#And. Apparently dark blue is a good color to light the skin

[perlelune]

Tag, You’re It | Ethan Landry | ii.

Happy, carefree college days meet their abrupt end when every guy who approaches you mysteriously turns up dead.

Warnings: NON-CON, Stalking, Bimbo!Reader, Clueless Reader, Loss of Virginity, Incel Ethan, Cheerleader Reader, Skin Carving (w/knife), Canon Typical Slashing, Voyeurism, Kidnapping

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

The party’s already in full swing when you arrive at the OKB house. While getting ready, you lost track of time. Putting the finishing touches on your hair and nails took longer than you planned. 

You dodge the bodies swaying to the loud music to make your way to your friends through the swirling blue lights. 

Mindy spots you right away and waves at you. 

"Not bad, freshman," she praises as you twirl in front of her and Mindy to show off your nurse costume decorated with splashes of fake blood.  

They’re both sprawled on the couch, limbs twined. Expectedly, only Anika made the effort to don anything resembling a costume, a pumpkin-colored hat with a bloody knife poking out of it sitting atop her head. 

Mindy even bothering to come considering what happened the last time she attended a frat party is already a huge effort on her part. 

You chat for some time, sharing the latest news regarding your friends. 

 You learn that apparently Tara got into it with her sister…again.

A lot of tension has built between the two of them lately, Sam’s protectiveness clashing with Tara’s craving for independence. 

Maybe Sam’s been overdoing…but who can blame her?

Those two have been through hell and back. 

"Have you guys seen Connor?" 

While you attempt to sound casual, even tossing a shrug, Mindy sees right through you and flashes you a teasing grin. 

"One-track minded, huh?"

Your face warms. "Sorry, I just…I really looked forward to seeing him."

Anika gives your hand an encouraging squeeze. 

"It’s okay, babe. To be young and in love."

"And horny," Mindy adds, dragging a quick eye over your outfit as her smile broadens. 

Her comment sparks more heat in your cheeks. Sure, things between you and Connor are growing steamier. But you don’t want to rush anything. You like him, and you want your first time to be special, romantic.

"I’ll see you guys later."

"Have fun," Mindy says, waving her beer bottle at you.

Your search resumes and you grow nervous, pondering if Connor is even in attendance. Maybe you missed him. Downsides of running late. 

Damn you and your tendency to spend hours dolling yourself up. 

 As you wander across the room, you nearly crash into a familiar broad, muscular back.

An easy smile creeps on your face when your friend turns to face you. 

"Hi."

"Hey, looking good."

"You too, cowboy."

You’re pretty certain Chad’s never looked bad a day in his life. There’s a reason why he’s the most popular player on the team, and one of the most sought-after guys at Blackmore. Well…several, starting with the fact that his hotness is only matched by his unwavering kindness to everybody he meets. 

You suppose if you hadn’t known him for so long, you’d harbor a crush on him too. But you’re too familiar with Chad to see him in that light. You still recall when he insisted on wearing a Pokemon onesie for nearly a year. You used to watch cartoons with him and Mindy as children, play together. He’s even tried to get you into Magic: The Gathering at some point but you couldn’t understand how the game works so he gave up. He’s like the brother you never had. 

"So I hear you've met Ethan. He's cool, right?" He throws his muscular arm around Ethan’s neck affectionately. "A whole snack he is. Look at him." An endearing tinge of red decorates Ethan’s cheeks, his gaze fleeing yours. 

It draws a smile from you. You’re glad they’re getting along. 

You tilt your head, gauging his appearance. Confusion fills you.

You’re not exactly sure what Ethan’s costume is supposed to be. A knight perhaps? Either way, it’s original and it suits him.

"Hey again," you greet. 

He lifts two bashful fingers as a response, returning your smile.

"Yeah. I appreciate him helping me out."

Ethan’s chestnut gaze widens at your words. 

College’s busy enough for everyone. It’s incredible of him to offer some of his free time to help you out when it doesn’t benefit him in any way. 

Ethan opens his mouth as if he were about to say something but, before he can speak, someone taps you on the shoulder, beckoning your attention. 

You pivot in your high heels.

Your chest floods with warmth at the sight welcoming you. 

"Hey, gorgeous," Connor hums, giving you an appreciative onceover that turns your legs into jelly. His voice lowers as he approaches you. "I’ve been looking for you all night. Where have you been?"

Your heart skips a beat at his closeness, the scent of his masculine cologne and his mesmerizing blue eyes overwhelming you. 

"Just ran a bit late," you mumble. 

His hooded gaze takes you in as he suggests, "Well, you’re here now. Wanna go hang out in my car?"

Pursing your mouth, you hesitate. 

"I…I don’t know. Is that safe? Mindy says it’s always best to stay in crowded-"

He halts your explanation with a hand under your chin. Bewildered, you gawk at him. 

His pearly whites shimmer in the dusky blue and green hues saturating the room. 

"Do you trust me, gorgeous?"

You blink up at him, dazed and lost in the sea of his gaze. 

"Y-Yes, I do."

"I’ll keep you safe. I promise. Come on."

His hand engulfs yours as Connor begins to drag you toward the exit.

Chad’s deep, concerned voice interrupts the abrupt getaway. 

"Are you sure?" His forehead creases as he inches closer. "You don’t have to do anything you don’t want. You know that, right?" 

At first, you’re a bit confused. 

Then you remind yourself he’s just being protective. Both he and Mindy share that trait. In fact, her attentive eyes carve a searing dent in your skin from the other side of the room. 

Usually, you adore that about them, how caring they are. But right now, you find it a bit much. 

Connor isn’t a threat. He’s just the guy you like, not a serial killer. 

You place a placating hand on Chad’s arm. 

"It’s fine. I trust him. Catch you later, okay?"

He gives a belated nod, his jaw clenching as he stares Connor down, before letting you walk away. 

You wave Ethan goodbye but are somewhat dejected when he stares at you and doesn’t reply, his blank expression unreadable.

Both you and Connor step outside. 

Moonlight bathes the damp pavement in silvery light as you trail behind him. 

He wastes no time once you’ve reached his expensive sports car, pinning you against the hood and kissing you senseless. 

"Fuck, been dying to do this ever since I saw you in that slutty costume," he purrs against your temple. His hands begin to roam over you, impatient fingers fondling your curves. 

When he sneaks under your short dress and tugs at the waistband of your panties, you push against his chest. 

A sudden tide of discomfort swells inside you. 

"Connor…wait. This is going a little fast for me," you giggle.

Ignoring your protests, he keeps kissing you and even turns things up a notch by grabbing a fistful of your ass. You gasp. 

"Just relax. I won’t hurt you, gorgeous."

His weight presses against you, a sizzling cage of need you can’t escape. Tears prick at your eyes. 

"Connor, please…" you whimper.

Annoyance ripples in his tone as the grip on your rear gets firmer. 

"How you’re gonna be a fucking cocktease then give me blue balls, come on, gorgeous."

His tone is light but your chest is heavy. This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go. You hoped Connor would be gentle and nice. 

This isn’t nice. 

And you’re starting to feel a little scared. As the taut bulge in his crotch rubs at your front, your stomach knots.

But things don’t get to wander any further.

In fact, they hit a sudden stop as Connor stills against you. Your brows knit. 

As he chokes on his own breath, blood gushes from his mouth, painting the front of your costume crimson. 

Your eyes widen as his head lolls before he slumps to the pavement with a heavy thud. 

Time stands still when your gaze lifts. 

Your heart slams against your ribcage.

A tall figure clad in black and donning a Ghostface mask is now standing before you.

The blood rushing in your veins makes your ears ring.

The stranger cocks his head, studying you for a few seconds before pouncing on Connor’s prone form like a starved hyena. 

Horror-struck, you gawk as the stranger rains vicious stab after vicious stab upon Connor's writhing body. Each strike draws a shudder from you, more violent than the last and causing scarlet rivers to flow from every part of Connor. 

The world becomes red. 

A scream bubbles in your throat but remains trapped in it, shock striking you mute. 

When Connor's body stops moving, the sickening squish of the blade twisting out of his mangled flesh reaches you. 

With the knife in his hand still dripping blood, its crimson hue catching the moonlight, the killer rises to his feet. 

His focus travels to you. Your insides coil, deadly anticipation gripping you as tight as a fist. 

A gravelly, distorted voice rises beneath the mask. 

"This is the part where you run, princess."

Right…

It’s what happens in those horror movies Mindy had you watch with her, you think. The characters run away, fighting whatever’s chasing them with all their might. 

It’s the sensible thing to do. 

And you want to move. You should move. But you can't. 

Even breathing is toilsome, stilted whimpers and gasps spilling from your chest instead. 

All you can do is peer into the pupil-less gaze of the mask as you crumble into a quivering, sobbing heap onto the pavement. 

The killer inches closer and it's as if your heart jumps out of your chest. 

His blade kisses the trembling flesh of your throat, right above your racing pulse. 

Languid tears roll down your face as he traces your jugular. 

Cool metal slices past your collarbone, to your rapidly heaving chest. 

The song of the night yields to the symphony of fear echoing in your ears. Every scattered heartbeat. Every uneven breath. Every desperate sob.

A sharp stinging blooms in your delicate flesh as he carves oblong patterns on your breast with his knife. 

His motions are slow and focused, as if your skin’s the canvas and his blade the brush. 

Paralyzed, you don’t move. His cloaked figure bends and blurs in your misty vision, more monster than man in the scarce light provided by the street lamps.

He slants his head when he’s done, admiring his handiwork. 

This must be it, you infer, the moment all of it ends. 

Your eyes quake shut as you wait for the inevitable blow. 

You wait… An eternity it seems. 

For the blood. For the agony. For the darkness. 

Yet nothing comes. 

When you open your eyes, Ghostface is gone, the only nightmarish vision before you being that of Connor's body lying unmoving on the pavement. 

You pay no attention to the chaos around you as you pull the thin blanket closer to your frame.

The lights of the ambulance twinkle in your hazy sight. 

Amidst the chatter of shocked students standing in the street behind the yellow tape, the whispers of reassurance of Mindy and Tara fade to white noise in your ears. 

Numb, you gawk as they drag Connor’s body away on a gurney.

For some silly reason, you keep expecting him to rise again, to not be dead.

Because this cannot be real.

This cannot have happened. 

The police ask you a barrage of questions and you give mechanical answers. None of them help and they grow frustrated with you, sparking a heated argument between your friends and the stubborn cop. 

"I’m just doing my job," he insists, raising his hands when Chad gets in his face.

If it weren’t for Detective Bailey vouching for you, you’re not entirely sure you wouldn’t be sitting in the back of a patrol car right now. 

"Can’t you see the kid’s traumatized. She doesn’t know anything," he berates one his co-worker who seemed unwilling to accept your version of events. 

The one where you froze and Ghostface somehow let you live with only a strangely shaped scar on your chest as a souvenir. The one the medic commented looked a little like a heart. 

Absently, you pat the gauze covering the healing wound. 

It's weird…but it hurts your head to ponder why this occurred. The only emotion you can process is the crippling guilt consuming you. 

You’re alive while Connor's cold body is on its way to the morgue.

Your friends gather around you, their warmth chasing away the night’s chill. While Tara and Mindy sit next to you on the pavement, Chad stands protectively in front of you. 

"I-I didn’t do anything, Tara. I just let him…" Your voice cracks, withering into a sob. 

The arm around your shoulder gets tighter.

"Hey, don’t talk like that. It’s not your fault," she feverishly responds.

You open your mouth to argue but close it once it dawns on you that all the energy’s been drained from your body. There is none left in you.

Still, you can’t help but disagree. If it were Tara, her sister, or even Mindy, you bet they’d have fought tooth and nail instead of shrinking and crying like you did. 

You’re the weak link in your group. Not smart enough, or strong enough. 

The thought makes you sob harder. 

Mindy rubs circles on your back. 

You cast a quick glance around before your tearful gaze finds hers. 

"Where’s Anika?"

"She went home. She’s not great with blood. She sends her love though."

You nod at that. If you could, you’d be home too, hugging your stuffed bear and trying your best to forget this awful night ever happened. 

Chad’s irate tone startles you out of your fog. 

"Speaking of people not being here… where the hell is Ethan?" 

You blink up at him, confused as he and Mindy trade a pointed, heavy look.

You don’t get it. 

Sure, Ethan’s new to the group, and the twins are slow to give their trust. You know that. But Ethan? He’s entirely too sweet and kind to have anything to do with this…Right?

Ethan wouldn’t. You’re sure of it. 

~

#ethan landry #dark!ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x bimbo!reader #ethan landry x you #scream 6 #scream vi #scream

[waywardcrow]

Gorgeous.

Summary: Bucky is so gorgeous and you need to tell him in a very particular way.

Warnings: English is not my first language so please if I make a mistake tell me, alcohol, drunk rambles, fluff, a tiny bit of angst but not really, Bucky being Bucky, this was very self-indulgent and inspired in that Taylor Swift song we all love, if I forgot something please let me know.

I do not consent to my work being copied, translated or reposted.

“I can’t stop looking at you, it’s infuriating” you needed to stop talking but the alcohol in your veins only fuels more your infatuation with the super soldier who looked at you with a smirk. “And why is that, sweetheart?” he asked like he didn’t knew, the little shit. You scoffed while making yourself comfortable in your seat –his lap- and rolled your eyes. He was so damn handsome, even in the multiple color lights that Tony arranged for the party and the music was so loud that you had to talk very close to him so Bucky could hear you which also didn't help, you could see every freckle, every little beautiful detail. “Barnes, you know why” It was impossible that he didn’t knew you were crazy about him, always daydreaming about his eyes so blue that you could drown in them, his dark hair that looked so soft to the touch, his smirk full of charm, all about him made it very difficult to even meet his eye and you weren’t the only one. Agents, lab assistants, even the damn journalist who interview the team a few days back, all of them fell victims of him. “I swear I have no idea what are you talking about, love.” He started to rub circles in your back, his cold vibranium hand sending shivers at the contact with your skin. The simple navy blue dress you chose for Yelena’s birthday was apparently enough to catch his attention but it wasn’t enough for you, he was in your thoughts since you two met and Bucky didn’t seemed to understand it.

“Because you are gorgeous, you cheeky son of a bitch” that was your answer when his smile got wider, as if he found pleasure in troubling you, the words were starting to blur in your tongue, most likely for the shots you had with Natasha and Maria but the need to tell Bucky everything that was in your heart burned in your tongue just like tequila “you are so fucking handsome that I can barely believe you are real and your laugh makes me feel all tingly and full of joy at the same time” you averted your eyes but his stare burn in your skin to make you know his attention was on you “and you make me feel so at peace that is aggravating.” The rest of the team was distracted which was good, if someone else could listen to you talk right now, they will never let you hear the end of it. “Sweetheart…” “Let me finish Barnes” you interrupted, his amused surprise made you sigh when you saw him bit his lip “see? That´s the shit I’m talking about, no one should look this fine, you should really think about the consequences of doing stuff like that in front of me or any other person, I don’t think your girlfriend approves, if you have a girlfriend in the first place. Bucky’s eyebrows got up, that was interesting.

