyes lift to yours and his jaw slackens, like he’s finally caught the creature stalking him in the woods, and his fingers twitch on your wrist. The charged moment hangs undisturbed in the air, sending signals through the ether and rearranging the flow of blood in your veins.

His cheeks flush rosy and sweet. The pink hue reminds you of that pivotal morning a few months ago when Spider-Man gave you a sunrise and Pete’s number and a hope for a different future. Your fingers curl into his. And the carefully wrapped gauze prevents you from feeling the warmth of his palm. The wild voice tells you to rip the bandages off and run home. Your knees bump into his.

There’s always so little distance between you.

It’s a small garage, after all.

You tilt forward and hear Pete’s sharp inhale. There isn’t a moment of hesitation. Not for you. You know when to strike, when to move, and when to hide. It’s been drilled into you since birth. Hesitation is a lack of courage, in confidence, and you’ve never lacked either of those.

Peter’s mouth collides with yours.

Your ever-present and paranoid guard slips and you close your eyes to savor it—savor him.

The pliant softness of his lips melds into yours and your exhale shudders between your lips. His hand slides from your throat and holds your cheek, his thumb pressed into your cheekbone, and your hip bumps into the side of his workbench when you stand.

Peter remains on the stool, his neck arched, and his lithe legs part for you to enter the space between them. The thrill illuminates your chest like a red flare against a black sky. His lips play against yours, eager and a little clumsy, and you clutch the front of his wrinkled cotton shirt.

He mumbles your name.

“Shh,” you nose skims along his, recapturing his lips, because you think words might ruin it. The hanging lights flash their merry little dance. There’s fragments of glass under your boots. Ink stains your fingers, blood stains your sweater, and Peter’s tongue stains your lips.

You’ve experienced blood lust. You’ve felt it pounding through your ears and sharpening your focus into razor-thin virulence. You’re familiar with the excitement of a good hunt, a worthy opponent, a well-matched fight. Spider-Man, you think, I’ve felt this with him. But those were mixed with violence, and blood, and bruises.

This – this moment with Peter – is wholly different. Your heart pumps the same blood, pushing it through arteries and valves, but your hands move to caress, to clutch, and stroke through the fine strands of his hair. Your lungs tremble, not in pain, but in elation. The passion rolls through you in waves of syrup and brushes your skin like branches of fir.

Peter’s phone buzzes – loud and incessant – and he groans before tearing his mouth from yours. His cheeks are ruddy, eyes bright, and his chest heaves with hungry gulps of air. You’re glad to know you aren’t the only one affected by the strong pull of – whatever this is – between you.

“Sorry, I’ve gotta--” he lifts the phone from the table, “hello?”

You watch Peter’s face while he talks on the phone. He’s too expressive. He’d make a terrible hunter. And probably a bad poker player, too. You want to kiss him again just for the hell of it. And feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath your palms, feel his breath mingling with yours, his tongue and the blunt force of his teeth.

“I have to go out, um, do you want to come with?” he tilts his chin toward the garage door, “we could – uh – get something to eat along the way?”

You hands twitch at your sides. Your coat, draped on the desk chair, is laden with hidden pockets for knives and darts and small vials of poison. An arsenal for protection, an arsenal for vengeance, the truth of your soul. A soul that Peter cannot – should not – bear witness to.

“Can’t.”

His expression deflates, but he recovers with an easy-going smile.

He shakes his head, “that’s cool,” and says, “another time then.”

You make a noncommittal sound.

***

You finish setting up the tripwire at your apartment door and wipe your palms on your sweatpants. The windowpanes glisten with raindrops, painting the empty corners dark blue, and blurring the myriad of ever-changing traffic lights.

You scratch beneath your ear, upsetting your headphones, and flop onto the couch. The cassette whirs like a little hamster running through its wheel as the song fills your head and blocks out the honking below. You’ve grown to like the city of noise, the city that never sleeps. It’s a concrete jungle. A unique hunting ground.

Tap, tap, tap --

You jerk upright and your head whirls to the noise. Spider-Man perches on the ledge of your window, his red and blue suit shiny and dripping. You cautiously close the distance and begin to disarm the trap before unlatching it. It creaks noisily as it slides open and old paint chips cling to the windowsill.

The cool wet air is tinged with the scent of exhaust fumes.

“Weird time to visit,” you say.

“I was in the neighborhood.” He slips through the window like a salmon and lands soundlessly on the hardwood floor.

You’re going to have to move. You don’t want Spider-Man keeping tabs on you.

“But this isn’t a social call,” he continues, “I need your help with something.”

You lift one eyebrow, “I’m not a mercenary,” then you add, “and even if I was, I doubt you could afford me.”

Spider-Man laughs. “It’s nothing like that!”

You fold your arms across your chest. Spider-Man gives you the vague details of a criminal that he’s had trouble tracking down, could use your expertise, and fighting skills, and so and so forth. It’s a good pitch, you’ll give him partial credit for effort, but you’re not interested in becoming a vigilante – or a hero.

“So, what do you say? We’ve teamed up before.”

Against the symbiote. But, your motivations were selfish. You weren’t helping Spider-Man or trying to save the city. You were weakening Venom.

“No thanks.”

“What?” His lenses widen, “seriously? After my whole speech and everything?”

“Try a power point next time.” You shrug, “I’m retired. No more fighting for me.”

Spider-Man glances around your apartment and there’s evidence of your hypocrisy across every surface. A case of black, tactical arrowheads sits on your coffee table. There’s several target posters hanging on the wall across from your couch with pockmarks embedded into the paper. There’s unfinished gadgets and an open toolbox on the floor near the kitchen where you like to eat breakfast and tinker.

“You’re a bad liar,” there’s a smile in his voice, “just this once, huntress, that’s all. For old times sake.”

You muster the energy to glare at him, but it lacks true heat. “You mean the old times when I was actively trying to kill you?”

Spider-Man shrugs languidly, “we all have bad days.”

That wildness, the hunter that lives inside you, under your skin and in the marrow of your bones is grinding its teeth and trashing into your ribs. It’s hard to determine where you begin and the hunter ends or if they’re destined to forever be intertwined.

You’re a wildcat, unable to be truly domesticated and all your attempts have been in vain.

But, then you remember the warmth of Peter’s lips, his gentle hands, and genuine laughter. You tell yourself, there is room for softness inside of me, for even tigers can purr.

You tell Spider-Man to wait while you get dressed.

“One time,” you hold up a finger, “that’s it.”

“One time.” he agrees with a nod.

Together, you rush into the monotone rain-soaked evening for your first hunt since Kraven’s death.

#spider man x reader #spider-man x reader #reader insert #insomniac spider man #insomniac peter parker #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker fanfiction #enemies to lovers #insomniac spider man x reader #insomniac peter parker x reader #no use of YN #marvel reader insert

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tapakah0 · 6 months

Note

There are beautiful roses...

"Oh, Count! What a wonderful coincidence to meet you here! Do you care for a walk through the splendid palace gardens this evening?"

Roses that shine with deepest reds and loveliest blushes, nestling against the skin.

"Oh you flatter me tonight~ You are looking quite handsome in the moonlight as well."

Roses that smell as divine as the ichor of the gods, running golden through their goblets.

"Oh but dearest Count, you do not know who I am yet you accepted my invitation? That is quite blasphemous, dont you think?"

Roses that have thorns, as sharp as knives and daggers, hidden in plain sight yet invisible to the naked eye.