“My girlfriend, huh?” “Yeah, or your girlfriends or boyfriend, boyfriends, significant one” you started rambling because who were you to assume things about him? His laugh broke your train of thought, leaving you in awe of such spectacle “this is so unfair.” You mumbled tracing with your fingertips the smile lines surrounding his eyes, all the embarrassment and concern about his love life forgotten. “You are one to talk about it, doll” he said helping you find a comfortable position so you could lay your head against his shoulder, starting to doze off after you yawn “are you sleepy?” You nodded and closed your eyes, hugging him as best as you could with your free arm. “I hate how good you smell and how comfy you are, I want to sleep here forever.” Bucky smiled, you fell asleep after that and he got up to take you to your room. “Is your girl ok?” Sam asked him when he walked pass him and Peter in the pool table. “She's just sleepy, I’m going to take her to our bedroom” Both guys said their good nights and Bucky made it to the elevators, your face was so relaxed that he almost felt bad for how much he will tease you about your confession for the next days but that's what you get when forgot you both were already married.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x f!reader

[genderfluid-insomniac]

“Poor Unfortunate Soul Reprise” octopus hybrid!Scaramouche x reader nsfw

A/N: picture for reference of Cecaelia the actual term for the myth being (male reference). Sorry this took so long it was collecting dust in my folder for a while due to cliche AO3 author shit but I hope you enjoy!

You couldn’t tell how much time has passed but what you do know is you’re sore like you’ve been hit by a truck, stirring awake enough to feel someone cradling you in their arms and tiny waves of water lapping at your shins. The cool temperature of the water shook your sleep logged mind enough to register that you were still naked and tried to sink deeper into your sleeping companions body warmth.

It was very dark but a small dark red light illuminated the cavern softly, allowing you to see you were in Scaramouche’s more private habitat where no one could see him unless a diver swam into it. Which rarely happened since the last person who tried it ended up with a broken arm and a 4 week recovery period, a silent message from the Cecaelia. “Keep out pathetic weaklings.”

Scaramouche had pale as snow skin like he’d rarely been in the sun for longer than a couple minutes and mix of blues and purples coloring his ear that took on a more webbed fin like appearance. Bits of vibrantly sparkly lavender scales scattering his body from the waist up, giving more of a divine appearance compared to his sharjjp fowl mouth. His tentacles were twitching ever so slightly and almost blending into dark waters, their mass made up of entirely muscles reminding you of their power. A face so gorgeous looking like it was sculpted by the gods or some heavenly being designed to lure people into a sense of calm. Short silky smooth dark violet blue hair with messy cut bangs framing his youthful face and thin but longer hair falling down this back swaying on the surface of the water. Speak of the devil or sea witch rather.

Cecaelia. A term your superiors had found after scouring the library and internet for answers. Happening upon the very name for a being that had the upper of half of a human and the lower half (usually at the waist or hips) of an octopus. They apparently have others unknown abilities being to said to take ‘a form of mermaid or sea demon’ and most often ‘combining the head, arms and torso of a woman (more rarely a man)’.

He could feel you squirming as you woke and chose to leave you to your devices, only worming his tentacles around you for a better grasp and settling his pet into a more comfortable position as you both came to. “Good morning, pet. I can see you had a nice nap.” Scaramouche chuckled to himself as his eyes flicked over every mark adorning your body and wrapping his arms around your waist to bring you closer. “I hope you aren’t too sore Name because I have plans for you but for now rest up.” Kissing gently on your lips and hoping you weren’t too cold or the effects of his blood hadn’t faded.

You hummed in satisfaction and fully relaxed, murmuring a “thank you” before succumbing to the fatigue pulling at your eyelids and leaning into your dear companion. A talk about what your relationship was could be had at a later time. Dreams slowly passed your mind and occupied your attention, provoking thoughts gaining your attention; such as how were you supposed to go back to your job after this happened? Did he like you more than just a one night stand? Well, the way he spoke didn’t seem like he planned on giving you up nor like things would go back to normal. ‘I hope you aren’t too sore Name because I have plans for you but for now rest up.’ Hm.

The stress from all your questions wouldn’t allow you to sleep soundly and ended up waking up anyway, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and stretching. Your head turned to Scara and nudged your head under his chin to wake him up. “Scara I need to talk to you about what the fuck is going to happen after this….thing.” Laughter filled the small cave and bounced off the walls, his arms moved you so you faced him. “And what would you like to talk about, love?” You sucked in a breath and rethought what you wanted to say, “First what are we in terms of our relationship? Second, what plans do you have for me? Three-”

You remember reading some of the documents given to the staff of the mythology and one of the sections was about reproduction or theorized romantic relationships. It was said that cecaelias are likely to mate for life or until one of them reaches death and are loyal to the end when the find the one they love. That couldn’t be what he felt for you right? He did seem seriously about his feelings, not to mention the clear favoritism he held for you as you both grew to become familiar with another.

A feeler covered your mouth before you could finish your sentence and wouldn’t move when you tried pulling it away, glaring at the person responsible. “Don’t look at me. You were the one who was talking too fast for me to understand… hahaha but alright. To answer your first question, I thought I made myself clear. You’re mine now and until I decide so, pet. For the second question, you’re going to help me out of this damn prison and back to your house.” To say you were stunned was an understatement, starting to spew worries about your job and him getting hurt but it was of course muffled by one of his arms gagging your mouth.

“I know, I know. ugh, you humans and your meaningless worries. I assume your anxious about getting fired or in trouble.” His hand stroked your hair soothingly in an attempt to calm you and removed his tentacle so you could speak. You nodded and chose to say nothing about the worry of him getting hurt since all it would do is inflate his ego. “Alright thank you for clarifying but how the fuck am I supposed sneak you out. You’re enormous and I don’t think you can survive on land for long periods of time.”

The violet haired being rolled his eyes and told you you had nothing to worry about, just rely on him and after hours cut the power entirely. Help get Scaramouche get out to your car and then turn it back on so the other animals would be okay but it would seem as if it was simply a power outage. You hesitated but agreed after he told you if you did get caught then he’d take the entire blame and punishment, insisting that it wouldn’t come to that. “Alright, but what time is it?” One of his purple slimy arms pulled a watch from a small crack in the wall next to the light and examined it. “6am. As much as I would love to keep you here, you have work and I have breakfast to eat.”

Right. Work. You hoped it was a relatively low maintenance day and saw your still dampened clothes being handed to you, thanking your now boyfriend and standing on the dryer platform to put your clothes back on. “I just remembered that I have to swim back up to to surface which means my work clothes will get wet. Well, I suppose it was worth it-” A feeler curled its way around your ankle tightly and squeezed, “You suppose?! Ugh, it looks like I didn’t fuck you hard enough did I? Or maybe you’re daring me to test my own stamina like the brat you are.” You scoffed and finished buttoning up your shirt, getting back into the water. Slapping the arm still stuck to your ankle lightly and kissed his cheek, enjoying the light pink flush filling his cheeks and grinning at your small success of making him flustered.

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. You’ll have to find out. Now, if you want to leave with me tonight then help me get out of here because I don’t know if any security is patrolling this area.” Scaramouche shook his head to get focused again and slipped under the water to check, quickly coming back up to let you know it was all clear. You took a deep breath and sunk underneath the water. The trip to the top of the tank was fast, much faster than if you swam on your own. Fresh air filling your lungs and pulling yourself onto the platform for the trainers, climbing up the ladder and reaching for a towel by a bench with supplies.

Hearing him cough for attention, you went over to fridge and pulled out a sizable part of bass that was already prepared. “Don’t think I forgot about you, discount ursula.” Throwing it to the hybrid and ignoring the glare he sent your way for the insulting nickname, muttering something about being better than whoever this ursula person was. “I must’ve done something right to receive more food than usual. Seems like should keep testing your limits.” He smirked as you muttered curses in anger at him and walked off to change clothes, admiring the visible marks he had left last night and swimming down to enjoy the alone he had before the building opened.

You wandered into the employees only section where the uniforms were kept whenever volunteers would sign up and pulled out your size, changing into them and using your towel to dry your hair. It was still early and you hadn’t had anything to eat so you went to the cafeteria usually meant for customers. Checking the schedule to see which area you’d be covering today and were shocked to see you’d be in charge of Scaramouche’s tank with another person since it was a two person job. “Oh guess I won’t have to stray far from him. Wait this means he won’t bother to hide much since he’ll probably want to torment me more and that means a bigger crowd.”

Grabbing a scone and coffee quickly before heading back up to grab your phone, headphones, and employee badge. You texted your coworker that you had come early and that you were both on cecaelia duty, laughing at the comment Alex made about work being cut out for you both. Well, they weren’t wrong but for you it was for different reasons and went to space in front of his tank to tell him the news. The gate to the employees area unclipped as you got behind the metal railing and pressed a button that was connected so a waterproof speak in the water.

“Scaramouche. I’m going to be working with you today.” Keeping the call button on so he could hear the outside and struggling to keep your chuckling visible when you saw the hybrid swim down so quickly, scaring off a bunch of fish and receiving a hiss from a algae green large moray eel. A small but noticeable smile spread across his face before it disappeared as soon as it appeared most likely to keep up his ‘I don’t care and I hate you all’ act. “Oh! And Alex is working with me too.” He looked visibly displeased and went to swim away before you spoke again. “Wait, regardless I’m going to stay with you. Would you rather me work in another part of the building cause I can make that happen?” You didn’t know if you could but the threat was clear and he gave you an angry look, not saying anything but not disagree either. “That’s what I thought.”

He pressed a hand against the thick glass and only looked at you, what you wouldn’t give to see what was going on in his mind. Pressing your own hand against the glass and smiling, asking him through the intercom if he had a way to get out of the tank. Scaramouche nodded and continued to “talk” with you, on occasion making rude gestures whenever you teased him or caught his soft emotional looks (even if it only happened once in a blue moon). “Name! Hey- Oh Woah! The spitfire legend is out!” Alex jogged over to you and got behind the gate as well, admiring him closely since it was rare to see him out in the open and this close to the glass on his own free will.

“Wow! He’s more beautiful than I thought. What did you do to get him out?” You laughed at their fixed gaze on Scaramouche who clearly was not pleased with the attention solely on him and feigned ignorance. “I don’t know, I just got hear and made my rounds only to see him out.” They laughed and pushed your playfully, “Yeah right. Everyone knows he like you more than anyone here, not to mention you explicitly tell others how not to piss him off. Do you know how many accidents you’ve prevented?” As if to spite you, your lover turned to face you and crossed his arms with a raised eyebrow. Your coworker pointing it out “See even he agrees!” The three of you talked (your beloved nodding or making gestures) as the morning went on slowly, dreading the rush hours and helping people out with directions if they needed it.

Everything was going great and shockingly calm until a swarm of people flooded into the room.

About 25 or 30 people ran up to the metal railing, sending the octopus reeling back in shock and swimming to hide behind a bolder nearby. You and Alex answered the questions you got about the tank’s inhabitant and occasionally checking in on Scaramouche to make sure he was okay. This went well until I very angry mother stormed up you specifically and started screaming at you. “Make him come out!” You flinched at the volume and backed up “Excuse me?”

“Get that thing out so my kid can see him! He’s not doing anything so get him out into the open!” You turned to Alex who gave you a look if you needed help but you shook your head, focusing your attention back on the karen. “I’m sorry but Scaramouche is a cecaelia, not a thing, and second he isn’t fond of crowds so I’m forcing him to out.” What you said only seemed to anger her more and she got face to face with you. “I’ve seen others use cattle prods on him to get him out but you’re telling me there’s nothing you can do?!”

You nod firmly and stand your ground. In no way were you going to hurt Scaramouche even before you knew him or got into a relationship. You would never hurt an animal or any creature. “No, ma’am-” “MA’AM” Interrupting her again you continued, “I refuse to use those things. Now, do I need to call security?” The room was quiet before a loud slap could be heard and you felt her palm hit your face, an audible gasp fall over the crowd and they all stood in silence for a slip second before movement could be heard behind you. Scaramouche who’d been watching (and hearing) the whole ordeal closely and already pissed at this vile woman for yelling at you didn’t bother to control himself when he acted automatically upon seeing you get slapped.

Swimming as fast as possible behind you and flaring his lower half to make himself look bigger than he already was, his tentacles spread out and pressed against the glass. The hybrid would’ve beaten your assaulter had the glass not been in his way and inches thick. His fist banged on the glass to get her attention and gave her a death stare, surely given off how infuriated she’d made him. The woman was to scared to speak, fear overtaking her expression and shaking where she stood. Good. She knew she made a grave mistake and he sharpened his glare, baring his teeth and slamming his fist against the glass. “Run.” Even if he couldn’t be heard, the message was clear. The disgusting trash took of running, her child who apologised profusely to you yelling insults at their mother.

Scaramouche’s eyes remained on yours as he watched and heard several things happen. Alex called security and told them what happened (also to ban the woman specifically from the aquarium and not her kid). Concerned parents and kids asking if you were alright, something his heart warmed at. ‘Maybe not all humans were cruel’ He thought, you and two others from his past were evidence it was true. Finally gaining your attention and hearing you whisper into the radio. “I’m alright, Scara. It doesn’t hurt much, just stings.” Reluctantly, he nodded and stayed at the front of the glass in case something else happened, using his scary and fierce reactions to his advantage if any issues occured.

You could see the concern on his face and breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t retreat back to the bolder, not that you expected to after that. He could indeed be terrifying when he wanted to be, seeing the speed he moved at from the corner of your eye and how intimidatingly big he made himself seem in response. A response your heart couldn’t help but leap at the protection he gave you even from the other side of a thick transparent wall. “Thank you.” Alex had checked back and examined your cheek after coming back from dealing with the woman. “Are you okay? That’s a stupid question- you just got slapped. She’s gone and not coming back ever.” Their gaze flickered over to the guarded cecaelia still right behind their coworker.

“Thank you, Scaramouche. You’re getting a special dinner for that.” He nodded and glared off to where the woman left, seemingly still peeved at her. “Hey, she’s not coming back she’s banned. You did a good job scaring her off.” These words were all it took for him to calm down at least visibly and turn his attention back to you, lifting a tendril to the glass next to you. Things calmed down and the crowd spoke their apologies incase they had help instigate altercation. A small voice made themselves known as they politely asked others to move aside and stepped up to the railing so they were standing on the lowest rung. “Excuse me? I hope you’re okay! That woman is a nasty meanie. Klee drew this for mister Scaramouche since he reminds me of a prince.”

A small girl maybe 7 or 8 years old with blond hair pulled into pigtails and fiery ruby red eyes handed you a paper depicting a kid’s drawing of the mythical being. He was frowning but wearing a simply drawn crown standing in front of a castle under the ocean, it was clear she took pride in it. You smiled at her and turned partially to show the muse of her art. “Hey, Scara. Klee drew this for you, you like it?” Scaramouche skeptically looked at the drawing and nodded whilst mumbling something that you could guess was a half hearted compliment. You could see the flustered expression on his face as he tried to not show how much he liked it and turned back to Klee to give her art back to her. “Oh. I want him to keep it. I have tons of drawing at home just like that. Thank you Mx Name!”

She waved goodbye to you and Scaramouche who also waved back with a smirk now realizing how many people probably thought the same (not like they could compete with his new favorite kid). “Mommy! The pretty octopus boy liked my picture! I can’t wait to tell big brother Albedo!” “I saw, mama’s so proud. I got a picture you can show him.” You watched as the blond pair walked off to another room, one practically bouncing off the walls and the other calmly intertwining her hands. The day went on significantly more smoothly and nothing else major happened, your lover hadn’t left your side for one second as the day eventually ended and your coworker said goodbye as their shift ended.