"Oh, but dear Count we are not finished with our walk yet~"

And sometimes the roses are accompanied by venomous beings, waiting for their time to strike.

Brainrotting so hard rn

OOOOH

#royal au #hoddi #cass #MmmMMmm #yes it is about them

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lovialy · 9 months

Text

tolerate it - lee heeseung

"while you were out building other worlds, where was i?"

summary: reader loves heeseung too much to let him go. inspired by 'tolerate it' by taylor swift pairing: heeseung x reader genre: angst but if you look reeeal close theres some fluff :( warnings: sad taylor swift hours, falling out of love wc: 660 a/n: i just really wanted to write smth evermore inspired like, sooooo badly!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You knew that your relationship was becoming a taut thread being pulled to its limits, where eventually, it was bound to reach the point in which it would give its final breath, snap, then fall forgotten to the floor. Perhaps that was why it was so alluring. Why every moment was precious and each fleeting touch contained more emotion than the last. The thrill of the chase led to the possibility of losing everything, led to the rushes of adrenaline in the late drives around the city exchanging whispers and hushed secrets. His gaze then was often enough to make you fold ten times over, his sweet doe eyes in the night were telling of how much he had once cared.

You knew that falling apart like this was never in his intentions and that it was certainly not his fault. You signed an invisible waiver when you agreed to call him yours, knowing fully well what came with the contract. You understood the risks of being with someone like Heeseung, your sympathetic nature being one of the reasons he fell in love in the first place. But his life was so unlike to yours and your striking differences would take their toll in due time. You just never expected it to happen so suddenly.

You think you’re going crazy for noticing every little detail about his actions. The way his hand doesn’t makes contact with your waist as he reaches above the counter to retrieve the object out of your reach. The way the number of times he pulls out the chair for you to sit at the table dwindles slowly. The way his eyes don’t meet yours and his lips don’t offer a kind smile when you watch him turn the pages of his book. You’re desperate for someone to shake you and tell you that you’re just overanalysing, but you conclude he’s stressed with his schedules and so you retreat to the sidelines.

His words, lately minimal and rare, bite like the sharp fangs of a snake and induce a venom called doubt. It takes all your strength to pass these remarks off as stray outbursts of pent up stress, turning a blind eye to the passive tones laced within his once soothing voice. A long, long time ago was it a voice that lulled you to sleep like the waves lapping on the beach of your first date, yet now they more reminded you of metre high waves that engulf you in nightmares which you can never shake off.

His trips to your apartment grow fewer and calls don’t even seem to meet his phone. You’re left missing the days where you fall asleep on the couch waiting for him to come home and the ventures to convenience stores whilst the rest of the city is asleep. Half of the time you find yourself waiting at the front door of his dorms only to find out from his friends that he’s not even home.

Lately you smile more, sit up straighter, and listen to his words as if he was a religion, and you were the last worshipper. You don’t know why you still bother putting in this much effort into caring for Heeseung. You think it’s because you’d love him no matter what he did to you, and yet still you’re painfully aware that everything is going to shit. He wordlessly accepts your grandeur gestures like you’re just a stranger to him. This is what hurts you the most: his lack of effort to sever you cleanly from his life. Instead, the colours of your world dim as Heeseung plunges the knife into your heart, refusing to let go of the handle.

Perhaps one day something inside you will shift and you will be able to run away, leaving nothing but ruination in the path behind you. But tonight, you sit silently on the corner of the bed, watching as Heeseung brushes right past you.

---

a/n again: AHH first fic on here and it was just to get all my thoughts out bc i was dying to write to write to this song. some lines impretty proud of but i felt like i could have captured the song sm better ):<

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dioptre-hertz · 3 months

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presenting to you my Hideo Kojima vs Hirohiko Araki horseshoe theory.

these two guys are completely divergent in terms of how they approach politics and philosophy, but converge in that they both have a deeply honest, charmingly self-indulgent willingness to just create whatever seems Badass to them in a very teenage boy sort of way.

both of them will, with complete sincerity and not a hint of irony or doubt, present you with some absolutely batshit insane character design that a less confident writer would worry is "cringe". kojima will give you a character who wears the V for vendetta mask, takes it off and has Joker makeup underneath, and then starts blasting robots with lightning bolts from his electric guitar. araki will give you a guy named Vanilla Ice whose special power is that he can swallow his own entire body to become invisible. kojima will tell you that the guy who drinks blood and can walk on water, hypnotize people and survive being shot repeatedly is called Vamp not on account of his apparent vampirism, but because he's bisexual. araki will have his protagonist save the day by transforming a brick into a venomous snake that lived its whole life inside a poison cloud and thus contains a virus vaccine.

but kojima's work is deeply, profoundly political in intent. he has a Grand Theory of Everything and is so eager to tell you about war, society, life and death that he is almost incoherently earnest. araki, on the other hand, thinks about politics so little that he has barely stopped to ask himself what a "nazi" even is.

kojima has witnessed the grand truths of the universe, and needs to share them with you. araki has witnessed haute couture fashion magazines. but their shared sincerity and utter willingness to write outrageous things, simply because it strikes them as cool, somehow brings them close together.

#kojima #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure

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mayhemscorner · 11 months

Text

Sage

Itachi x f!reader

Summary: a sage master is rare. Even more rare, is a master of sage mode at such a young age. It was almost unheard of. So how was she capable to use it so effortlessly. (This is sad. I wrote this to help cope with loss recently. To heal, we must first feel pain.)

The flowers were blooming. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel them over my shoulder as my meditation deepens. I could feel the pulse of the leaves slowly unfolding, invisible to the naked eye. The forest was serene and moving, the grass even swayed lazily against the dull breeze. Complete concentration.

The white snake flashes across my vision, striking at my arm venomously. My eyes flash open, revealing a starkly different snake before me. My personal summon, Obake stares intently with his bright orange slitted eyes and flicks his tongue against the mossy green hue of his skin in wonder,” tell me about your time with the white snake.”

“I’m trying to concentrate, sage mode is kind of a tricky thing for us humans, y’know?” I mutter out, breaking focus and all natural energy becomes void.

“Listen, I’m still young compared to the others at Ryuchi cave. You’re my first ever contract, and I’m curious.” He slithers out, almost showing human emotions on his scaly face. When I was young, I never figured I’d be talking to a snake like I would a friend. I never figured I’d get bitten and learn the tedious path of learning sage mode, let alone I didn’t even know what it was.

“I was ten. I was on a mission as a Genin and lost my team. The white snake found me and offered to test my strength. If her venom killed me or weakened me, i’d be her next meal. If I survived, she would teach me the way of being an unstoppable kunoichi. That’s about it. The rest was up to me. I returned to my village two years later after being presumed dead, and now here we are, many years later.” I huff out, returning to a state of complete stillness, once again quickly interrupted,” so you have special powers because you didn’t die?”

I nod, feeling as the chakra flows to my face and Obake slithering closer,” why does the area around your eyes turn green when you become silent? That’s never happened before.”

“I’m not sure. I can’t say I notice things about my face without a mirror, Obake.” I state blankly, feeling an unsettling chakra move within our area.

“Someone powerful is near. Should we hide?” Obake whimpers out, becoming more puppy like than snake like.

“Obake, aren’t snakes supposed to be villainous and intimidating?” I laugh out, standing to climb around his neck and settle on his large head.