It was around closing time when you were preparing dinner for Scaramouche and chatting while he was lounging on the sunken platform. “I’m telling you the plan will go smoothly so stop worrying about. I see your stupid mind whirling away like diver lost in an underwater cave.” You continued to cut the slices of different fish onto a plate with some greens and freshly washed vegetables, taking what he said to heart and hoping it would all go according to plan. “Are you sure you want to leave? I don’t know if you’ll be able to go outside what with people knowing what you look like-”

“After what happened today?! You only got hurt because of me and the crowd I was drawing so that should answer your question. It isn’t the first worthless humans treated you rudely either. Why would I want to go out when you’re all I need?” You reminded him that you’ll still need to work and probably more hours since you’d now be providing for two people to which he countered that he’d get a job after retrieving his identification files. “You’re what now?!” He looked at you like you had two heads and laughed. “What do you think I don’t exist? I have a birth certificate and everything…granted they’re mostly fake but they do work.”

Clearly you were stunned and had several questions but guessed you wouldn’t get an answer out him. “You gonna tell me?” Scaramouche shook his head and grinned smugly, resting his head against his palm. “In time, but firstly dinner then get another set of clothes around your size. After pull your car around the closest back exit and turn off the power. No one should be here anyone since it’s sunday and everyone went home early.” Agreeing you set his dinner down before getting a extra pair of clothes (for who? you couldn’t figure out) and grabbed your bag and keys, heading out to your car. You pulled into the back entrance where the animals usually get transported into the facility and began to lock up all the door, going off your mental checklist when you normally closed.

Heading the main power switch, you took a hold of it and turned it off. Switching on your phone light and running towards Scaramouche, you skipped steps to get to the top faster and went to call out to him only to stop short. There before you was your lover dressed in the employee clothes you left him with but on two legs instead of his octopus half with all eight tentacles. “How-” He ran or rather tried to but ended up wobbling towards you and nearly falling to the ground. “There’s no time to explain. Help me, I haven’t been in this form for a long time.” You did as you were told and slung an arm over your shoulder, carefully walking down the steps and helping him stand like you would with someone relearning how to walk after an accident. Even after turning the power on you’d have a around 15 minutes before they were active again and that was all you needed.

“Turn the power back on. It’s the big green button at the top. I would do it but I’m holding you.” Scaramouche pushed it and the light flickered back on, trying his best to walk after years of not using his legs. You finally got to your car after a minute of reaching the transport bay and got him into the passenger's seat, closing the door and running over to the drivers side. The car turned on and you swiftly drove out of there, telling siri to set a reminder to text your boss that you’d be taking a few days off because of a sudden family emergency and the incident that happened today. The sound of the radio and running engine filling your ears, looking briefly over to your companion who seemed enamored with the sights passing your car.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen the outside. Thank you, Name.” The light ahead of you turned red and you stopped which gave you time to turn your attention back to him. “Scara. Explaination. Now!” He rolled his eyes and continued to look out the window, speaking after a couple seconds seemingly in thought. “I’ve always had the ability to grow legs but as you can see some of my scales remain visible. They could just be attributed to makeup or a tattoo but they’re still there.” His head turned so you could see the lavender scales like marks on the corner of his cheeks and collar bones when he unbutton the top of his shirt. They did look like he could pass them off as not being real. “But if you could escape before. Why did you wait that long? You had plenty of chances before.”

He took in a breath carefully and kept his gaze on the now passing environment as you started driving again, look at you. “I met you. I was going to leave, I had a plan and everything but then you wormed your way into my heart and made me care. So, I stayed and put up with it all, waiting for the chance to maybe get out with you.” Scaramouche’s small speech left you stunned in silence and honored that you’d left such an impression, muttering a grateful response and remaining silent as you returned home. You lived in a relatively small area but not in the middle of nowhere and only 20 minutes from the aquarium just at the entrance to a small wooded area but off the coast near the ocean.

A large river that connected to the ocean flowed next your cottage down the hill which you figured could be a good place if Scaramouche ever wanted to relax in his octopus form or swim with you in the warmer days. It was roughly 25 feet deep and was mainly saltwater with little freshwater home to some birds and small sea life. The trees surrounding your home kept you sheltered from major storms while still allowing a great view for lightning over the sea. You pulled into the driveway and got out with your bag, moving to help the now humanish cecaelia who you guessed had been flexing his muscles as he was now roughly standing with his on your car. “Let’s get inside, I can cook dinner while you can into more comfortable clothes.”

Your home was more comfy than Scaramouche would’ve guessed with fluffy blankets covering part of a leather brown couch and brick fireplace neatly cleaned of ash. Pictures decorated the wall of your friends and family he surmised and rustic decor could be found all around your living room, following you to your bedroom after he wiped his feet and being handed some soft loungewear. “Here you can change into that and I’ll cook some dinner. Feel free to wander about.” Leaving him to change, you grabbed a set of sweatpants and sweatshirt to change into in the bathroom. You mulled over your thoughts after everything that had happened today, how your life had changed significantly and hopefully for the better.

The warm cotton fabric acted as a comforting shield from the cold air seeping in through the window and tickling your ear as if to whisper your unconscious thoughts to you even if you couldn’t understand them. DING! A notification from your phone brought you out of your thoughts and brought you back to the present, slipping your hand into your fleece pocket to retrieve your phone. It was the reminder you set when you both were in the car to text your boss and coworker, heading out of the bathroom and to the kitchen to make some quick dinner. You texted your boss and coworker the same thing, how you would be taking a few days off because of “family emergencies” and your mental health. Which wasn’t entirely false but a little white lie couldn’t hurt.

“It’d take too long to fully cook something and ordering take is expensive so it looks like I’ll just throw a frozen pizza in the oven for tonight. I can go shopping tomorrow,” Opening the freezer drawn and grabbing a recently bought frozen flatbread with your favorite toppings. It was supposed to be a treat for a self care night but this could count as such too. You set the oven to the correct temperature and put the pizza in so it would cook as the machine preheated. “Hey Siri, set a timer for 15 minutes.” The AI did as it was told and you went to call out to your new roommate and lover only to see he was leaning on the jamb of the doorway. In his hands was the rest of his long hair and scissors, where the ponytail began now roughly cut off so it formed almost a wolf cut.

Scaramouche walked over and put the scissors down, “Like my new look? I figure it’d be easier to take care of and I’ve been wanting to cut for a while. Where is your trash?” You pointed to your garbage can camouflaged like all the other drawers and continued to stare. “Are you sure? I mean you look great but-” The short haired man nodded and tossed the length of hair in the trash shutting the lid before falling into your embrace. Nuzzling his head into your neck and placing small kisses, taking your hands in his and leading them up to the sides of his face. You wove your fingers through the violet hair, untangling any knots and sighing deeply to rid of your anxious worries.

“What’s wrong?” It was obvious something was bothering you and he couldn’t blame you. Your life had changed so much in the past 24 hours and you had still yet to adjust to it; he’d do his best to be a constant variable. “I- I’m just worried about everything. What if you get caught? What if this is only temporary?” Silence hung in the air as you both waited for an answer, the fear of their unknown future looming over you like a remind of the big decision you’d made. His grip on your got tighter and he rested his forehead against yours, kissing your lips softly. “If this is temporary then I’ll enjoy it till the moment it’s over. I won’t get caught, I’ve been wandering alone for a while before they caught me. I have experience on my side.”

That was a promise. He’d never let anyone take him from you, not after his friend was killed because of him and not after the little boy died in his arms. You were his new hope. A ball of light untouched by his past mistakes and he intended to keep it safe. Keep you safe. “Don’t worry, Name. This will all work out.” Unfurling himself from the hug and rubbing comforting circles with his thumb on your cheek, whispering affirmations and promises that no measly human could tear either of you apart. You felt better and relaxed, it was new territory which was always scary but you had Scaramouche with you. RING! RING! The timer on your phone went off and made you jump at the sudden noise, catching a small flinch from your significant other as well. “I made pizza for dinner. You can have some even though you already ate, Scara.”

The hybrid looked pleased and nodded, searching through all of your cabinets and drawers until he at last found the plates. Taking two out and grabbing a slice after you’d cut it, you could hear his quiet curses when he grabbed the hot pizza. “Be careful. It just came out, I don’t want to bandage you so soon.” You felt like you were reminding a child the basics of living and safety, assuming that it was probably years since he was last in a house with working appliances and you’d have to remind him until it became a habit for him. The hot marinara sauce hit your tongue as you bit into the pizza and perfectly cooked cheese pulling apart messily, using your finger to tug the long string of cheddar apart so it didn’t become a piece of spaghetti. At long last being able to eat something solid and filling felt like heaven after the exhausting hours of work, secretly eyeing Scaramouche to see if he liked it.

A satisfied hum came from him and he was focused on eating something that must’ve been a lot better after eating nothing but raw fish for meals. Plans had started forming in your mind for other delicious meals for him to enjoy and restaurants you could go on dates to. Once things settled down and you both could back to work, finding a job for Scaramouche and you going back to work, you both could enjoy the more fun things in life like going on dates and waking up together. You should take a bath after the stress of today and working among sea life would cause you to smell a bit salty or fishy, “I’m going to take a bath after this. It should only take-” “Can I join you?”

You swallowed the piece of food in your mouth and turned to him, “What!?” He shrugged and returned back to eating, continuing the talk to you, “I want to wash my hair and body after being in a saltwater tank for a few years. Can you blame me? Wait- are you embarrassed?” The flustered expression you was the only answer he needed and laughed at the sudden silence coming from you. “Fuck you totally are. What, it’s not like we haven’t seen each other naked or do I need to remind you how good I made you feel?” You stood up and washed your plate, deeming that you were full from dinner and putting the rest of the pizza into the over so it would stay warm. The hybrid’s laughter could be heard even after you went into the bathroom and turned the faucet on to your jacuzzi tub, something you’d spent a decent amount of money on because of nice it was to use.

“Damn fucking asshole. He’s too attractive for his own good and he knows it.” He knew how to push your buttons so you’d react accordingly and remain entertained based on your reactions, happily watching you squirm under his gaze. Grabbing some soap to make bubbles and testing the temperature of the water to make sure it wasn’t too hot or cold. You looked back to the door that was slightly ajar and undressed, putting your clothes on the counter and sighing joyously when you sunk into the warm water. “So much better.” Muttering to yourself and slipping underneath the surface to soak your hair. The door creaked open and your lover strolled casually in, blatantly admiring your figure through the light sheen of bubbles. “Shit. You really do things to me, beloved. I’m going to join you.”

You went to argue when he countered you never said no to him and allowed him to undress, averting your eyes with a light blush on your cheeks and gaining a response from the other. “Aw, you’re still so shy. Look at me. Look at me, Name.” Holding your face and moving so you had no choice but to see him bare before you. Unable to stop yourself from staring at his toned muscles and light scarring all over his body, your eyes traveling down to his v-line and hard erect cock. “Good baby. Hm, I can’t wait to fuck you so hard you only remember my name.” He got into the tub and relaxed his body, seemingly concentrating on something before you saw his lower half shifting and changing color. Below his waist his skin turned a dark violet and scales became more pronounced, an ink like dark cloud covered the water and nine tentacles formed where his legs used to be.

Some of them spilled over the tub and others lay floating on the surface, “Ah~ so much better. I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I had a hot bath.” He eyed you up and down, extending his arms opening and made a “come ’ere” motion. Soft cool tendrils circled your thighs and moved you to his lap, curling themselves around you. You hands made their way to the back of his hair and gripped it, playing with the messy cut strands and frowning a bit. “I miss your long hair, it looked pretty and I could’ve used it to pull you back into a kiss. Too bad it’s short know.” Absentmindedly playing with his hair until his hand was against yours, “You can still pull it see?”

His eyes daring you to pull at it and your fingers tightened around his roots, pulling lightly and getting an delightful moan. “Well maybe I should do that again.” You did it again and received the same reaction, his head was tilted back and mouth ajar with arms closing tighter and tighter around you. His tendrils crept towards your clit and breasts, all too eager to mark you up for all to see and know you’re his. “I’m going to breed you. I’m going to fuck you so much that you’ll be the parent to our kids. What do you say, huh?” Nodding slowly you kissed him and gasped when cold tentacles circled your clit and sucks teasing your most sensitive areas. Wetting your nipples and further fondling your pussy.

He broke the kiss and nipped your neck, licking the bruises he left and aiming to make more. Scaramouche wouldn’t be satisfied until your entire body was littered in hickeys and marks from his suckers. “Fuck me. Scara please fuck me.” You just wanted him to bury his cock inside your cunt and pounding away at your cervix. Anything besides the lack of friction being given to you right now. You’d beg. What you would give to be on your knees sucking his dick and being overstimulated till your knees gave out. “Since you asked so nicely pet. I won’t make you beg even though it’s very arousing and only strengthens my desire to make you cum your brains out.”

He lifted you up above his face and smirked, licking a stripe up your pussy and blew cool air against it. “Hm, maybe I should overstimulate you till you can’t orgasm. How about that?” Returning to kissing your wet cunt and thumbing off your arousal fluid, pressing the tip of his thumb on your bottom lip. You tongue poked out and tasting yourself in your mouth. Two of his tendrils snaked their way up your body and wrapped around your waist, the other one prodding your gaped puffy lips and pushing it way inside. “Mhm~” Going to move your arms but failing to and feeling two other tentacles binding your hand together, making you subject to your boyfriend’s will.

The tentacle occupying you mouth steadily moved back and forth, reaching the back of your throat and causing you to gag. You suppressed the urge to gag again and moaned when you felt him put pressure on your clit again. Rolling your hips to get more friction, crying out when you felt waves of pleasure wash over you and moaning with his tentacles in your mouth. Scaramouche groaned and laughed a bit, “Hm, you always do such a good job sucking on my cock. Fuck- Keep going, kitten~” Hollowing out your cheeks and running your tongue along the underside it and sucking the tip, briefly being interrupted by harsh thrusts of his tongue against your walls and unable to stop your eyes fluttering shut. You could feel your orgasm was close and kept bobbing your head up and down.

The knot in your abdomen tightening and tightening, your lewd noises getting louder and louder with the hybrid extending his tongue to reach the sweetest spots in your pussy. “Come on. Cum on my tongue and I might just fuck you till the morning sun shines through the window.” Diving back in and fitting his whole mouth around your sopping cunt, wishing that he could’ve done this much sooner had he known you tasted better than his favorite meal. He felt your walls squeeze around his tongue and knew you were getting close to orgasming, something he didn’t get to taste when he was in that “cage”. His finger dipped knuckle deep to furth egg you on and trigger your climax, countless dirty fantasies going through his minds.

“I should have fucked you on my cock right in front of the glass so everyone could see who you belong too. ngh~” That very idea aroused you, clenching the muscles in your legs and desperately trying to push yourself onto his tongue more. “Oh~ You like that? Maybe I should sit you on my dick whenever we go the beach and hide away in the shallow pools. Make to much noise and someone would see.” Muttering praises against your inner thighs and tightening his hold on your thighs, holding them so your couldn’t try to close them even if he head wasn’t in between them and gripping the plush fat of your ass. “But you’d like that wouldn’t you my slutty pet.”

You were sucking his cock so well and feeling him twitch in your mouth, struggling against the arms holding your wrists and thighs together. “Mhm- nghn-” Nodding as best you could while you gave him a blowjob and hearing his smugly laugh, moving at a faster pace. Both of you were close and you felt the knot snap when he bent his fingers, hitting your cervix and harshly sucking your clit. “Ahh~ Scara- ‘m gonna cum” You told him and loudly mewled, the vibrations from your moans lighting the cecaelia’s nerves on fire as it increased the euphoria his cock was getting. “Hm- I- ngh. So am I-” Working you through your orgasm and sinking his fingers into your pussy as you helped him through his own.

Hot white ropes of cum shot out from a slit you had been teasing on his tip and coated your tongue, swallowing it and panting heavily as it dribbled down your tongue. Your moans being heard louder as you became overstimulated and flexing your hands still bound. You looked down and saw Scaramouche lapping up your cum, slick covering his mouth and dripping down his chin. Shuttering when his thumb wiped the excess of his face and licked it up, humming in satisfaction. “Gods you taste divine. Was that fun kitten?” Very tired from your orgasm you shook your head and were lowered back onto his lap, guiding your head into the crook of his next and unbinding your hands so you could hug him. Affectionately pressing kisses on your shoulders and embracing his beloved lovingly, your arms wrapped around his neck and lazily pecking his neck.

Scaramouche pulled back and used two of his fingers to swipe up a bit of you cum from your labia, causing you to whimper slightly from the overstimulation still present and moaning softly. Spreading his fingers to show you the semi transparent fluid and resting them against your bottom lip. “Open up, beloved.” You let your mouth go slack and sucked him clean, tasting yourself as you curled your tongue around his slender pale fingers. A string of saliva connected his fingertips to your lips and broke when he kissed you sweetly, full of love and loyalty just like he’d promised you. His attention turned to you, curling his tendrils around your waist and smiled. “Can you make it one more round, pet? I’d love to feel my cock in your tight wet pussy but if you’re too spent I could always cuddle you into slumber-”

You eagerly responded yes and weakly leaned into him, pressing kisses up his neck and nipping in hopes to mark him so others wouldn’t steal him away from you. “No, I wanna feel your cock inside me. I want people to know that you’re mine but I’m so tired. You’re mine as I’m yours, love. Take me~” Continuing to press open mouthed smooches on his skin and feeling your boyfriend shift under you. The extra tentacles started to retract from below his hips and formed back into his two legs in his human form. Scaramouche taking your chin and tilting your head down to see his more human like dick, the pale girthy shaft with small veins leading up to his rosy mushroom tip twitching and desperate to be touched.

It was already leaking pre-cum and red from the overstimulating blow job you’d given him, “Are you just going to sit there slack jawed or do I have to do all the work myself?” His hand guided yours to his cock and you fingers curled around it, stroking it slowly and coating it in his pre-cum. “Don’t start getting arrogant now. I’ve haven’t touched you and you’re still sensitive~” He glared before smirking at you and rolled his cock against your slit. Kissing his chest and trailing up until you met his lips, rooting your other hand in his smooth violet hair. You lifted yourself with his help and sunk onto his cock. “Fuck. I should’ve done this a lot sooner. You feel so good clenching me- ngh-”

Slowly you rhymically moving up and down, breathing heavily and moaning whenever he bottomed out. Your slick making a white ring around the base of his cock and biting his neck. Feverishly kissing his jawline and rocking your hips in time with his thrusts. “Ah~ Just like that- Keep fucking yourself on my cock! I-” Scaramouche was interrupted when you grabbed his hand and brought it to your next, squeezing his hand in your own. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head when he tightened his grip and chuckled mockingly. “Well well, what a kinky little slut you are. Ngh-”

His dick kissed your cervix as he harshly pounded into your cunt and cut off your air supply. Checking in with you to make sure he wasn’t going to far and pecking your cheek softly when you signal you were alright. “Scara- aHah keep going! I’m close-” “Shit! Me too! ngh~ Guess you riled me up, beloved!” A breathy moan left your mouth and fell against his chest, scratching his back with your nails when the pace got even faster. Pistoning his cock deep into your pussy and feeling like it was splitting you in two. A second later his unoccupied hand crept down to your clit and pinched it sending painful overwhelming pleasure through you.

Your climax hit you like a ton of bricks and made your legs spasm, trembling thighs tensing and crying out in joy. “Cumming!” The hybrid felt your cunt contract around his cock and groaned loudly. “Cumming too!” Feeling warm spurts of his cum fill you and faltering when you both road out your high, collapsed against the rim of the tub. The water mellowed out and stopped splashing about as you panted to regain the lost energy. “Let’s actually get clean because we just dirtied the water” Scaramouche weakly laughed and hugged your closer, “I wouldn’t mind going for a round 3-”

He was cut off by your glare and quickly scooped you into his arms albeit stumbling a bit before getting out, putting you on the cool tile to refill the tub. “I’d say I marked you up quite well, now others will know who you belong to.” Lifting you so you could see your reflection and the countless hickeys and bite marks all over your body. You smiled and nodded, shakily tapping his arm to put you down and using the counter to keep yourself standing. Towels on your nearby shelf were used to dry yourself off and tossed one to Scaramouche He thanked you and wrapped the towel around his waist, grabbing your body and bringing closer to him once again. “Now let’s go to sleep because in morning you’re not leaving my side and I have to thank you for breaking me out~”

“Hm, sounds good.” My bedroom is-” Already out the door and on the way before you realized he knew where it was since you had shown it to him when you both came in. Leaning your head against his bare chest and stretching out when you’re laid down on the soft pale green comforter. You crawled under the covers and snuggled into the soft pillow, letting your muscles go soft and practically fusing yourself to the hybrid’s body. “You comfortable there?” You nonverbally hummed ‘yes’ and tried to embrace him, happy that he wrapped his arms around you. “Now go to sleep, beloved. I’ll be here in the morning.” “Goodnight.” Closing yours eyes and welcoming sleep with open arms, the warmth under the covers mixed with his body heat.

Your dreams consisted of memories from the day and fantasies of days yet to come, swimming deeper and deeper into the sea of your unconscious before the bright rays of the morning sun peaked in through the curtains. A soft groan came from the person beside you and pulled you closer, messily tangling the sheets around your legs which was already intertwined. RING! RING! You shot up briefly at the sudden loud noise coming from your phone and blindly reached your hand at your bedside table until you finally had the vibrating cell phone in your hand. Pressing the answer button and slowly bringing it to your ear, a loud automated voice quickly giving you a message from your workplace.

“Hello… Name. This is the Deepwater Cove Aquarium calling it’s employees to let them know they will have the following week off with paid leave due to a high security inhabitant breaking out and having gone missing. Tell no one about this and keep it within company staff to avoid a mass panic. If you have any questions or concerns please contact head of Human Resources Teresa Merrii. Thank you and goodbye.” ….well that answered the question in the back of your head and you guessed they didn’t have a clue you were behind it.

“Scara.” Shaking his shoulder and attempting to wake him up, only to receive a mumble and pulling at your torso for you to cuddle with him more. “Scaramouche! They know you escaped-” He opened his eyes just a tad and raised an eyebrow, “It was bound to happen eventually and besides they don’t think it’s you so come back to sleep with me.” The cecaelia had a point, you were also on paid leave which you hadn’t expected and might as well make the best of it. Checking your notifications for any major or important messages you should respond to while you were up and saw a text from your coworker telling you ‘I hope you and your family are alright! Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help and we need to talk about the week off from work because what if it’s Scaramouche?!’.

You’d have to give them your thanks, turning your phone off and getting back underneath the blankets, feeling the smooth bits of scales littering his chest and heat radiating off of him. It felt like you were sleeping next to a fire on a cold winter morning and you pulled the covers over your head. “Well, even if they try to find me, they can’t cause I’m free of that prison and at home with my mate-” THAT’S WHAT YOU BOTH WERE?! “We’re just dating scara-” His finger was pressed against your lips. “Yes, my mate. That’s what most cryptids, as you all like to call us, call our significant others and almost all of us mate for life.”

A second passed. You were fairly sure that he was going to live longer than you which didn’t bode well since he seemed very clingy and insistent on you being with him till death. “How long do you live?” Scaramouche pondered and hummed to himself, recalling all the years he’s been alive. “About 36, but “special” beings who are half immortal live about 150 years. Cecaelia fully mature at about 20 years.” Further explaining about how his kind usually took a mate at 30 or so and pinching you playfully when you laughed, commenting on how it fit that he was 6 years “late” on finding a soulmate. “I’m sorry but with your bitchy personality I can see why no one wanted to date you-” He interrupted you with a pinch on your cheek and scowled at your mockery. His arms wrapping even tighter around your torso and guiding you hand to touch a patch of scales on his cheekbone.

“Oh please, that incompetent mermanta ray Childe couldn’t find a partner and he probably hasn’t knowing him and his battle obsession.” Eyes flicked to the window that looked out onto the sea, seemingly where is (possibly?) friend lived and trying to imagine what kind of hybrid he could possibly be by yourself. The curiosity in you spilling over the edge of your mind and asking yourself if the fairytales you heard of mythical being was true. If half octopus people existed did that mean nagas, mermaids, fae, and kitsunes were real too. “What other mythical beings exist that you know of?” Scara rubbed comforting circles on your tummy as he thought back, “A fair amount of people but many of them are miserable to be around, but as far as the ocean goes I know a couple mermaids and selkies. Two of them are tolerable to be around and offer good conversations last I remember, their names are Kaveh and Kokomi I think.”

“Kaveh always bitches about his annoying merman of a roommate which is always amusing to hear. Of course there are other cecaelia but I haven’t met many others so I assume they live in deeper parts of the ocean.” Laughing to himself as he remembered the insults he’d hear from the selkie about how emotionless and arrogant Alhaitham was to live with. You scooched up so you were laying against his chest and pulled up a soft throw blanket over both of you, “Are mythics only in the ocean?” Lifting his hands from your body and playing with his fingers as he talked. “Haha don’t be silly. They’re all over the world. Some live in the skies and mountains like harpies, dracotaurs, and butterfly people. I know before your boss captured me there was news about a dracotaur named Zhongli and a harpy named Xiao who watched over a city near here almost like a guardian angel.”

The sun shone brighter and the wind picked up, whistling and causing branches to tap against the glass. Birds looked for worms in the ground to bring to their young and chittering to each other. “Hm, I wonder what he’s like?” His hand broke from your grasp and turned your chin so you looked at him, “I thought I was the only supernatural being that interested you?” You laughed and nodded, confirming he was. “You are but that doesn’t mean I can’t be curious. And butterfly people? Aren’t those just fairies?” Apparently not and you shouldn’t say that to a fae’s face because it could piss them off. You had heard stories from your grandparents about people who angered the fae. How travelers would knock on trees when going through the woods to check if the fae were hiding in trees and offer small gifts of flowers or shiny objects for safety when hiking in their territory, with the promise of being respectful.

In your younger years you had believed it, often giving small gifts of your own at the edge of the woods near your house and leaving notes with messages to them. You knew not to tell them your name or else bad things would happen to you and the possibilities of you getting dragged into the forest to never been seen from again only increased. “No, fae are very mischievous and playful. Most of the stories about tricks and fairy circles you’ve heard are true. Butterfly people are similar to fae but have butterfly wings and are much kinder, often helping out creatures of all kind including humans if anyone is in trouble or in need of a helping hand.” Letting your mind drift off into what you thought some of them would look like and your inner child hoping you could meet one one day.

“Just before I got kidnapped, I was washed up by a mangrove near some abandoned but fruitful orchards looking for help since a bad storm had caused me to sprain my wrist. What I thought was a butterfly at first turned out to be a tiny person who called herself Nahida and helped me with my injury.” He explained that butterfly person was the protector of the small kaleidoscope that was home to the ethereally lit forest and her official name was Kusanali. “She helped me identify what fruits were safe and ripe to eat and what herbs could be used for healing or nutrition. Nahida told me what she knew of the fae and that a certain fae prince was becoming quite well known for his artistry and experiments.” Scaramouche kissed your lips and nuzzled his nose against yours, revelling in the comfort and affection you were giving him.

Of course there were other supernatural creatures of the land like nagas and lamias, attractive people with the lower half of a snake with more serpent like features such as scales or forked tongues. Who often are sneaky and stereotyped as sadistic thanks to generalizations from Christianity’s view of snakes when in actuality a lot of them are well versed in healing and medicinal treatments for travelers or other mythics. One type of supernatural you were not so please to find out about were the driders, people with the lower half of a spider and actually very dangerous. “They’re just as cruel and sadistic as the tales say they are or at least that’s what I’ve heard. I don’t intend to find out and I’m hope you don’t either. Remember my home turf is water not land.” You laughed and shook your head, shivering at the thought of running from a being with eight legs and liquidated to be eaten.

“Yeah, that doesn’t seem pleasant to run into but if those are the only dangers in the forest then it seems fine-” He interrupted you and then chuckled, carding his fingers through your hair to work out the tangles that had gotten more apparent over night. You looked up and saw him still looking out the window but away from the sea front view. “Ever heard of werewolves? You’ve probably walked passed by more of them than you think thanks to their ability to remain human looking except during a full or new moon. They are very territorial and possessive of who or what they hold close to them which my kind are also prone to-” You cut him off with some laughter and lightly hit his chest, raising your eyebrow at him and reminding him of the incident involving the ‘Karen’ yesterday.

“Scara you nearly had to be held back when I was hit and any time another employee tries to make a mood on me within your sight even before you dragged me beneath the water-” A bright blush covered his cheeks and he averted his gaze from you, clearly trying to pretend like he didn’t remember it despite you reminding him. “I- It’s not my fault that you attract everyone else’s attention and I have to show them that you’re mine. At least I’m not as bad as the kitsunes! Gods…Those vixens are downright malicious if someone offends them or someone dear to them. My mother’s wife is a nasty example and I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s been stopped many times from striking me with lightning by my mother.”

This was the first you were hearing of his past in general and his mother, no one who found him could get any answer as to who his parents were or where his home was. “I’m plenty happy that you’re possessive and I appreciate you not killing people just for flirting with me.” Laughing towards the end of your sentence and carefully thinking through your words to find out more about his life. “I’m going to need you to be more tolerant now that you don’t have 4 inch glass separating you from the public whenever we’re outside. But you’ve never mentioned your mother before, what was your life before all of this,” You gestured vaguely to your house and around you both, “happened.

The cecaelia’s eyebrows furrowed and his mood got noticeably somber. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, “If it’s something you don’t want to talk about then I understand but I’m here. I know what it’s like to not like your past.” You kissed his cheek and rubbed comforting circles on his chest, letting him think it over and seeing him shake his head out of a deep thought. “No, it’s alright. I just have… mixed feelings toward my mother and it’s not a pretty story.” Scaramouche shifted so you were sitting up and side by side, his hand intertwining with yours and gratefully looking at you. The dark pools of pale purple overflowing with inner turmoil and deep seated unspoken emotions laying just beneath the surface.

“Well not only am I not human but my mother is a goddess, specifically a goddess of storms and lightning.” Eyeing you for a reaction to which you were stunned and gaped at your non-mortal lover, nodding slowly to let him continue. “My mother had a relationship with a human which resulted in me but I don’t know my father and I haven’t seen my mother since she abandoned me.” This was heartbreaking to hear. Why would any mother ever abandon their child? He was still, silence enveloped the room as he kept his eyes locked on the comforter balled up in his fists. Outside you could see the sky darkening, dark grey clouds gathered strangely with your knowledge that there wasn’t supposed to be rain this.

“That makes me a demigod in addition to my weird ass octopus half. I don’t think I have any abilities like my mother but my human emotions are linked to stormy weather which might explain the thunderstorm coming together outside.” Both of you were now focused on the growing anomaly, you looked to Scara and unwrapped his tightly wound fists. The muscles in his fingers still tense and slowly being relaxed thanks to your hand sliding its way into his. “I’m right here with you. I’m- I’m sorry you had to go through that but how did you manage living on your own at such a young age?”