“Manda maybe. That Orochimaru guy and him gave us a bad name. Nobody in the cave really accepts either of them, they have too though. But they live in fear of them.” He slips out, stretching his head above the tree canopy to get a better view. A nature walk just outside the village always turns to trouble, but I choose to ease his worried mind,” Obake, Manda may be the boss, but neither of us have seen him in a while. You’re still growing and look how big you already are. Manda will be nothing but an easy obstacle for us in a few years time, if he hasn’t already met his match.”

The air whips my hair around, obstructing my view for only mere seconds. Apparently it was enough time for a black and red cloak to meld against the tree line and become dangerously close to us. I stand wobbly against Obake’s head and watch the erratic pattern they create.

“Should we get ready for conflict?” He asks. I sit down, conjuring a clone to gather chakra and energy in preparation,” I wouldn’t get too ahead of ourselves yet. It’s Akatsuki, but they may just be passing through. I highly doubt they want anything to do with us… but I am curious.”

I can’t help but to cup my hands around my mouth and shout down,” hey, just letting you know you’re trespassing.”

The figure stops in a tree adjacent to our view, looking up and down before sighing,” I assumed you were someone else, my apologies.”

“If you’re looking for that Orochimaru guy, I’d advise against it.” I laugh back, sitting down next to my comatose clone as the man comes even closer. He lands gently against Obake’s head, leaning down to let his dark eyes meet mine,”My brother. I’m looking for my brother. He’s younger than you, but I’ve heard he’s signed a contract much like yours.”

“I haven’t been to the cave in years. I honestly can’t be much help unfortunately. What’s his name? Obake can always ask around, can’t you?” I question, leaning down to meet one of Obake’s eyes.

“S-sure.” He stutters out, flicking his tail in nervousness. Obake was usually on high alert, but the man in front of us must be powerful to make a giant snake with deadly fangs question his own abilities.

“Sasuke. I must find him soon as my time here is short.” The man replies, coughing gently and leaning forward in exhaustion. I pull him down to sit next to me and raise an eyebrow,” by a short time, you just mean in this area right?”

“Unfortunately, no. Every power must come with a curse. I’m sure you understand. This contract of yours must have some downsides, am I correct?” He asks back. My body stills, thinking of the possibility of turning to stone. Or even the possibility of being stuck in a snake like form forever. I lean back, resting my head against my outstretched arms to look up at the sky,” turning to stone isn’t really an upside. Neither is becoming a snake… no offense Obake. What’s your name anyways?”

“It seems you’ve accepted fate pretty quickly. It’s nice to converse with someone in neutral territory instead of fighting for once. Itachi.” He groans out, leaning down lower and outstretching his hand. I take it begrudgingly, taking in his pale skin, and the smallest drop of blood tinting the side of his lip. His name was highlighted ten times over in the bingo book. We could have enough money to retire early and enjoy life, but seeing his current state, maybe it’s best he live the rest of his days in peace.

“I’m Y/N, this is Obake. The big question is, why are you trusting a stranger that could easily turn you in with your current state, Itachi?” I question, turning to him, seeing he too was watching the clouds,” trust is something you learn to look out for. And a fight with someone your level wouldn’t be worth fighting.”

“Someone my level? I’m not a god.” I chuckle, seeing his head tilt in amusement.

“Do you not realize sage mode is a powerful and dangerous thing to other shinobi? You’ve surely heard of the legendary Sannin of the leaf and their capabilities. You’ve obviously heard of Orochimaru at the least.” He utters out, almost baffled.

“Yeah, but gods are only immortal until they are overpowered. It only takes one wrong move to prove it’s been luck the whole time.” I huff. He tightens his lips in thought,” perfecting sage mode is not mere luck. It’s discipline and hard work. A sage is deserving of the title they’re given. The fact you’ve held a clone this long gathering chakra in fear of conflict, without even breaking a sweat or losing breath, proves the immense chakra you hold. A god is considered a god because of the immense power they were gifted.”

“Like I said, it’s all dumb luck. Not everyone can say they accidentally stumbled in to a cave, received a contract, and stuck with the whole insane idea of it. Let alone be born with enough chakra to power a whole village. It’s almost the same probability of becoming a tailed beast.” I reply blatantly, watching the next question form.

“Do you wish for normalcy? Like the life of a civilian?” Itachi fires back. I think for a moment. It would be an easy and quiet life. Maybe work in a bakery, closing down before evening, coming home every night. It sure would be easy. So easy it would be utterly boring. I shake my head,” no. Maybe be an average shinobi. Receiving simple missions that only last a few days. Escorting visitors of the village, or training academy students. Not dealing with high threat level targets such as the likes of you.”

“You really are quite a complex individual, Y/N. I’m almost appreciative our paths crossed.” He chuckles, finally regaining some strength. Surely it was the natural energy flowing through us from my clone and Obake. It was almost as if we sat atop a giant chakra charging pad. But it was almost time to cut the energy off. I tap his chest with my ring and middle finger just above his heart, something my mother would do when I was younger,” almost is a fine line. I’m sure that comes with the unfortunate curse of not being able to become attached to anyone or anything with your line of work.”

“I wouldn’t really call it work. But you’re right… What are you doing?” Itachi asks, reaching for my hand as I quickly pull it away.

My cheeks flush and I clear my throat, “Force of habit. My mom would do it, saying it connected us during heart to heart conversations like this.”

“I had a similar thing I would do to my brother. It was more so an act of love and adoration. I have weeks left at best, Y/N. Consider it a dying wish… a need, to find my brother.” He sighs, examining my wrist he clutched gently in his two hands, eyes trailing to the scarred over fang punctures. One hand rubs over the two deep divets,” you faced the option of death. I’m guessing at such a young age with these aged scars. I’m sure there was one last thing you wanted to do with the possibility of death looming over you, Y/N.”

“I face the possibility of death every breathing moment of my life. So I do what I want with the exception of assigned missions. Being this powerful, it was thankfully rare until recently. Your organization has been quiet as of recently though… It’s almost concerning. But I at least have a few days to rest with Obake. I do have to say, my last thought before being bit was how good some dango would taste. Then again, I was ten. There wasn’t much I’d experienced at that age to crave something one last time.” I yawn, finally removing my clone before continuing,”If it were now, I would’ve wished to love more, to eat more. Maybe make sure my mother was taken care of. But no one in my life is worth traversing the world in my final days.”

“It’s almost comical. Those of us who have nothing, want nothing but for others to feel loved. Those who have everything only want more. If all you wish for is love, why not seek it?” Itachi yawns contently, eyelashes fluttering slowly against the sunshine before revealing deep crimson eyes.

“I figured you’d be too weak to pull the sharingan on me. But I must say, you had me fooled, Itachi. I take it I’m already under a genjutsu, and you’re moments from killing me.” I sigh defeatedly. He shakes his head with a faint smile,” I am still too weak, Y/N. My sharingan may be strong and feared, but even I know not to start a fight I wouldn’t come close to winning. I am near my limit… I was going to offer a short vision of a life of love, as a thank you for our conversation.”

“It’s not worth your energy to show me something I can find on my own.” I smile back, secretly applying pressure against my palm to make sure he wasn’t lying. In turn, he grabs my hands,” I may be perceived as a merciless killer, but I was never a backstabber. Everything I’ve done has come with reason. It’s up to you to believe me.”

I grip against his hands, finally having the courage to stare intently in to his unblinking eyes,” i apologize if this is too forward. Instead of a vision, would you save your energy and just kiss me instead?”

“You are very forward, I can appreciate that… an odd request, but if that is truly what you wish.” He mumbles out, almost shy.

“I don’t want to be the reason you die before finding your brother. And I believe that even those that are dying… good or bad, deserve one last act of love.” I breathe out, noticing his now very close proximity. He tucks a strand of loose hair behind my ear,” I truly wish I had time to learn more of your wisdom. In another life, I feel we would’ve been great friends, possibly even more. Alas, our paths have crossed at the wrong time. But I suppose a kiss will suffice, though a vision of us together could’ve been interesting for both parties.”

“Don’t tempt me, I’m trying to be nice here so you can have a family reunion before croaking.” I smugly reply, offering a soft clasp against his shoulder. He leans in, bringing the scent of fresh pine and campfire smoke. The true smell of a rugged nomad. A complex one at that. Today revealed he might not be the bad guy I see in the bingo book, but an unfortunate soul possibly forced to do another’s bidding. Cursed to face the effects of using a gift some god bestowed unto his clan. Gifts were starting to seem more and more like curses that have been sugar coated to me. Even Obake and I realize the struggle. Sure we accepted it, but one day we will do something about the corruption in Ryuchi cave. If not for us, for people similar to Itachi… Itachi himself. Even if it kills us.

My eyes dare to close against my will, denying me the satisfaction of letting the view of Itachi’s eyes fluttering closed. His hair frames against my cheeks as his lips brush smoothly against mine, waiting for the perfect moment. They finally connect, sealing our meeting and ingraining it permanently in my memories. The feeling of his lips pressing against mine causes anger to settle inside me. The poor luck of the worst timing. The stupidity of kissing one of the most wanted men in the nation, and liking it. My eyes remain closed and my head down as he pulls away, leaving a kiss against my forehead. I finally force them open, watching as Itachi leans backwards and raises a hand. My own hand raises, finding the area just above his heart. As my ring and middle finger taps against his chest, his middle and index finger make contact against the center of my forehead,” in another life, I will find you again, Y/N. A promise I will cherish this moment in the afterlife until we meet again.”

“Until we meet again, Itachi. I hope you find your brother… and peace. If I find you, I’ll make sure you have a proper burial. Even those who are misunderstood deserve to rest in peace.”

“Follow the crows. They’ll lead you to your desire.” He states, dropping his hand and melding away to black feathers in the wind dropping from flapping wings. Another thing I dreamed of had flown from my grasp in a heartbeat. And with every heart beat, I was one step closer to meeting the mysterious man in another life.

“Obake, why don’t you return home for the day. I think we’ve had enough training and adrenaline for today.” I mutter, laying on my stomach against his head, seeking comfort in the giant snake and the thing I trusted most.

“Y/N, do you think we’ll meet in another life as well?” He asks, dropping his head slowly to the ground. I giggle slightly,” of course, Obake. Now that I got you, I couldn’t live without you. But you will one day have to live without me. My life span is incredibly short compared to yours, but I’ll happily wait for you.”

“We’ll always be heroes, you and me. Unlike that guy, we still have time on our side. Right, Y/N?” He questions again with a concerned tone. I drop down to the ground and turn to place a hand between the slits of his nose, watching his eyes close in content,” always. We’ll start with small changes. But I promise that we will better Ryuchi cave and the shinobi lands soon. For now, we both need rest.”

He finally nods, disappearing with a cloud of smoke and a tired yawn with his tongue flicking high in the air.

It was a few hours until I returned home. The soft glow from the living room window reveals the sleeping figure of my mother, and I couldn’t wait to be in that state myself. My head hits the pillow, and it was the quickest sleep has claimed me since I was born.

Several days later, I find myself strolling the streets and stopping at multiple vendors. I find food for the next few days, preparing for a daunting mission at the end of the week. A flicker of movement to my left sets me on guard. Scanning the building ledges, I find a single black crow staring at me intently with familiar red eyes. My heart sinks, yet I feel at peace knowing Itachi held his promise. It’s wings take off against the wind and I’m quick to follow, beginning to sprint down the street and dropping my bags at the entrance of my house. Until I reach the treeline, I lose the crow several times, waiting for it to loop back around. Several minutes in the forest, I finally stop to summon Obake.

“Y/N! Is there danger? I thought your mission wasn’t until this weekend?” Obake yelps out, quickly dropping his head and letting me climb on.

“Follow the crow, Obake. It’s Itachi.” I pant out, kneeling down and keeping my eye on the bird floating gracefully ahead. Obake is silent for several moments, quickly slithering with precision through the forest,” so he was serious.”

“And so was I.” I choke out as the tears catch up with my thinking, pouring hotly down my cheeks.

We end at a desecrated battle field. Blood was splattered in multiple areas and rubble lay recklessly around. The crow perches against an old and decrepit stone foundation. It lets out a guttural caw before flapping away as I approach it. Itachi’s body lay still and cold, looking as if he were just resting like the other day.

“Obake, let’s take him to the forest. No one deserves to be left in deserted land. He deserves to be surrounded with life.” I mumble out, trying to lift him with a struggle. Obake finally comes close, using his tail to gently wrap around Itachi and setting him gently above his face. We both continue in in silence. My puffy eyes dart to his body every few seconds, hoping to find any sign of life and still knowing it wouldn’t be there. When we reach a clearing surrounded by a perfect circle of trees, I tap my hand against Obake,” What about here?”

“I think it’s perfect.” He replies, once again dropping down and lifting his tail to grab Itachis still form. Before i begin the daunting task, i take a moment to extend my to fingers to drop over his still heart, taking several seconds before pulling away. Digging a hole was hard knowing you would have an even harder time filling it. But it’s exactly what I do, pulling the excess dirt at the end to set a large stone down with Obake’s help. My kunai scratches against it noisily, carving words that hold meaning.

In another life. A trial of time stands between being reunited. A brother, a shinobi, a hero.

Anyone who happens to wander by, didn’t need to know he was ever seen as bad. Everyone deserves to be viewed as a hero, even if it is in death. I finally drive my kunai down in to the very top of the stone and stalk off to pick flowers at the edge of the clearing. When I return, Obake was coiled up and a fang missing from his mouth and now placed below the stone. As I arrange the flowers in a blanket like pattern, I laugh,” why did you suffer the pain of losing a tooth for a man we just met?”

“Same as you suffering the pain of a broken heart for a man we just met. I think we need to feel pain to heal, right? And now, there will always be a piece of us by his side.” Obake chirps out, resting his head against his curled body. I stifle another laugh, knowing the young snake knew very little of human emotion, yet tried so hard to understand.

“It’s a different kind of pain. It’s like the feeling of being drained after a hard fight knowing you still have to somehow make it home.” I explain, standing to make my way to the green serpent. I lay in the center if his tight circular form, relaxing as his body wraps protectively inwards.

“When you put it that way, then I suppose the only way to heal internal pain is rest.” He says, closing his eyes and flicking his tail to finish wrapping around me.

“I suppose you’re right.” I trail off in to a yawn before continuing,” if your other fang happen to fall out in the near future, can we make one in to a sword?”

Obake laughs in reply,” of course. But for now, we shall rest.”