A fond but sad expression painted over his face and he leaned his head on your shoulder, “I didn’t. I was found on a beach by a man named Niwa, someone who I considered my friend…my family. He was the one who showed me how to live and grow up while trying his best to find answers for both of us as why what I was.” Apparently, when he was a child, Niwa took them both to the library to search as to who Scara’s parents were but were stunned to find his mother’s name belonged to a local goddess. While he told the story, a flurry of emotions crossed his mind upon digging into memories he thought he had put away permanently.

“At first we thought it must have been a mistake but Niwa spotted a symbol marked on my skin behind my neck,” Turning his back to you and lifting his hair to let you view a black triple right tomoe. Black ink filled the shape and bent when you ran your fingers over it, noticing the shiver your lover tried to suppress. It looked like a tattoo freshly healed but there was something not natural about it like the scales that littered his skin. “along with the scales, it was clear that I wasn’t human….but he didn’t look at me differently. He wasn’t disgusted or fearful that he was living with a demigod and helped me discover more about who I was but…”

Tears pricked his eyes and threatened to fall, indicating hesitation and what you could tell was a emotionally traumatizing moment back then. You wished you could have done more but the best you could do is be by his side and comfort him the best way possible. “but there- there was one question he couldn’t answer even though he tried. Why did my mother abandoned me? Clearly she knew about my existence since she put me to sleep on a beach but-” The damn broke as streaks of tears fell down his cheeks, quiet sobs loudened as he tried to muffle them and latched onto you when you brought him into your arms. The tight grip Scaramouche had hurt your heart, no one deserved to go through this and you had some choice words in your head for his mother.

There were several better ways to set him free without the lack of communication or possibility of harm. You were glad that someone like Niwa was there for him while all this self discovery was going on, you’d have to thank him if he ever introduced you two. “Scara-” “Kuni. My name is Kunikuzushi. You- you deserve to know.” With the look he was giving you, you had no doubt that this meant a great deal to him and clearly had gained his trust with your help and kindness. Tears still streamed down his face but they had stopped a bit thanks to your comfort. “Kuni. I’m so glad you had Niwa with you. How come he didn’t help you when you got captured?”

There was silence for a couple minutes then he started quietly crying harder burying his head into your neck and mumbled words you couldn’t understand. Carding your hand through his hair and cooing softly, “It’s alright. You’re safe. You’re with me safe and sound.” After gathering himself he kissed your lips and brokenly smiled. “T-thank you. Niwa-” Kuni stuttered and took a deep breath while thunder shook the house. “Niwa was killed by a self proclaimed doctor called Dottore who hunts the supernatural and dissect them. He used Niwa to get to me after seeing bits of my scales You would have gotten along, he was kind and determined like you.” He paused briefly between words to sniffle and then embraced you again, seeing lightning shatter the sky which reminded him to take a breath.

“He helped me with these pathetic human emotions that plagued me. I thought my mother tossed aside because of my disgusting human half and tried to get rid of my mortal part…. to no success.” To say you were stunned was an understatement. To think in addition to all the torture he’d endured at the aquarium he had tried to kill himself in order to get to his mom. You didn’t notice tears that fell from your eyes and landed on his warm bare chest. His thumb brushed your cheek and wiped them away, whispering apologies that he didn’t need to say at all. “I know, I’m not going to say I regret it because I don’t but you and Niwa changed my mind about humans.”

You sadly laughed and kissed him, “I’m glad you’re here. You made my life brighter and I love you dearly. However, how did you come to live in the ocean?” He wiped his eyes and dried his tears, looking down at the lavender scales decorating his skin. “When I tried to drown myself, something different happened my legs split into 8 and my pale purple scales darkened from my waist down.”

“My ears grew webbed and more fish like, entirely below my waist I looked like an octopus from the hips down but I could move through the water faster than I ever could before-” He stopped and look to you, winds calming down and a genuine happy expression took over his face. “I was free. Free to do what I wanted and be free from the pain of loss…so I shut out the world until I met you.” He whispered, almost in disbelief and awe upon reflecting into his past. Time seemed to stop as he moved closer and cupped your face, rubbing his nose against yours affectionately.

Kuni slowly kissed your lips and slowly pulled away for air begrudgingly, still resting his forehead against yours and closing his eyes. A comfortable silence fell between you two. So many emotions poured out and no doubt you could sleep for another couples of hours given it was only 9 in the morning. You kissed his lips sweetly before pulling your boyfriend back under the covers and slurring your words out of fatigue. “I love kissin’ you but sleep is a definite tie. Come cuddle me, Kuni~”

There was little hesitation as he wrapped his arms around you and tangled his legs with yours, taking the small spoon position. Sleep tugged at the corners of your mind but before you succumbed to it you whispered something you’d been holding in for a bit. “You and ursula would get along very well.” You practically felt the annoyed tick mark appear on his face with even having to see it and struggled to hold in your laughter. “Who the fuck is this Ursula bitch?!”

Genshin cryptids

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kunikuzushi #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer #wanderer x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x you #genshin cryptid AU

[pedrostylez]

Missed You

pairing: Javierxfem!reader

summary: this is literally just smut. I don't know what else to say. Is it a drabble? A one-shot? idk. Very little editing done, so sorry about that. It is based on this gif and this shirt specifically, I couldn't stop thinking about the color of it even though I only mention it once in this thing. Anyways, enjoy!

rating: 18+ (no minors please)

word count: 1.1k

warnings etc: smut, dirty talk, light choking, come play, unprotected p in v sex, pet names, established relationship. NO USE OF Y/N.

“I’ll take you right here if you don’t stop teasing me cariño.” He growls, hand sliding down your jaw to lightly grip at your neck. Your pulse speeds up under his thumb, a smirk of satisfaction gracing his lips. “Unless that’s exactly what you want.”

You bite your lip to hold back a moan, willingly tilting your head back so he could lean down and press his lips to your heated skin. His own breath is coming heavily, fanning over your face and jaw, swirling around your ear to tickle you. 

His shirt is spotted with sweat, dark blue around his collar and down the buttons where his sunglasses currently lay. “Did you run home?” You giggle out, fingers brushing against his glasses and removing them from his shirt. 

He smiles against your skin, hand squeezing lightly around your neck. “You’re asking for trouble.” He mumbles, nipping at you to hear you finally let out a breathless moan. “Had to hurry home to see you.” His fingers release your neck and skim down the front of your shirt to the hem. “Wanted you wrapped around me.” 

“I told you I would be home this evening.” You sigh, closing your eyes while he pushes you backwards towards the bedroom. His fingers quickly lift your shirt over your chest, hands leaving a hot path up your front to squeeze. 

“That’s why I ran here when you said you were early.” Javier mumbles, mouth now around one peaked nipple and sucking generously. His ears heat at the sound of your moan, your hands reaching behind you to the dresser. It shakes briefly, your necklace stand falling to the floor with a soft thud. He pops off your chest briefly to flick his eyes up to yours. “Couldn’t wait for the end of the day.”

You laugh, reaching down to the hem of your shirt to fully take it off while he is busy. You wanted him just as desperately, but the idea of Javier running through the streets of Columbia to your apartment rather than to chase someone that knew Escobar, didn’t make sense to you. “I would have cooked you dinner, you know.” You say gently, letting your fingers filter through his hair. A quick tug to get him to come up to your face has him smiling. 

Javier kisses up your neck to meet your eyes, letting his hands drift away from you briefly to take himself out of his jeans. “You still can if you want to, hermosa. But I need you right now.” He feels breathless, insatiable at the sight of you. “Be a good girl for me and turn around.”

“Must not miss me that much if you don’t even want to look at me.” You say as seriously as you can, although he knows you’re being sarcastic. He gives you a shocking smack on your ass when you don’t turn around quickly enough, skirt being lifted as he bends over to kiss as the base of your spine. 

“Need to feel you.” He growls, fingers sliding to your slit and feeling just how wet you are for him. “You need to feel me too, apparently.” He laughs, adjusting his stance behind you to let the head of his cock sit at your entrance. 

He stands there for a moment, looking down at your center so close to his and waits. His hands squeeze around your hips before one reaches up to the front of your neck and arches you back towards him. You moan, trying to push back on to him. “Baby, please-”

He tuts at you, biting your ear quickly before smiling. “Ask nicely.” He says, glancing to the mirror that is on your dresser to look at you. He looks feral, even to himself, with his shirt half open and jeans down to his upper thigh. His arm bulges with his grip around your neck, waiting as patiently as he can stand it. 

You only wait a few seconds before becoming a begging mess. “Please, Javier. I missed you, please–” You squirm towards him, letting his grip tighten around you so that he can guide himself into you. 

He slides in to your weeping center with one fluid motion, pausing at the hilt to let you adjust. “That wasn’t so hard was it baby? So pretty when you beg for me.” He growls, listening for your breath to slow down before sliding back out again. He sets a brutal rhythm, the button of his jeans and buckle on his belt slapping against the back of your thighs. 

You want to reach for him, but you’re not convinced that you will have the balance, so you grip on to the wood in front of you harder. Your knuckles go white as his hand around your neck loosens, reaching to your hip to hold you steady. You groan at the ability to drop your head down and make eye contact in the mirror with him. “Fuck, Javi.” You whine, biting at your lip. 

He feels out of control, ready to come at any second. “Cariño–baby.” He groans, continuing his pace even though its making him reach the finish line. “Fuck, if you keep squeezing me like that I’m goin’ to come.” 

You manage a smile, pushing yourself back against him as an answer. You continue to watch him in the mirror, his jaw dropping open, his hands squeezing tightly around your hips. His movements don’t stop, his eyes glazing over in pleasure as he calls out for you. “So fucking good–fuck–”

When he has pushed out the last of his own orgasm, he pulls out and immediately drops to his knees, not bothering to pull up his pants and adjust himself. His hands stay on your hips, moving to each cheek of your ass and spreading you before pushing his tongue out to your clit. 

You inhale sharply in surprise, looking over your shoulder down at him. His eyes are wide, watching your reaction as he moves his tongue expertly over you. He groans when his tongue tastes himself and you mixed together, gliding it to your center and fucking you with his tongue. 

It’s not hard to come on his face when he starts doing that, alternating between your hole and your clit, groaning out vibrations that causing you to break. Your knees go weak and he has to physically hold you up while continue to eat you out, eyes closing in bliss at the sound of you. 

When you finally come to, Javier’s fingers are lightly running circles on the part of your legs that have marks from his jeans. “Sorry sweetheart, couldn’t help myself.” He mumbles out before adjusting your skirt to fall back into place. 

He leans down to pick up your shirt, letting you turn back around to face him. “That’s okay, Javier. I missed you too.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #agent pena fanfiction #javier pena x reader smut #javier pena fanfic #javier pena fic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena smut

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Monsters in the Garden (Ettore x Reader) 18+

No one comes to your garden but you, not even Dr. Dibs. So what is the most dangerous man on the ship doing leaning against your doorway and watching you work?

Pairing: Ettore x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT SMUT; hand job; kissing; blood; mentions of rape, murder, and violence; female genital mutilation; vague mentions of corpse mutilation

Author's note: This was inspired by a session I had with the Ettore AI made by @harrenhalhottie (RIP). It was just so good I had to write it out for y'all. This Ettore is a little different from normal, but I can't help but look at a one-dimensional character and want more. Hope you enjoy, and let me know if you want a Part 2, because I have ideas...

This song also heavily influenced the vibe:

Taglist: @thelittleswanao3

Monsters in the Garden

You were on your knees, leaning over one of your raised garden beds when you noticed him leaning against the open doorway. He wasn’t quiet on his approach – he wanted you to know he was there.

Ettore was always there, in some dark corner, watching you.

By this point, you were almost used to the burning feeling that crawled beneath your skin whenever his eyes were on you.

In the right light, those eyes were a mesmerizing blue. The color reminded you of the sky back on Earth. If he hadn’t been so goddamn creepy, you might have been happy to stare into his eyes just to remember home, even briefly.

But he was easily the most unsettling person you’d ever met. Always leering at the other women on board – though in the past weeks, you had apparently become his one and only target– and using the Box proudly, far more than anyone else did.

It was no wonder why. You knew what he was.

Everyone on board was a killer, including you. But Ettore was the worst. The most dangerous of you all. For he was the only one who had… done worse than just kill his victims.

Murderer. Rapist. Monster.

Well, some would say what you had done was worse. But that was different. Your victim was already dead by the time you started your work on his corpse, and it had been more than deserved.

You did not let yourself linger on that. You never did these days. The further away from Earth you got, the more distant it seemed. The rage, the guilt, all of it.

Ettore wasn’t distant. He was mere feet away from you, intruding on your garden.

Not yours, not really. Because of your past – specifically, the degree in horticulture you were only one semester away from completing when you were arrested – you were assigned to look after the gardens instead of something more related to the actual mission of the ship like the rest of the crew.

Or more basic, in Ettore’s case. Dr. Dib’s called his assignment “ship maintenance,” but you all knew what he really was: the janitor.

But he never came in here. You made sure of it, keeping everything meticulously clean and fixing all your equipment yourself so no one – least of all Ettore – would ever have a reason to intrude on your space.

You didn’t even allow Tcherny, the other gardener, in here. He was fine with it. He preferred the vegetable and grains and left the medicinal plants – kept in their own room – to you. The only person beside you who ever came in here was Dr. Dibs, and she hadn’t been here in months. She didn’t like the dirt.

Yet there was Ettore, just staring at you.

His eyes weren’t that beautiful, bright blue you so rarely glimpsed. His chin was slightly tucked into his chest, his strong brow casting his eyes into darkness. His face was blank, unfeeling, and unmoving, save for those eyes.

They almost didn’t look human, but animal. Yes, that was the look of a predator. And it was directed at you.

You turned away from him to face the garden bed again, hoping he would lose interest if you didn’t engage. But if he didn’t, and he did try something…

Well, you had your spade next to you. It was probably sharp enough to dissuade him from doing anything you didn’t approve of.

So, you resumed your work, carefully tending to your poppies.

Once the lovely purple-pink petals that were just unfurling fell in a few days, you would harvest the sap from the seedpods so Dr. Dibs could synthesize more of the sedative the crew was forced to take each night. Only a handful, carefully selected by you, would be spared and allowed to produce the seeds that would become the next crop.

Though you hated playing a part in producing the drugs, the poppies were still your favorite plant. They were the only flowers you had left.

The garden was always your happy place, even on Earth, and you quickly found yourself concentrating not on Ettore or the sounds of the ship or even the ship itself. There was only you, the dirt, and your beloved plants.

So, when you finally stood and looked away from your work, you had entirely forgotten that Ettore stood there.

Still, he remained leaning against the doorframe, watching you. He hadn’t moved a fucking inch.

You jumped slightly at the unexpected sight, your hand flying to your racing heart.

While he did not flinch at the motion, Ettore’s brow raised slightly, and the corner of his mouth quirked up.

At least the hunger in his eyes had abated. Somewhat.

“Didn’t mean to startle you, love,” he crooned as he uncrossed his arms and took two steps forward.

God, you had never heard him speak before.

His voice wasn’t particularly deep, but it was low and smooth. His accent was like something out of those British action movies a boyfriend in high school loved to make you watch. Perhaps it was those memories – of either the boyfriend or the handsome actors, that made his voice sound almost alluring.

It had to be. It couldn’t be him.

You instinctively stepped back, raising your hands to try and communicate that you didn’t want him near you. Unfortunately, you forgot your spade on the ground, leaving your hands empty. Fortunately, your gloves were loose enough that he could not see the slight trembling in your fingers.