And rest we shall, knowing Itachi was at peace, and somewhere waiting to uphold his promise. I made a personal promise to myself in that moment to make sure Itachi would never be forgotten, he was out there and prepared to watch us make the world a better place… starting with Ryuchi cave. It was useless to count how many heart beats it took until we finally meet again, but I would make the most of every beat, and every second it took… until we meet again.

#itachi uchiha #naruto imagines #naruto fanfiction #itachi x you #itachi imagines #uchiha itachi #itachi fic #itachi #itachi fanfiction #itachi naruto #itachi x y/n #itachi x reader

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tanjirou-no-au · 1 year

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Demon Hashira

Gyomei

A perversion of a Buddhist statue, stony skin shot through with cracks and six arms clutching a string of demonic eyes in lieu of prayer beads, capable of delivering catastrophic blows and massive shockwaves.

His Blood Demon Art is an insidious thing, a constant prayer dripping from his lips and sapping the fighting spirit from those who hear it. It secondary facet only activates once someone cuts through his skin, as any weapon coated in his blood becomes repelled from his being, making follow up strikes near impossible.

His Ultimate turns his prayer beads into burning projectiles that embed themselves in the ground and turn the earth into geysers of burning lava.

Tengen

A glittering thing, shining with the refracted light of the gems embedded into his skin.

With these gems he bends the light around himself, rendering him almost invisible to the naked eye or blinding his foes with retina scorching beams.

But his main method of attack are his wives, who rip apart his victims like drunken maenads as he supports them with a dizzying light show.

It is his wives which reveal the small glimmers of humanity that remain with him, as decapitating one will send him into a rage that sees him activate his ultimate, witch turns his embedded crystals into explosive shrapnel bombs that take root and grow in anything they’re lodged in.

Kanae & Shinobu

Kanae is the first demon of this duo most people see, pretty and human like save for the flowery crests that weave their way along her skin.

Her Blood Demon Art sharpens her fingers into long needle like claws coated in a venom that sprouts flowers in it’s wake, which she can manipulate to rapidly grow demonic forests or turn her victims into still living flower beds.

But should an opponent avoid her tricks, her back will unfold like a flower, unleashing her second, deadlier half.

Shinobu is a spiteful little thing, compound eyes and gnashing mandibles stinger tipped claws zipping through the battlefield, all to the maddening drone of wasp’s wings.

She is a slow killer, between sleep inducing fog scales, a dozen different poisons that provide their own hellish death, and an acidic digestive spit.

But her ultimate pumps her unfortunate victim with a venom that twists their flesh into a swarm of venomous insects that turn on any other human in the vicinity.

Muichiro

An...unsettling child, skipping through fog with a discordant laugh, ginkgo leaf patterns twisting across his skin and six eyes glinting mischievously.

Any who follow him into the mist fall into his trap, as breathing in the haze acts as a thought virus, obfuscating the senses and picking away memories, robbing more and more as the afflicted attempts to recall what’s been forgotten.

And as a last resort, Muichiro can gather this mist, coalescing it into a semisolid monster bearing features and faces stolen from his victim’s mind, a beast the juvenile demon has dubbed ‘Yuichiro’

Giyuu

A morose, ethereal creature, his pale, tear streaked face marked like a kabuki mask and his form framed by the nine tails fanned around him.

It is with these tails that he produces his blood art, splitting them off to create mirror images of himself or his opponents, which he can use to mob his foes and transfer injuries between them.

And as each tail is defeated, their simulacrum heads decapitated, he gathers them back into his form, transforming into a massive kitsune who shifts states between flowing water, freezing ice and steaming mist, only his demonic core remaining consistent enough to cut through.

Sanemi

Sanemi is the vision of violence, his face split in a hyena like grin, his once white hair dyed black by coagulated blood, his scars replaced by a dozen festering wounds that will never heal.

His blood is incredibly poisonous, and he is capable of turning the hemoglobin into vicious iron spikes, riddling his form with wicked blades that tear into his opponents and open new wounds in his own form.

With his ultimate he shoots his blood from his wounds in a fetid spray, each drop sprouting into a cornucopia of iron spikes meant to eviscerate any who come to close.

Kyojuro

An avian beast whose limbs are tipped by scythe-like claws, the flames of Rengoku’s humanity have been doused by transformation, his fiery hair reduced to blackened cinders matching the crow’s feathers that coat his limbs.

It is only upon the activation of his Blood Art that he regains his human splendour, setting his body aflame and animating his feathers, turning them into wings to lift him aloft and a flurry of fiery blades to rain upon any below him.

His Ultimate brings to bear the flames of hell, shaped into the forms of animals his human form might have imitated with his sword forms, chief among them a writhing, serpentine dragon.

Mitsuri

At first glance, Mitsuri appears as a...interesting but ultimately human figure. It is only a closer inspection that reveals the feline claws, the twinned bladed tails wrapped around her form, and the mouth on the back of her head that opens and opens and keeps opening.

She fights with a playful smile upon her face, a flirty taunt on her lips, her tails striking like whips to crush and cleave, and softening to shake any blows struck in response.

But it is within these taunts that the true danger lies, as her ultimate laces her words with a compulsion that turns even the most fervent Demon Slayer into her affectionate devotee, leading them to their doom as she sings her siren song.

Obanai

What else could Obanai be but a serpent, his lower half a mass of coiled muscle, a forked tongue flicking from between bandages that conceal a flexible, unhinging jaw. Even his hair is serpentine, writhing like a nest of vipers as his ire is stoked.

His Blood Demon Art is a stark contrast to Mitsuri’s, as looking into his mismatched eyes fills his victim’s heads with destructive, loathing thoughts that continue to linger even if one should escape.

His ultimate is perhaps more straightforward, summoning a writhing horde of vipers, maws filled with a paralyzing venom and the same denigrating thoughts carried upon their cacophonous hissing.

#KNY #KNY Roleswap AU #The Hashira #Himejima Gyomei #Uzui Tengen #Kochou Kanae #Kochou Shinobu #Tokito Muichiro #Tomioka Giyuu #Shinazugawa Sanemi #Rengoku Kyoujuro #Kanroji Mitsuri #Iguro Obanai

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awakefor48hours · 1 year

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I had a dream about this but I woke up prematurely so need help finishing it

Let's set the stage:

Version -- The only version of Vi is just from season 1 of Arcane (not from League of Legends) and the only Miles is just from Into the Spiderverse (not from any other Spider-Man/Marvel storyline)

Setting -- A metropolitan type area, similar to Undercity

That way they're in a situation that's catered to both of their strengths. Also to make it simple, there's no civilians nearby that they have to worry about.

Weapons -- They both have their normal weapons (Miles his web-shooters and Vi her gauntlets)

"But wait, I haven't seen Arcane" or "I haven't seen Into The Spiderverse" you might be saying. Well, under the cut are ways to understand their abilities more/basically a copy and paste of their wiki pages.

I've also made this playlist of all their fights in order so you can actually and understand see how strong they are and how they've changed throughout their story. (I still recommend giving below the cut a read).

Miles

Powers/Abilities

Wall Crawling -- Like any other spiderbeing, Miles can stick to walls.

Camouflage -- Miles can turn both his body and clothes invisible on command but if he's hit too hard, he can be visible again

Venom Strike -- Miles can control electricity and let it flow through his hands and even through his webs.

Super Strength -- Miles can lift 10 tons (10,000 kg). He can run faster and even endure head trauma and heal pretty quickly with little to no consequences.