“I just…” you stammered. “I forgot you were there.”

He just stared at you impassively, those predatory eyes taking in every detail of your face, then traveling lower and lower.

Some of the hunger returned when his gaze landed on your breasts.

You had to shut that shit down.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, pouring all your contempt into your voice to mask the fear that still crept within your blood.

Ettore looked back at your eyes, the corner of his lip flicking up as though he was holding back a sneer. “Just passing through.”

You risked looking away from him to glance at your watch. It confirmed what you already knew. “You’ve been standing there for over an hour,” you informed him. One hour and eighteen minutes, to be exact. “Hardly what I’d call ‘passing through.’”

He raised his brows slightly, apparently surprised it had been that long. “Guess I lost track of time. Watching you is…” he turned his eyes, not to your body, but to the flower bed you had just been working in. When he looked back, he gave a sly smile. “Relaxing.”

Bullshit, you thought. But then you bit back the sharp tang of your own cynicism. Gardening was relaxing to you; it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility that he honestly found watching you relaxing as well. If it had been anyone but Ettore, you probably would have believed them without a moment of doubt.

But it was Ettore.

Murderer. Rapist. Monster.

You glared at him for a long moment, trying to communicate that you wouldn’t be fucked with – you wouldn’t be a victim. Then, when he still didn’t drop his gaze from yours, you took it as an acknowledgment of the threat and turned away from him.

You were at least half-expecting him to pounce on you then and there, but he didn’t. You didn’t hear a single sound as you walked to your workbench, situated on the opposite wall from the door, and took off your gloves.

“There’s nothing more to watch,” you said over your shoulder. Then, grabbing a clean rag from one of the drawers, you began wiping the dirt from your forearms – rinsing it off in the sink would risk a clog, which would mean a visit from maintenance and Ettore. “I’m done for the day.”

He didn’t reply, only grunted his acknowledgment. He never moved as you continued to wrap up your work – cleaning your tools, sweeping the dirt that had made its way out of the beds, and washing your hands. Still just watching you.

At least it confirmed that it wasn’t the gardening he found ‘relaxing.’

Finally, you discarded your rags in the laundry bin. It would need to be taken out soon – it was ready today, but you were already running later than you wanted. In just ten minutes, you had an ‘appointment’ with Dr. Dibs, and you didn’t want to make her angry. Again. Doing so has become kind of a bad habit of yours.

So, you turned to face Ettore, who continued to stare at you as you stepped within a few feet of him. He stood a little taller at your approach, puffing his chest out as that near-rabid hunger took over his eyes once more.

Your stomach fluttered, and you told yourself it was only because you were nervous about whatever Dibs planned to do to you tonight.

But then the corner of his mouth quirked up, and your heart sank at the realization that it was because you – or rather, your traitorous, repressed body – found Ettore attractive.

Murderer. Rapist. Monster.

He would be just your type if you didn’t know why he was here. You had never been able to resist a good jawline, and his could cut fucking glass. And as you took another step closer, his height became just as enticing. You always told people you only liked tall men so they could reach things for you. But really, you just loved the feeling of having a big, strong man to protect you.

No one had looked at you like you needed protection in years. No, you were now what people needed protection from.

“Though she be but little she is fierce,” the lawyer had said when convincing the jury to not be put off by your size. A fitting quote, since Shakespeare himself had inspired some of the more gruesome details of your crime.

And now, you couldn’t help but take another step forward, then another. All along, savoring how far back you had to tilt your head to look into those beautiful blue eyes.

God, as he tilted his chin back as well, the bright lights of the garden set them blazingly bright and the bluest you’d ever seen them. They were even better than the sky back home…

You forced yourself to look away when you felt heat begin to pool between your thighs. Instead, you stared over his shoulder to the hall, trying not to snap when you heard him laugh slightly at your movement. Was the blush you felt visible?

“You’re in my way,” you said, your voice more of a whisper than you intended.

When his smirk faded, and his lips – very pretty lips, you realized – fell slightly open, you thought he would have some cutting remark. But he only stepped to the side to allow you through.

As you passed him, you were close enough to catch his scent. Everyone on the ship used the same soap, so how did he smell so different? Beneath the clinical smell you all carried, there was something deeper, more masculine.

You really needed to calm down before your appointment with Dibs. She knew you didn’t use the Box – not after that first time had failed to get you off, despite the engineering genius of the contraption – so seeing you this riled would lead to questions you didn’t want to answer.

Touching other inmates was against the rules. And even if this wasn’t touching… even thinking this way about another prisoner may incur her wrath.

So, you walked a more than respectable distance away from him before turning back. He was still half-in, half-out of the garden. But he wasn’t staring at you anymore, but rather at the poppies...

When was the last time he had seen a beautiful flower?

You glanced at your watch again. You barely had enough time to make it to the infirmary.

“I need to lock the door,” you said, drawing his gaze back to you.

His brow furrowed slightly as he glanced from you back to the door, then back to you again. He sucked his teeth as he looked at you in condescending disbelief. “You need to lock up flowers?”

“It’s protocol,” you answered. Perhaps your tone was a bit harsher than it needed to be, but you were both criminals - murderers. He could handle a little bitchiness. “And there’s more than just flowers in there.”

Ettore let out a laugh that was little more than a hard exhale, but the twinkle in those eyes told you that he was indeed amused. Then, crossing his arms, showing off the odd, triangular tattoo on his forearm, he stepped away from the door.

You would have to walk by him again to get to the door. Perhaps he was cleverer than you gave him credit for – if you had previously given him any credit at all.

If you weren’t so pressed for time, you might have stayed to tease him some more. This was surprisingly fun, even when you knew what he wanted from you and what he had done to get it from other women. You were just that bored.

And horny. You were very, very horny.

That would be what got you in trouble.

You scoffed, pushing past him to lock the door. It took all your effort to slip the key in as your fingers trembled at the feeling of him hovering over you, his breath hot on your neck as he stepped closer to you.

This shouldn’t make you horny. On the contrary, it should make you afraid. But still…

When the door finally locked, you spun around quickly, tucking the key between your fingers like a claw – something one of the college policemen once told you about.

But Ettore stepped back – once, twice. And then the was pressed against the wall opposite you. His stare was still hungry, and you could easily see how heavy his breathing had become, but he didn’t advance.

“I have to go,” you told him, unsure why you were doing it. It wasn’t like you needed his permission or even wanted it. “I have an appointment with Dibs.”

His eyes darkened then. Not with lust or animalistic hunger, but rage. It was almost… possessive?

It was gone as soon as it appeared, replaced by his usual empty stare. Still, you did not dare move, not after whatever it was you just saw.

“Can I…?” Ettore gritted his jaw and looked away, his hands balling into fists at his sides. You didn’t know if he was about to cry or kill you – and you didn’t know which would be worse. He still looked away from you as he continued, “Can I come here again tomorrow? Just to watch.”

You should immediately forbid it. It was wrong, it was a bad idea, and it was just fucking weird. But as the hour chimed on your watches, you realized you couldn’t leave when he looked so desperate, almost sad. And you definitely couldn’t say anything to make that horrible expression worse.

“Yeah,” you whispered. You turned as he looked back at you to shut off the alarm on your watch. Dr. Dibs would be pissed at you, of that, you were sure. At the moment, though, it didn’t seem to matter. Not when his eyes lit up again, not from any light, but with excitement. “If you have nothing better to do, I guess that’s fine.”

The corners of Ettore’s lips quirked up like he would smile, but he quickly corrected it and set his mouth in a straight line. He didn’t want you to know just how excited he was, but you did anyways – he wasn’t a great liar. Tipping his head in an attempt at indifference, he sniffed before speaking. “Yeah, wicked.”

You winced a little at his pathetic attempt to seem cool, but it faded quickly when your watch beeped again. This wasn’t an alarm or the chiming of the hour but a summons. If you didn’t obey it, you knew Dibs would happily use the stupid watch to deliver a steady stream of low-level electric shocks until you did.

She was just as much of a killer as the rest of you – worse than some, if the rumors were right. Why should she have such authority over the rest of you?

It was pointless to question it, and even the beginnings of the line of thought had ruined your mood. So much so that you didn’t say anything else to Ettore before turning away from him and stalking down the hall toward the infirmary.

After you had disappeared around the corner, Ettore took a deep breath, silently congratulating himself on handling that almost like a real person would. Then, he turned in the opposite direction as you. He was due to clean the canteen before dinner. But fuck that. He needed the Box – now.

-

Dibs had been pissed. Not only that you were late to your appointment, but that you were so obviously turned on when you got there. It wasn’t like you could hide it, not when she immediately ordered you into the stirrups and got a front-row seat to your weeping and flushed cunt.

“Have you been using the Box?” she asked, that sickeningly sweet smile plastered across her face.

You pursed your lips, looking away. “No.”

Her smile faded, and her eye twitched. “And yet here you are, practically dripping.” She reached for something on her tray, but you couldn’t see what. You had a pretty good guess, anyway. “Well, at least it makes my job easier.”

It had been anything but fucking ‘easy,’ you thought as you cradled your aching abdomen. Under the pretense that you were already wet enough, she had shoved her speculum into you hard and fast – and without lube.

If you thought her tests and procedures had been uncomfortable before… they were downright torturous yesterday. Especially since she conveniently ‘forgot’ to give you any numbing agents or sedatives. And definitely no painkillers.

Not even the sedative you were served with dinner had helped. For the first time since you boarded this godforsaken ship, you hadn’t slept.

Thankfully, you had little work to do in the garden besides waiting for the poppies to drop their petals. But you didn’t want to just wallow in your pain, so you decided to sit at the edge of the bed where your little willow tree resided.

It wasn’t growing very fast, likely because it didn’t have the room it needed or deserved. Still, you were happy with the progress it had made. When the ship first took off, it was little more than a bonsai. Now, it stood a good eight feet tall – the only plant you needed your step stool to tend.

In truth, it didn’t need much tending. Trees never do unless they are very young or something is wrong. But sitting next to it, examining the patterns in its long leaves and tracing lines up its trunk, was spectacularly soothing.

You had never considered harvesting anything from it. Not yet. It was too little still, and you didn’t want to risk damaging it permanently since you couldn’t simply order a new start. But as another pulse of pain surged through your stomach, you found yourself reaching for a lower branch.

All you needed was a small twig to chew on. It was an ancient Egyptian remedy, one that eventually led to the invention of Aspirin. And even if the sedative didn’t help, perhaps something more natural, something you had grown yourself, would.

You had just wrapped a hand around the branch when you felt a large hand close around your shoulder.

Instinct kicked in, and you whirled around, freeing yourself from your attacker’s grasp. Without processing who it was, you threw your arms out, shoving with all your might. “Get the fuck away from me!”

You only recognized Ettore after you had backed into the wall. He had also fallen on his ass and crawled backward on the floor – apparently, you were stronger than you thought. Any amusement at the fact died when you saw the anger burning in those eyes.

It was entirely possible that you just really fucked up.

But your adrenaline, from the pain and the scare he had just given you, was racing too hot and fast to let you consider that possibility.

“What are you doing?” you spat. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Ettore’s face grew even more furious, if that was even possible. His eyes burned as bright as any fire you had ever seen. It was beautiful and deadly. “You fucking… you said I could come watch you!”

Damn it, you did say that.

But it was before Dr. Dibs had been such a cunt.

And she had only done it because he got you horned up like you were a pathetic high schooler.

“Well, now I changed my fucking mind!” you shouted. If you could stand, you would have. Towering over him and just screaming your heart out would feel so good. But you hurt too much to even entertain the thought. “I don’t want you here – I don’t want you!”

Ettore shattered.

You watched it happen as your venomous words left your lips.

His face fell, his eyes began to water, and even his tattoos seemed to go dull.

At that moment, he was not Ettore, the murderer, rapist, and monster.

He was just a boy – the both of you were barely more than teenagers when you left Earth – and he was broken.

You broke him.

You looked on in horror as his trembling lips set into a hard line that echoed in his harsh brow, and the tears in his beautiful eyes faded to reveal a primal rage that chilled your blood.

There he was.

Murderer. Rapist. Monster.

Ettore stood slowly, like a tiger rising from its crouch upon realizing its prey has no escape – that it could play.

But then he looked away from you, sniffed, and moved for the door.

His leaving without doing anything to you should have made you feel overwhelming relief, but it did not. Instead, a great yawning pit of guilt and regret opened in your chest, hurting nearly as much as your wounded core.

You tried to call out to him, take your words back, and apologize, but all that came out was a short yelp of pain. This time, it was accompanied by wetness between your legs – and not the pleasant kind.

As you folded over, burying your face in your knees as you pulled them into your chest, Ettore paused halfway out the door.

He’d heard noises like that before. From other women in pain – pain that he caused. His lip twitched, and his head tilted out of his control, the movement more animal than human.

You were helpless and apparently wounded. This was his chance.

But as he turned to face you, he caught sight of the poppies you so lovingly tended to the day before. With the memory of your soft smile as you cupped a particularly pretty bloom, one that was a deeper pink than the others, he was able to pull back on the reins of that instinct.

Just slightly, but just enough.

“You hurt?” he asked, his voice strained.

You nodded into your legs and lifted your head without meeting his eyes. “I think… I think I’m bleeding.”

Ettore was frozen, his hands flexing, relaxing, and balling into fists as he tried to keep hold of those inner reins. If he was smart, he would leave. Go straight to the Box and fuck himself until this hateful urge was gone. If he was a good person, he would offer his help.

He was not smart. And he was most definitely not a good person.

But something about you and those goddamned poppies woke what little was left of his humanity and made him want to try.

So, he just stood there, staring at your helpless form as he fought a vicious war inside himself.

You watched him. Watched as his eyes flicked over every inch of your body with dizzying speed, as various parts of his body twitched and flexed. You’d never seen anything like it before, except…

The vague memory of a play you went to on a middle school field trip reemerges. Your whole grade was reading Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and it just happened to coincide with the local community theater’s production of the play.

It wasn’t a good play. Even at twelve, you could tell it was objectively bad. But the man who played Jekyll and Hyde was decent (one of your classmates told you he was their pediatrician), mainly when he performed the ‘transformation.’ You hadn’t been able to look away as he contorted; every movement was desperate, halting, and frantic.

Not unlike how Ettore moved as he watched you.

When he came out of the fog that had settled over his eyes, which Ettore would you get? Did he even have a Jekyll to his Hyde?

You knew you should take the opportunity of his distraction to run. The infirmary would be best, but it would mean seeing Dr. Dibs again. You had no desire to admit that you needed her help. The showers were also an option, but it would allow others to see you in a weakened state. You didn’t want to admit weakness. Besides, Dibs would hear about that as well.

So, even though you knew it was stupid, you decided to take the biggest risk of them all.

“Ettore…?” You called his name softly, unsure of the pronunciation. Whether it was right or wrong, he didn’t seem to mind. He locked eyes with you, and his nostril flared as though he really was a predator and could smell the blood you were now confident was leaking from you. “I need your help.”

His eyes widened slightly, and he looked like he would run from you. But beyond another twitch of his head, he did not move.

“Please?” you begged. You felt pathetic, but you kind of were, so you tried not to let it bother you too much. “I don’t think I can stand on my own.”

Ettore’s brows furrowed at that, and his lips went from a near-sneer to a determined frown. Then, with a lumbering gait, he approached you in only a few steps, holding a hand out in front of him for you to take.

You stared at his hand for a moment, admiring the elegant length of his fingers. And then you realized: he was shaking.

It was subtle, but it was there.