Super Agility -- Even before Miles was bitten, he was already pretty agile but ever since he was bitten, he's been more agile than usual. But after he was bitten, he's been even more agile

Spider Sense -- similar to other spiderbeings, Miles can sense danger and his reflexes can kick in before he has time to consciously react and it even puts his fighting ability on the same level of an experienced melee fighter.

Weakness -- Despite his spiderpowers giving him a boost, he's still pretty inexperienced.

Powers/Abilities

Even though Vi is just a human, she's not weak in the slightest. She's very strong and has even fought people who are on the same level as Scorpion or the Rhino and won.

Boxing -- Vi has experience with boxing(and has even been analyzed by boxing professionals that her form is good and she could absolutely wreck you in a fight). There's also a scoreboard that shows just how well the main crew of act 1 were and Vi was always on top.

Endurance -- Vi can withstand a lot of hits. She's often covered in blood but still able to find strength within to stand up and fight afterward. The only times she's ever really stayed down after a fight is when she's pushed herself too hard and was surprised attacked.

Atlas Gauntlets -- The Atlas Gauntlets were originally made for miners and are powered by hextech (if you haven't seen the show, the gauntlets run on magic). Even though Vi has only been shown to use gauntlets as weapons a few times in the show, each time she does, she absolutely bodies anyone who gets in her way.

Agility -- Along being very muscular, Vi is also pretty agile. Even after being in prison for 5 years, she parkours to travel to most places and is damn good at it (dare I say, she's nearly as a good as a spiderbeing).

Weakness -- Vi doesn't always think everything through before she fights. While she can definitely afford to be that way, she had pushed herself too far before which is noted by Ekko saying "and you still block with your face." And can even noted when she tried to make a tricky parkour jump after getting stabbed and needed help just to stand up.

Overall, they're both experienced fighters and even have experience with fighting against super humans. They can both dish out a lot of damage, stay on their feet for a long time, and are able to take a hit.

*Also, I wrote over the course of a few days, so I don't know if I missed or overlooked anything. So if anyone wants to add anything, go ahead.

#my poll #poll #marvel #into the spiderverse #itspv #miles morales #spiderman #spider-man #arcane #vi #vi arcane #arcane netflix

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shokuto · 11 months

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Feel like Prowler Miles has a cloaking device on his person and a paralyzing electric charge in his gauntlets matching Miles’ invisibility and venom strike

#spiderman #miles morales #prowler miles #miles g #atsv #across the spiderverse

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glazelilyy · 2 years

Note

enemies to lovers + monoceros caeli + sun spot

request - monoceros caeli (childe/tartaglia) + sun spot (adapting each other's little habits) + enemies to lovers x gn!reader

warnings - this entire drabble is just you and childe sparring, canon-typical violence, mild description of non-specific injuries

a/n - i'm practically frothing at the mouth from how good an idea this is WOOOOOO i decided in the end to put a little twist on the prompt and have you both adopt each other's fighting techniques but i hope you enjoy!! i know i enjoyed writing this >:) (special shoutout to brynn who gave me excellent enemies to lovers advice because i, admittedly, have no idea how to write enemies to lovers LMAO) also this is my first written piece in a while so apologies if it sounds a lil wonky, i'm a tad rusty :P but the break has definitely helped me and i felt it as i was finishing this up! this has been in my drafts for about 2 months and i'm super glad to just finally finish it LMAO

metal clashed against metal in a flurry of dizzying, electric sparks. you grit your teeth and skid backwards on the soles of your shoes. dust billowed up from the disturbance, playfully swirling around you as you heaved a breath and readied your weapon for his next attack with eyes haunted by memories of his blade.

moonlight licked at your cheeks, hauntingly. your shadow followed your body in a dance as you dodged another blow. hydro droplets flung against your skin and left an imprint that burned too harsh for water.

"you've gotten weaker since we last battled." childe spat, a snarling grin stretching itself across his devilish lips. how traitorous the moonlight was for casting its ethereal, gentle glow on a living weapon of a man making him appear as a heavenly angel when he was no more than the worst demon from hell.

a flurry of your knives hurled themselves towards him. eager, thirsty and lusting for victory.

the garters that clung to your thighs and upper arms were now barren of the metal; thrown for naught as childe easily danced past your attempts to ambush him. you would've thought with his lanky limbs he might've sustained even a nick but here he remained: unscathed, much to your dismay.

"don't spout nonsense at me, harbinger." the title dripped venomous poison off your tongue between gritted teeth.

your body lurched forwards. you were tired of this song and dance and the harbinger needed someone to pry away his flute from his conniving little hands. your blade moved as an extension of your arm; as an extension of your hatred towards this man who drove you to the brink of insanity then drew you back in with a smile dipped in a corrosive, addicting liquid.

continued utc!

his arm thrashed upwards, watery droplets trailing behind his blade to block your strike. gods, how you wanted to wipe that charming little pretty boy smirk off his face.

"oh, so you think i'm pretty? my, how flattering." he crooned, devilishly from beneath the silver of your blade. curses, you said that out loud.

"you're pretty annoying if anything. now shut up and face me."

he whistled lowly, standing to full height as he knocked your blade back and twirled his own with deft, nimble fingers. "feisty thing, aren't you?"

your reply came in the form of quick swings of your weapon at his chest. a most appropriate response, you figured.

childe merely laughed and parried your attacks with a smile that made the skin on your neck crawl. his arm caught your waist in a bind and drew your body close against his, pinning your hands against his body and effectively disarming you for the moment. the hammer of his heart beat wildly against the thin skin of his chest like thunder itself swirled in the capacity of his lungs. chills scaled up and down your body as you squirmed desperately in his hold. a gloved finger traced an invisible line from behind your ear trailing along the side of your jugular down to your sternum, where childe finally stilled his movements.

"you're like a firework," he hummed with lidded eyes that swirled with an emotion you couldn't decipher, "when you burn, you burn brightly and fiercely. the impression you leave behind is beautiful—a spectacle that rings clear within a void, black sky..."

his voiced turned deep and clear, just above a whisper near your ear as he brushed his lips against the shell.

"it's such a shame that fireworks must fizz away into nothingness."

rage you'd never felt before seeped into your bones. white, hot, furious. this man was incredulous. with a cry you broke free of his hold, not missing and relishing in the surprise caught on his stupid face for the briefest of moments before it melted into a smile you could only describe as crazed.

he tackled you to the ground with the eagerness of a puppy, blue eyes wild and amazed like the swirl of a hurricane. you quickly kicked him backwards, looped your legs around his shoulders and squeezed with all your might before throwing him off to the side. childe broke into a fit of coughs, tenderly massaging the base of his neck as if to soothe the ache.

"quit babying yourself and get up, harbinger. we've yet to finish this." you spat as you rose from the ground and gripped your blade.

childe sputtered out a laugh and rose on shaky legs, "my, what a move! you've got some real tricks up your sleeve, comrade!"

you rolled your eyes. the absolute nerve of this man! "there will be plenty more where that came from if you sit still like a good boy and take your beating silently." your blade flickered ominously in the glint of the moonlight with an eager calling for his defeat.