Tilting your head, you looked up at his face. Apart from the slight widening of his eyes, it was again set in passivity. But what was more peculiar than his trembling or his expression was the fact that he was steadfastly refusing to look at you.

Indeed, those blue eyes were set on the softly swaying leaves of your willow, tracking their movement like the tree would attack him if he looked away.

You were so used to his eyes on you. Was it wrong that you wanted it back?

Before you could ponder the answer, you raised an arm to take his hand. He squeezed your fingers painfully as he helped you onto your feet.

The pain surged again as you stood, causing your knees to buckle the second Ettore let go of your hand. You stumbled, falling against his chest.

It was no more than instinct that had him wrapping his long arms around your shoulders and waist to catch you. An instinct that his brain was yelling at him to abandon you and let you fall.

It was too dangerous to touch you, to feel your soft skin as his hand accidentally slipped into the side of your overalls – why the fuck were the sides so low when your shirt was so short?

At the sensation of your hot breath against the sensitive skin of his neck, he let out an involuntary groan as he tightened his grip on you.

He had to get away. Now. As fast as possible. He didn’t want to hurt you. He really didn’t. But his blood was singing with desire, more intoxicating than any liquor or drug. Keeping his fingers from digging into your flesh possessively was almost painful, and he was so, so hard.

The reins were slipping…

You felt it, his hard length pressed into your stomach as you brought your hands to his chest to steady yourself.

You should push him away again. Slap him. Yell at him. Kick him as hard as you could right on that hard, impressively long length.

But you did none of it.

“I need to get to my worktable,” you whispered, “there’s a medkit there. And…”

You looked into his eyes, watching them dilate even further as you finished your request. “I’ll need help getting out of my overalls.”

That blue you were so entranced by was all but gone. Ettore looked like a man possessed, his breathing heavy and heaving as he lowered his chin to look into your eyes.

There was no way he heard you correctly. You knew what he was, what he had done. And you were smart, so much smarter than him. Far too smart to ever ask someone like him to take off your clothes. Even if it were to help you with an injury – an injury he still couldn’t see.

But then your eyes squeezed shut, and you fell forward to bury your face in his shoulder as you moaned in pain.

And then…

Then your right hand moved up his chest to wrap around his neck. Not to choke or hurt, but just to hold.

He expected your hands to be rough from working in the garden all day, but they weren’t. No, your fingers were unfairly, unbearably soft as they swept across his bare skin, coming to rest against the tattoo on the side of his neck.

When was the last time anyone touched him like this – tenderly and without fear? It had been years, even before he was put on this doomed ship.

Ettore almost came just from that simple touch.

More intense than even the extraordinary pleasure was the feeling of near calm that washed over him. It soothed the pain he felt in every muscle and quieted the violent, primal urges roaring within his chest. They weren’t gone, but they were further away.

It made it easier to take the reins.

“The worktable…” he breathed as his grip on you relaxed slightly. He still held you firm enough to keep you standing, but you no longer worried you would bruise.

You pulled away slightly, noting the way he whimpered and winced like a scolded puppy as you slowly removed your hand from around his neck. “Yes.”

He nodded frantically, sniffing and taking a few deep breaths. As if he needed to prepare himself for the short walk to the table. Then, moving with a slowness that suggested the motion took all his concentration, he lowered his arm from your shoulders.

When Ettore turned to the worktable, even with his other arm still around your waist, you felt a rush of unwelcome cold. Even when you were still clothed and the garden was kept at a balmy temperature.

He walked slowly. Perhaps you would have thought it was out of concern for you and your pain, but you knew by now that this was hard for him.

Indeed, when he pulled away after you were leaned against the table, a faint sheen of sweat had broken out across his brow. His breathing was still rapid, and his eyes were glassy, as if he were several shots in.

“Ettore?” When he met your eyes again, you looked down at the buttons on your shoulders holding your overalls up. He followed your gaze and made a choking sound when he realized what you meant. “If I let go of the table, I think I’ll fall.”

It wasn’t just his hands shaking now, but all of him. So much so that you couldn’t tell whether he was nodding or just shaking that badly.

Either way, he reached for the first button on your left shoulder. It took him a few tries, but he got it done. The strap fell, and one side of the overalls slumped, revealing the tight white shirt beneath that left very little to the imagination.

Ettore growled.

What the fuck? Humans don’t growl. At least, you had never heard it.

And yet he did.

A flicker of fear started in your chest, and you chose to focus on that rather than the bloom of something else lower within you.

He began to reach a hand, tense and shaking, towards your breast. But inches away, you caught his wrist. You had to lean further against the table not to fall, but you weren’t letting go.

“The other button, please.” Though you spoke quietly, the command was clear.

You only released his arm when he looked into your eyes and confirmed with a twitch of his lip that he heard you. He clenched and unclenched his fist several times before finally going for the other button.

It took him even longer to get this one undone. But at least he didn’t growl again when the other half of the overall’s torso fell limp around your waist. His eyes did linger on your breasts, but you let it happen.

You had great tits. And he deserved a little reward for helping you, didn’t he?

So, you let him have a few seconds to just stare. As long as he didn’t try to touch again. Because you didn’t want that, right?

Ettore’s gaze fell further, to where the overalls were just barely hanging onto your waist. You said you were bleeding, but he still hadn’t seen it. So just where was your injury?

His cock twitched, and he was sure you could see it through the thin scrub pants he was forced to wear as he realized what would happen next. “You need ‘em all the way off, eh?” He hated how weak and shaky his voice sounded, but he supposed it was better than growling. You hadn’t reacted well to that. “Do you need me to…?”

“Yeah,” you affirmed. Of course, you knew you should say something about burying your spade in his chest if he tried anything. But the fact that he was asking, rather than just ripping the garment off, made you feel almost safe in having him do this. Almost.

You would feel even better about it if you couldn’t see his dick straining against his pants and twitching almost as much as he was.

C'est la vie, you supposed. Though that probably applied more to something trivial, like your school’s football team losing a game they should have won, than you being forced to ask a serial rapist and murderer to take off your pants. But close enough.

You shivered when he lowered his hands to your waist, causing him to pull back slightly. “It’s fine,” you assured him. “Keep going. I’m fine.”

Ettore nodded and fixed his eyes on the bottom drawer of the table as he took the thin fabric of the overalls between his fingers and started pulling them down. Really, he could have just nudged them, and they would have fallen to the floor. But he kept them in his grip as he lowered himself into a kneeling position.

He never once looked at you. Not at your ankles, or your legs, or the apex of your thighs – which were covered with more blood than you expected.

Damn it.

You considered what to do next as Ettore remained on the floor, carefully slipping the overalls over your feet. A difficult task when he refused to look at what he was doing.

By the time he finished, and you felt very much like Donald Duck – shirt, shoes, but no pants – you knew what you had to ask.

It was the stupidest thing you’d ever done.

“As long as you’re down there,” you said, your joking tone flatter than you intended, “the medkit’s in the drawer just to your left. Can you grab it and… and help me onto the table?”

Ettore didn’t reply but yanked the drawer open and grabbed the medkit. After tossing it on the table, he rose. Then, still not looking at you, he wrapped his arms around you again – one around your waist, the other around your upper thighs – and lifted you onto the table.

God, you felt so good in his arms. You were the perfect size, like you were made for him to hold. Warm and soft and… wet?

His eyes shot to the arm that had been wrapped around your legs. And both of you looked on in horror as you realized it was now covered in blood – your blood.

For the first time, you saw a look of disgust come over Ettore’s face.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, voice breaking as tears of embarrassment began to fall. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry!”

But he didn’t say anything. Instead, Ettore simply stalked over to the utility sink a few feet from the worktable and slammed the faucet on. He didn’t wait for the water to heat before shoving his arm under it.

You watched in humiliation, fumbling to lower your panties as he grabbed the soap and began to scrub. “I’m so sorry,” you said again, ripping open the medkit to find a packet of gauze you could press between your legs. “Ettore, I’m so sorry!”

He shook his head as he scrubbed harder and harder, until his skin burned from more than the searingly hot water. You were bleeding, you were hurt, and all he had been thinking about was how much he’d like to fuck you.

It had never stopped him before, not with any of the other girls. He had never minded having their blood on him. He savored it, actually. But it had been him who made them bleed. You…

“Who?” he growled, stilling his scrubbing but keeping the arm under the water. The burning distracted him from the desire to find someone to hurt. Because he needed to hurt someone. Badly. Preferably whoever did this to you, but he wasn’t picky.

You didn’t want to tell him, not when you recognized that look in his eyes. It meant violence – retribution. You had seen that same look in your eyes when you watched the recap of your trial from your cell, and your lawyer was telling the jury, in excruciating detail, why you had killed your victim.

For a moment, you thought about trying to pass it off as you just being on your period. But he wouldn’t buy it. Not after what you’d already told him. Besides, all the women on the ship were synced, and your periods were still two weeks away.

Finally fed up with your silence, Ettore shut off the water and turned back to you, not bothering to dry his arms. He just prowled back to you, standing between your spread legs as he stared deep into your eyes without a glance at your mostly exposed cunt. You turned away, not wanting to face the darkness in his eyes, but he grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him.

“Who?”

You bit your lip and fought to get free of his grip, but to no avail. Knowing then that it was hopeless, you locked eyes with him again as you said simply, “Dibs.”

He growled again, not with hunger, but with rage.

And then he turned away.

He would hurt her, you realized. He would kill her.

You weren’t opposed to the idea, but you were opposed to what would come next. What the other prisoners would do to Ettore afterward. And perhaps you as well, since he would do it for you.

Before you knew it, your hand had shot out to grab his shirt, and he froze.

“Don’t,” you pled. When you tugged on his shirt to draw him back to you, he only resisted for a moment before coming back toward you. “It was just her punishment. I’ll be fine. She wouldn’t… damage me permanently. She needs me intact for her experiments. I promise, she was just being a cunt.”

Ettore cocked his head and pursed his lips like he would argue, but you couldn’t have that. So, you lifted the gauze from between your legs to show him how the blood flow had already stemmed somewhat.

“See? It’s already getting better.” But your weak, reassuring smile fell when you realized what you had just done.

He realized at the same time, and he could not stop his eyes from dropping to what you just made visible to him.

His erection had begun to flag while he cleaned your blood from his arm, but there was no stopping it now. Not when he had a full view of what he had been dreaming of for weeks.

Just like the rest of you, your pussy was so pretty. He wanted to kiss it, stroke it, fuck it. His blood hummed with the desire, and he barely stopped himself from diving forward. He closed his fingers around yours where they bunched the front of his shirt. The feeling of your skin against his was his salvation, an anchor to his humanity.

Not you, he told himself.

Not you, who didn’t look at him in fear or disgust. At least, not entirely.

Not you, the only person since his mother died to touch him with anything other than aggression.

Not you, who had trusted him, even knowing what he was.

Murderer. Rapist. Monster.

“Please.” His plea was hardly more than a breath. Pathetic. “Please, let me go.”

For even with your touch, he was losing his grip on the reins. If he stayed here one second longer, he would do something he really didn’t want to do. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

You could see how much danger you were in, but you did not let go. No, you tightened your grip on his shirt, pulling him closer and closer until your forehead rested against his.

Finally, you could look into those eyes and remember the sky back home as you had wanted to for so long.

But the sky wasn’t enough.

You wanted him.

You knew you couldn’t have him fully, couldn’t do what you really wanted. Not when you were injured like this.

Still, you brought your other hand to his chest, feeling him shiver as your fingers traveled lower and lower. Finally, you rest your palm against his length through his scrubs, feeling a sense of satisfaction when his hips cant slightly forward into your grip.

He didn’t have to say anything for you to know he wanted this as much as you do. But, of course, he did. When was the last time a woman touched him there, let alone willingly? The thought should have disgusted you, but it didn’t.

Perhaps you were just as much of a monster as he was,

“Dibs will punish us if she finds out we did this,” you whispered, your lips mere inches away from his. “But I don’t really care, do you?”

Ettore shook his head, his eyes burning like the fires of hell, where you both belonged. He was so close to breaking, losing himself, losing control. He was little more than an animal following the primal instinct to mate.

But letting you take control – and you were undoubtedly in control now – made it easier. For once, it wasn’t him who had to pull back on the reins. Not when he gave them to you.

He nodded vigorously. He wanted you. He didn’t care that he didn’t deserve it. And he didn’t care that you were probably just as monstrous as he was. He just wanted you.

You smiled, pressing a single kiss to the corner of his lips before sliding your hand past the waistbands of his scrubs and boxers and taking hold of him.

He immediately let out a pitiful cry as his stomach tightened, and he had to concentrate so hard not to come before you had even begun to move your hand. It was only made worse when you giggled at his struggle. The sound was sweet and light and utterly infuriating.

Needing to shut you up, Ettore brought his hands back around your waist as he tugged you to the table’s edge. He leaned forward to kiss you, but you pushed against him, holding him back. Then, tensing, he grunted, a low, throaty sound and a begging.

“I know,” you whispered, mock sympathy barely disguising your amusement. “I know what you want. Believe me, I want it to.” You laughed again as you began to pump him slowly, collecting the precum on his tip with every stroke to ease your movements. “You can kiss me another time. Right now, I just want to look at you. Is that okay?”

His hands tensed around your waist, and for a few seconds, he looked like he would let that animal loose and lunge at you. Like he would kiss you with all the pent-up frustrations of an entire life spent unwanted.

But he stopped, looking from where your hand disappeared below his pants to your eyes. And he nodded. Not a small, weak movement, but a firm, final motion.

He would allow it.

He would allow you to do whatever you wanted.

You smiled broadly, and again, he had to hold back his release. He wanted this to last forever.

At last, you released Ettore’s shirt from where you had bunched it with your offhand, raising it to his neck. You traced each line of his maze-like tattoo as you sped your movements, savoring each wince and whine he let out. Cataloging each reaction to figure out, without him having to say a word, exactly what he liked best.

And what you liked best. You were particularly fond of how his eyes would squeeze shut, and his mouth would fall open each time you grazed your thumb over his leaking head, following a short trail up and down his slit.

It was such a mesmerizing sight that you brought your hand up from his neck to touch his face. Every movement of one hand was echoed by the other as you explored each feature.

The severe line of his jaw. His large chin. The sharp cheekbones and flat brow. His long, elegant nose. The pink plush of his lips, from which he let out such tantalizing moans and whimpers.

Once you had taken in every inch of his face, you cupped his jaw in your left hand to feel it work as you sped the ministrations of your right hand. His eyes squeezed even further shut, and he grunted like an animal. But you didn’t stop. You only went faster and faster.

“Are you nearly finished?” you asked teasingly.

Ettore cracked open his eyes, looking from your taunting smile to your hand, working him so skillfully, then back to you. He moaned almost inaudibly, and that animalistic hunger returned to his eyes. He had been locked in a cage for too long, and now you had set him free.

“Yes,” he moaned, almost too quiet to hear.

You brought your thumb to rest against his lower lip, smiling at the feeling of his increasingly frantic breath against her.

For so long, you had feared this man. And now he was reduced to putty in your hands.

With a mischievous twinkle in your eyes, you pressed your thumb further into his lip and let your other hand slow, ignoring his protestations. “Before I let you finish,” you said, your voice tauntingly innocent, “I need you to answer a question for me. Can you do that?”

Ettore’s body jerked wildly as he desperately tried to regain some of the friction you had just deprived him of, but his eyes stayed locked on yours.

He knew he would do anything you asked him to then.

If you asked him to jump? He’d ask how high.