"we both know that's not possible." he chuckled.

childe barely had a moment's reprieve before you lunged at him again with fire billowing in your pupils. with childe's physical strength it was difficult for you to imagine winning in melee combat and yet the stubborn part of you wanted to push your boundaries and face up directly against this devilish adrenaline junkie whose eyes sometimes made your heart skip a beat.

his hands moved deftly with his blade to parry your blows and attempt to deal some of his own. familiar lips were stretched into a grin that both simultaneously sent shivers of fear and intrigue down your spine.

no! no, your spine shivered at the mere thought of finding him attractive. childe of all people? you wanted to pause the battle and have a moment to reevaluate your thoughts. oh, but his eyes swam so beautifully with battle-lust in the innocence of moonlight...

you scoffed aloud and shook your head to empty your brain of the ridiculous thoughts. with your mind distracted, you barely had a moment to react when childe threw his body weight at you. your immediate response echoed back to his earlier move on you: your arm swept out and locked around his waist, pinning his arms to your body and rendering him incapable of movement.

"huh, copying my moves now are you?" childe grinned, all teeth. "well, in that case..."

in mere moments, you were thrown to the ground. barbatos himself seemed to arrive just to steal all the air from your lungs as your back hit the ground. before you could gather your wits, childe's legs had snaked up to your neck and squeezed mightily before echoing your earlier move and throwing you to the side, leaving you gasping for air.

"do i leave you breathless, comrade? i wasn't aware i had such an effect on you." childe drawled as he crouched on the balls of his heels and peered down at you like one would a pitiful childe. "now, how will you be admitting defeat? i expect some tears and perhaps maybe a favor owed or two."

archons, how did you even find this asshole attractive before? it doesn't count that him peering down at you with a sheen of sweat over his skin and fringes of his bangs clinging to his forehead made your stomach turn with the weight of butterflies.

with all the might and anger left in your system, you looked up at him and hissed, "go to...hell..." before lunging forwards at him with hands that sought his head (metaphorically, of course).

"wrong answer, sunshine!" he laughed and rolled over so he loomed over your body.

you'd been sparring with childe a long while, but now was one of the rare times you got to see him up close in all his sweat-bathed, battle-hungry glory. his chest heaved up and down from beneath the clothes that clung to his skin. blue eyes that seemed lost in an endless myriad of ocean water roved over your body with a thrill that you'd never seen in him before. a trickle of sweat cautiously teetered down the slope of his jaw before descending madly down his throat and over his adam's apple, which bobbed furiously.

"you're staring, comrade. do you really find me pretty?" he bat his eyelashes flirtatiously and you resisted the urge to sock him in the throat right then and there.

your leg curled around his waist and you flipped your positions so that you now straddled childe's waist. blade still in your hand, you pinned his wrists above his head and leaned downwards towards his ear to mimic his actions from earlier.

"that's a secret you'll never know."

with skilled hands you grabbed his hydroblades from his hands and sat back up, smugly dangling them from the hook of your index finger. "i win, harbinger."

you expected a cocky reply or perhaps even a smug laugh. but, instead, you were met with a speechless (for once) childe whose freckled cheeks blossomed with a shade of red you never knew existed. his lips parted as if to speak but for once his tap of mystical words and snarky jokes had run dry.

"aw, cat got your tongue? you know you're cuter when you're quiet." the index finger of your unoccupied hand moved just beneath his jaw to tip his head backwards. his compliancy surprised you, but it remained a victory in your mind nonetheless.

"so, best of threes? when do i get the pleasure of beating you to a pulp again?" you smiled gleefully as you rose from the ground and dusted your clothes.

if you had looked behind for a moment you would've seen the warbled smile that stretched across childe's face and the gleam of the toothy smile that cracked from his rosy red cheeks as he cast an arm over his eyes.

"anytime you want, sunshine."

he doesn't think your secret was much of a secret, and neither did you. just the way you both preferred it to be.

#5k/anni event. written in the stars #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact drabbles #childe genshin impact #tartaglia genshin impact #childe #tartaglia #childe drabbles #genshin x reader #genshin impact fluff #genshin fic

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floatin-croc · 10 months

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Well in that case...

I present to you, Warren.

He's an alien life form that crashed on earth a long time ago. He tried to mimic a human, as you can see in his design. It didn't work well, so he changed the strategy, making himself appear harmless to distract his preys, then strike when they're distracted.

His wings are covered with layer of scales that absorb light and make him almost invisible in the dark, when he wants to show himself, the scales reflect light. The "eyes" on his wings serve for intimidative purposes.

The spikes on his back are venomous, he uses them for defense. His hands has the similar structure to human's hand, his claws are retractable, and he used them to hunt.

He's been there for as long as he can remember, he's been through wars, feeding on corpses until he was forced to cocoon himself.

Warren was dug up by the local citizens while building the Cumulor, he immediately woke up and devoured a worker, and they had to muzzle him and keep him in a cage. Later on, he was moved into the Cumulor, and had to stay in a specialized cage with energy provided by the Cumulor, now that it's gone, he came back to hunt.

He's smart enough to communicate in simple words, and can identity what is food and what's not. He realized that he want to become more "human", so he kept Koukaki alive so that he can teach him everything about humans, and Choir for a companion. He copied Choir and used his wings as a robe.

I also headcanon that Warren used to live in Evadare (I headcanon that they're in the same timeline), everything he learned there was killing and hunting, which led to his hostile behavior in my au. He then moved to another place which would be Riviera now.

#incredibox #incredibox au #incredibox fanart #incredibox oc

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pixelatedsticks · 4 months

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I can thank @kyuairyeo for making me become hyper fixated on the spider-Sakuya au and because @kosukeiichi asked nicely I will now proceed to rant extensively about said au, the things that happen in it, and my own personal headcannons of course. The list will not be in chronological order.

The spider that bit Sakuya was genetically modified and infused with lupin piece energy which left some weird effects on him. He can now sense when lupin pieces are nearby which makes him able to distinguish a human and a human disguise. This got him in trouble with the GSPO from the director “you can’t go around assaulting random civilians, even if they are ganglers! What would the public think?!” To hilltop “Sakuya we all appreciate this gift you have but this is the fifth time you’ve run off give us a warning please-“. This ‘gift’ even got him snatched by the lupinrangers that one time and used as their personal ‘gangler detector’.

When sakuya was bit he collapsed and passed out for a few hours completely missing when the gangler that framed him badly injured his team. He first only adopted the vigilante persona to get revenge for not being able to stop the gangler but after saving some people and them praising him and claiming he was a hero he decided to become Spider-Man.

Sakuyas dna mutated when the spider bit him which greatly peaked goches interest. He’s simultaneously a human but also part spider and part lupin piece. She was greatly intrigued about how a specimen like this could even exist. This put her at odds with the other gangler generals because of dongranio wanting to flat out kill him. She even hired a gangler to capture him and bring him to her so she could dissect him.

Venom originally bonded to Sakuya as a means to become general but then tried to persuade him to join the ganglers.

The mere mention of Spider-Man is enough to strike absolute fear into many ganglers eyes as stories of him defeating various ganglers with his bare hands have spread across the backworld.

Noel is the one who makes and repairs Sakuyas suits for him.

The spider was genetically modified with all the normal Spider-Man powers (wall climbing, strength, spider sense etc.) but also infused with lupin pieces that gave it the ability of bio-electricity and invisibility. So he’s basically miles but he can also produce natural webbing.

The Vulture is a black market dealer who takes dead ganglers and dissects them to turn into weapons and sells them to the highest bidders. His armor and wings are made from a mix of metal and dead gangler parts. His business expanded when he found a way to crack open the safes and started using lupin pieces as power sources.

Sakuya interacts with the community more than any other ranger which has given him a fair amount of popularity. Especially with children. It annoys Keiichiro to no end.

When Sakuyas identity was first revealed to the other rangers he was labeled as a gangler. This caused high tension between Sakuya and the other rangers as they tried and sometimes almost succeeded in killing him on multiple occasions. The Lupins attacked him more frequently but the patrangers were far more aggressive.

Being labeled as a gangler caused him to lose his job and being filed as dead. When everything was cleared up he still couldn’t legally come back because of complications with his secret identity and the fact it would raise to much suspicion to relabel a dead person as alive again. He unofficially works as an informant for the GSPO.

Noel got really close to Sakuya after he found out his identity and because of their secret missions they do they have a lot of inside jokes. The rest of the ranger think it’s because they have a crush on eachother. This isn’t helped by the fact that Noel flirts alot and Sakuya lets some of his Spider-Man personality slip.

Sakuya is constantly forgetting he’s not normal. After his identity was revealed to the lupins and the pats he has had more freedom for when and where he uses his powers. And while the lupins and pats have grown used to his powers the public has not. He’ll constantly get comments like “isn’t that extremely heavy?” “Didn’t that hurt?” “How are you holding onto that” “it’s like you just appeared out of thin air?!” “how did you catch that ball flying at you when you couldn’t even SEE IT-”. The lupins and pats make excuses and scold him every time this happens. Yet somehow he still forgets he’s not normal and has to remind himself he has powers.

The lupinrangers are technically the ones responsible for giving Sakuya his powers as the spider hitched a ride out of the lab on them after they raided it.

Never ask Sakuya to explain how much something hurts his pain scale is horrifying.

Sakuya has acquired vast medical knowledge as Spider-Man. Before the pats knew his identity he was by himself. He was the one patching himself up after every fight. He was the one making a homemade cast out of web to nurse a broken bone. He was the one stitching his skin back together so he wouldn’t bleed to death. He’s had a lot of trial and error of how to deal with all kinds of injury’s. It sometimes makes Tsukasa sad that he had no one to rely on and had to deal with everything himself.

Sakuya teeth got sharper and he got fangs after he was bit. He isn’t venomous though.

The lupin piece that gave Sakuya his bio electricity became unstable after being used on the spider which resulted in a freak lab accident that transferred the rest of the power into a scientist creating Electro.

Sakuya has a higher level of endurance and regenerates faster than a regular human which has lead him to be more reckless. He is constantly giving the other rangers heart attacks by purposely placing himself in the middle of danger. He was once wondering why it was so hard to focus on work before Tsukasa practically yelled that he had a shard of metal in his leg. Sakuyas response was “oh, this?” And then he pulled it out and went right back to work. Much to the horror of his co workers.

Sakuya is constantly on the move and saving people so he’s gotten used to sleeping anywhere. He will find a way to sleep comfortably on a ladder. He can’t be trusted to be alone when he’s sleepy, it’s impossible to wake him up once he goes down.

Keiichiro, Tsukasa, and hilltop were absolutely horrified to learn that he was trapped under a building when he fought the vulture.

Sakuya is very bad at self care. Every single other ranger has recounted a time where they chased Sakuya down and forced him to take care of himself. Wether it be tooma forcing him to eat because he hasn’t been for the last two days or Keiichiro dragging him back to his house because he is absolutely NOT patrolling with a dislocated shoulder.

When the ryusoulgers met the patrangers and heard about Sakuyas abilities they immediately made asuna challenge him to an arm wrestling competition and towa challenged him to see who was faster.

When the kyurangers met the patrangers hammie and Sakuya became extremely close because of their shared powers. They formed a sibling like relationship with eachother.

Zamigo likes Sakuya, well likes Spider-Man. With raw strength greater than a lupinranger and patranger combined and stubbornness to boot zamigo finds him an even more entertaining opponent than Kairi. This makes Kairi absolutely despise Spider-Man as zamigo wasn’t interested in fighting him anymore.

Satoru after being saved by Sakuya checks on him a lot to see how he’s doing. Sakuya often gives saturo weekly reports of what he did as Spider-Man. And updates him on what Keiichiro and Tsukasa are doing as well.

Sakuya is absolutely covered in scars. Ranging from bullets to blades to even burn scars.

Sakuya developed sensory issues after the spider bite and has adopted the habit of entering the office through the window as he cannot be around that many people in the morning.

If Sakuya doesn’t use his bio-electricity for a while he’ll get static-y with all the built up energy.

Sakuya lives by the fact that the world isn’t black and white. He will extend kindness to any human, gangler or alien. Even if they don’t deserve it.

Sakuya metabolism is through the roof. He is constantly burning through energy and eats a lot too. He started buying his own groceries after tooma commented about it once.

Sakuya secludes himself when he’s injured because of the whole ‘learning how to help himself’. Keiichiro and Tsukasa have learned that whenever he locks himself in the bathroom he’s patching up an injury and they jump him when he comes out to drag him off to the infirmary.

Sakuya also doesn’t communicate very well. He is not a leader and when he is it’s to himself. So he has a bad habit of going no contact while on missions and it infuriates the pats to no end.

Sakuya has made himself flatline before to trick a gangler and it scared the shit out of Noel when he found him.

Sakuya invisibility reacts with his emotion so when he’s excited he’ll flicker in and out of sight.

Sakuya once made the mistake of saying “if I’m not dead I’m fine” and Keiichiro immediately reprimanded (yelled) at him for a solid 5 minutes about it.

The duality of Sakuya is that he can survive multiple life threatening injury’s without batting an eye but can’t stay in a turtleneck sweater for more than 2 hours without getting sensory issues.

Sakuyas Spider-Man personality is best described as a mix between the 10th doctor humor and sassiness and the 11th doctors childishness.

Noel and Sakuya both have parkour competitions when they’re off work. Surprisingly Noel is winning.

Sometimes Past ganglers or villains Spider-Man has helped will show up at his apartment for free impromptu therapy/guidance or for coffee. Sakuya is a bit too nice to turn any of them down.

Sakuya had mastered the disappointed mom look to a scary degree. He once even managed to make Tooma stutter by accidentally giving him the look.

The Pats sometimes go out of their way to do something or be there for Sakuya as a way of making it up to him for the whole thinking he’s a gangler fiasco. The Lupins admitted that they didn’t know how to make it up to him.

Yes Sakuya is built like a martini glass.

Kairi and Sakuya will have pleasant conversations with eachother. Lupin red and Spiderman will try and end eachothers bloodline.

Sakuya down plays injury’s a lot as he isn’t at much risk because of his healing. Its basically. “Your arm’s cut in half!” “Tis but a scratch” “a SCRATCH?!”

Sakuya has the no killing rule for humans but is more lenient with ganglers because their actual threats who have killed before and will do it again. He’s kinda like tanjiro, he not hesitate to kill ganglers to prevent suffering but if they feel regret or never wanted to kill in the first place he’ll give them a chance. No more than 1 though.

Well I had a lot more ideas than I originally thought. I might start making more posts related to this au as I find it enjoyable to think about. If I do I’ll definitely flesh the story out more and get an actual timeline down.

#lupinranger vs patranger #keiichiro akasaka #tsukasa myoujin #Hikawa Sakuya #kaitou sentai lupinranger vs keisatsu sentai patranger #patrangers #lupinrangers #Umika #kairi yano #tooma #au #spiderman #spider man au #hilltop #lupat au

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