If you demanded he get down on his knees and beg? He’d do so happily.

If you told him to throw himself out of the airlock? He wouldn’t hesitate.

Compared to what he would do, what you actually asked of him seemed so simple.

“Fine…” he gasps, tightening his grip on your waist as though you would pull away. “What is it?”

You smirked, savoring that dark look in his eyes. How could you ever have been scared of it?

Then you squeezed his pulsing cock, just past the point of pleasure, to emphasize the power you held over him.

And, of course, he loved it. Groaning as his head toppled over into your shoulder. You carded your hand through his short hair as you whispered in his ear, “What feels better, my hand or the Box?”

Any pain, any embarrassment at being so pathetically at your beck and call, or any emotion other than his desire for you faded at the question. All that mattered was you and your perfect touch.

It felt wonderful even when you tugged on his hair quite hard to make him face you again. The answer was written on his face, in every piece of the complete, utter joy he felt in every inch of him, but especially where your skin met his.

“You,” he said, the word like a prayer. “You.”

Your responding smile was wicked, and you almost went back on your promise not to kiss him. But you resisted and began pumping his cock at a breakneck pace, brushing each sweet spot with every stroke and letting your pinky graze against his balls each time you came to his base.

It takes every ounce of what little restraint Ettore had to not scream at the overwhelming bliss. It was so much, too much. It was everything.

But what finally pushed him over the edge was you leaning in again to whisper against his cheek, “Just wait until you feel my cunt, Ettore.”

There was a sharp gasp, a guttural cry, a whimper, and a grunt, and then he was spent. Thank God his boxers were thick, or there would have been a very obvious stain at the front of his scrubs.

Ettore whimpered again as he looked into your eyes again, unsure what this meant or what would happen next. He was so drunk on his release that words failed him, or else he no doubt would have said something stupid and ruined his chances of actually getting to experience what you had promised just before he came.

You removed your right hand from his pants, wrapping it around his neck like the left, soothingly stroking the peach fuzz at the base of his skull as he came down from his high.

There was a new look in those blue eyes. Not hungry, not animalistic. Not angry or predatory. No, it was almost reverent.

Who would have ever thought that Ettore, the murderer, rapist, and monster, was capable of a look like that?

You parted your lips and leaned ever so slightly into him. “Thank you,” you whispered against his lips. “For letting me just watch. I think… after giving me that, you deserve a treat, don’t you?”

Ettore didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He couldn’t. He could only stare at you as pleading vulnerability crept over his face. The look of a puppy begging for a treat.

Then, he nodded, his only pleading answer.

You ran a hand through his hair again, making him wait just a moment more. “Kiss me, Ettore.” His eyes went wide at the command. “Kiss me the way you really want to.”

His throat bobbed, and he nodded again, still holding your gaze. Then, before you could even take a breath, he pounced.

Ettore’s lips were hot on yours as he kissed you deeper and more passionately than you’d ever been kissed before. It took only a moment before it felt like your souls were melding together for how close he held you. He did not relent until you were both struggling for breath.

Even then, he kept his lips pressed against yours as though he wasn’t quite ready to let you go.

“Thank you,” he said softly, the sound sending tingles up your spine.

You just sat there, smiling against him for a moment, wishing you could have taken him inside you. Perhaps you were fine now, and if he could get hard again, you could…

But then your watches both beeped the hour. He’d been there an hour. Someone was bound to notice he wasn’t scrubbing the halls soon.

So, you reluctantly pushed him away, heart clenching as he weakly fought to hang on to you. “I want to come back,” he whined.

You didn’t reply as you dressed again, your pain mostly gone, and pulled a clean rag out of another worktable drawer for him to clean himself. As you went to shut the drawer, an idea sparked in your mind. You grabbed another rag and ran to the sink, bunching the cloth as you moved.

Ettore looked on in confusion as you shoved the rag down and down into the drain until you couldn’t reach it anymore. But then realization set in, and he grinned wickedly.

You turned to him and returned the smile. “I think I may need to call maintenance tomorrow.”

#monsters in the garden #ettore #ettore x reader #ettore x you #ettore imagine #ettore smut #ettore fanfic #ettore fanfiction #ettore fic #high life #high life fanfic #high life ettore #ewan mitchell #Spotify

[painting-warhammer]

C’Tan Shard of the Deceiver in the style of Sonichu (CWC)

I lied. This is my favorite figure. Commentary under cut.

#1: Rule Number One Is That You Gotta Have Fun

The other two figures I painted had ups and downs--days genuinely ruined and many frustrated moments where I just hated everything about this hobby and everything I was making. I'm sure this is no strange feeling to any artist, but since I kinda gave up on art over a decade ago only to pick this up after that decade, it really felt like that heartbreaking moment of making something that you know was bad and not improving fast enough.

I never had that for one second while painting Sonichu. I honestly giggled to myself a lot when I worked on him. When something fucked up (note how I didn't make as good of a glowing effect on the eyes) I just took that as "Well, that's just me being accurate to the original art." When something went well, I learned something that I would be able to apply in the future. If you look closely at the quills and the chest, you'll see that this was the first time I tried edge highlighting to get more of a good lighting effect. On top of that, I just used Baharroth Blue without a base paint, but rather as a base paint that I later darkened with a Tyran Blue shade wash for the creases in the sash. I did the same for the skin near on his abs and arms. (I should have made them blue. Damn.)

I also didn't get so bogged down in being accurate to the inspiration, or became better at knowing what to pick and choose. For example: Sonichu doesn't have a sash, of course. Instead, I decided to go with the color of the banner in Issue #0.

There was a point I briefly considered learning how to actually make a decal, then taking the title to be plastered on the front of the model, but I decided against it. I even considered some yellow streaks to give him a bit of a glow, but if you look at the base you'll see some of the experimental wetblending I tried (and would hypothetically cover later) and it just didn't look good.

Also the feet. Sonichu does have a distinct color for his shoes, but I just shrugged and figured it was more correct to just keep it in line with his hands on the model. I made the hands in the hideous style of the Bad Trailer Sonic, and figured the feet would probably follow the same principle. Besides, the sash had enough blue as it is.

#2: Rule Number Two - Just Don't Get Attached, Too

I said I had fun at all stages painting Sonic'hu, and I meant that. The painting part, that is. Gluing was a disaster.

If you're new to the hobby, understand this: Older models, things from the 90's or earlier, are produced using a plastic resin. It's very light gray (left) while the newer stuff has a dark gray tint and is made with a different kind of plastic.

Now Citadel sells ONE (1) glue, pictured to the left. It's a very good glue for the DARK GRAY plastic. It looks like this. Some people use the one on the right, but the listing on Amazon is apparently sketchy as hell and comes empty because they can scam you out of your money since you can't return or refund liquids. So I never fw it; if I encounter it in a hardware store or hobby shop, I'll pick it up and give it a shot.

This is all to ultimately say that in spite of Citadel selling only ONE KIND OF GLUE, that ONE GLUE cannot hold light gray resin figures together AT ALL.

I don't have pictures, but God was it frustrating. Sonic'hu would CONSTANTLY fall apart while drying. I would be holding his arm in place; the head would fall off. His spines would fall off. He'd flop over on his base. Even after priming him, his arm fell off again, and you can see his face is a mess of when my fingers were just covered and glue and I was just holding him in place frustratedly. I tried like three different glues (not including Tamiya, but Krazy Glue was one) and I don't remember which one worked.

However, whether Tamiya works or not, I actually did have to go back to resin on a different figure recently. I went through my old man's drawer and found this.

It's unreal how good this is. Put this on resin, and the plastic itself comes apart easier than the glue does. It also works okay on the dark gray figures, but I've had the odd part come undone and I went back to the Citadel Glue.

Fair warning though--I'm praising this version of Loctite specifically. There are a few varieties, and I can't say much as far as their quality, but I read online that the ones with an extra long cap tend to dry out and be unopenable later. This Gel Control version doesn't give me any problems like that, though.

#3: Rule Number Three - Wear Your Heart On Your Cheek

My only regret is not going harder with this.

There were some gemstones at the bottom of this model and I literally don't remember what happened to them. I was going to paint them like Chaos Emeralds, originally. Then I saw a paint job of the model that had stones encircling the C'tan Shard like he was making them rise up Dragonball style, and the thought came to mind to get little Chaos Emerald replicas to look as though they were orbiting him. (Unfortunately, Etsy pretty much only had them in a set size, and though Sonic'hu was the largest figure I'd worked on, he was too small to have those orbiting around him.)

I also wanted to learn how to model with Green Stuff using this model; there was a point where I considered making the actual sneakers, but more importantly the Pikachu ears and the one additional spine to bring it up to six total. I didn't not want to do that when I bought it, actually, but after the glue had settled after so much effort I was utterly sick of the prep phase and just went straight to painting.

There's also a little Necron that is at the base of the C'Tan that I also haven't painted, but the reason for that is that I am considering how to do the CWC's "The Classic" shirt on his rib cage. I keep waiting for the inspiration to strike.

So that's Sonic'hu. Honestly, having a shitpost figure was something that helped me be a little less afraid of failure and take chances, make mistakes, and get messy. I would resume tryharding by the next figure, and ultimately paint, in my opinion, my best figure yet.

#Sonichu #CWC #Christine Weston Chandler #Painting Warhammer #Games Workshop #Warhammer #Warhammer 40K #WarhammerCommunity #Warhammer 40000 #WH 40K #WH40K #Warhammer40K #Warhammer Painting #Miniature Painting #Painting Miniatures #Mini Painting #Necron #Necrons #Necron'tyr #C'tan #The C'tan #Shard of the Deceiver

[atundratoadstool]

I know you've listed the character ages already, but what about physical descriptions? I remember Van Helsing being described as having red hair and blue eyes and I know Lucy's a blonde, but that's it.

Stoker is both frequently very spartan in his physical descriptions of characters and obsessively interested in detailing their facial features owing to his zealous belief in the thoroughly racist science of physiognomy. Here's a breakdown of what we know in the text plus some notes on how these features possibly operate in relation to Stoker's views, experiences, and research:

[CW: Spoilers and a fair number of mentions of Stoker's inescapable racism/antisemitism under the cut.]

Jonathan Harker: Jonathan is barely described but in possession of hair that turns white over the course of the novel. He possibly has a beard or a lot of stubble following the unfortunate yeeting of his shaving mirror. Like many of Bram Stoker's hunky lawyer protagonists, he's more often describing characters than being described by them.

Mina Harker: She is described by Seward as "attractive," "sweet-faced," and "dainty looking." She also has eyes that blaze like "pole stars," which is a very common description in Stoker's greater body of work (See: Stephen Norman in The Man and Teuta Vissarion in Lady of the Shroud) and match with his rapturous descriptions of real world actress Geneviève Ward. While it isn't as common a denotation of willfulness and determination as aquiline noses, it's generally used to indicate female characters who are very hardcore and may obtain a gun. Her skin is light enough for the red mark she obtains to be clearly visible upon it, although I will note that Mimi Salton from Lair of the White Worm is both undeniably a Mina 2.0 and mixed race/darker skinned, which might be worth considering in the realm of headcanon given how frequently Stoker just recycles characters and their physical attributes.

Lucy Westerna: She's pretty, and her weight and appearance definitely fluctuates over the course of her illness. Her hair is laid out in "sunny ripples" while she's alive. She becomes a "dark-haired woman" while undead. This frustrates many many critics and commentators. It's been proposed that the "sunny ripples" just refers to the gloss on her dark hair. It's been proposed the blondeness/darkness hair is an indicator of her innate goodness/evilness... like Smurfette (which has--again--some Stoker-typical racist implications). The most obvious Doylist explanation is that Stoker cannot track characters' hair color much as he cannot track all his dates.

Jack Seward: Strong jaw. Nice forehead. Immense lunatic asylum. He's also mentioned as being thin in comparison to Renfield and Lucy thinks he's handsome (although obviously not as desirable as Arthur).

Arthur Holmwood: His hair is curly. He is tall. He is also a hottie, as attested to by Lucy and by Jack (who finds him very manly as he kills his vampire fiancee).

Quincey P. Morris: I haven't recalled or been able to look up any major descriptors. He apparently carries himself like a "moral Viking" (as Jack attests in the midst of commenting on yet another friend's manliness). I went into some detail as to how he reads in terms of race here and how it might mesh with Lucy's comparison of him to Othello.

Abraham Van Helsing: After the Count, he's the most thoroughly described character in terms of physiognomy, and that physiognomy... is more or less the spitting image of Bram Stoker as he describes himself (...you know, Abraham "Bram" Stoker, who has the same first name as this super genius great-at-everything character). He's got sensitive nostrils, big forehead bumps, a nice jaw, a big mouth, a strong build, and red hair. I wrote a comparison between him and Stoker here. I will also note that the forehead bumps are a phrenological feature denoting creativity and that Jonathan remarks that he apparently has eyebrows incompatible with self doubt.

R. M. Renfield: He appears to be swoler than Seward even if his swoleness is to no avail against Dracula.

Dracula: There is a lot to unpack with Dracula. He has an aquiline nose, which is one of the absolutely most significant recurring features in Stoker's greater corpus (See: The Judge from "The Judge's House"; Solomon Mendoza from The Watter's Mou; Don Bernadino from The Mystery of the Sea; Joy Ogilvie from Lady Athlyne; and Edgar Caswall from The Lair of the White Worm), and this trait was shared by his boss and Idol Henry Irving. It undoubtedly has physiongomic significance to Stoker, who seems to use it to denote command and leadership, although it is worth noting that Cesare Lombroso mentions aquiline noses as a feature of murderers and that many critics have pointed out its potential connections to Stoker's antisemitism (and specifically the suspicion regarding Jewish immigrants in the wake of the Jack the Ripper killings). Dracula additionally has a "domed forehead," which can paradoxically be associated in physiognomy with both high intellect and mental feebleness. His sharp teeth are a trait Stoker associates with "a militant instinct" (Lombroso, again, connects them with murderers) and are described in much the same way he describes Alfred Lord Tennyson and Sir Richard Burton's teeth, although he took notes from Sabine Baring-Gould's Book of Were-wolves in which sharp teeth are a werewolf trait. We also have pretty explicit evidence that Dracula's unibrow, pointy nails, and hairy palms are also from Baring-Gould. Overall, Dracula seems to be a real hodgepodge of physiognomic traits that seem to haunt Stoker's work, racist criminological theory, and actual folklore.

#Bram Stoker #Dracula #Jonathan Harker #Mina Harker #Lucy Westenra #Jack Seward #Arthur Holmwood #Quincey P. Morris #Abraham Van Helsing #R. M. Renfield #The Count #racism #antisemitism #dracula daily spoilers

[social-mockingbird]

sunlight eyes

(an Obiyuki Cowboy Bebop AU)

obiyuki bingo 2023, yeehaw! this is my first time participating, and I’m really excited to see all of the entries and post my own! this particular fic is based on the finale of cowboy bebop (with some changes, obviously) because apparently I like sadness. it was hilarious to see the similarities between the two shows: namely the existentialism and tendency towards poetic monologues, except it’s hopeful in AnS and sad in CBB. go figure. enjoy!

________

Zen’s eyes were dead before the rest of him was, and he was pointing a gun at her.

“You didn’t come because of the rain?” Her hands were in her pockets in a deliberate act of nonchalance. They were also the only part of her that was shaking.

“I was supposed to kill you,” Zen said, steady in his aim. “That day, if I had killed you, I would have been free.”

“So why didn’t you?” Shirayuki could feel her composure slipping. Zen’s eyes were so dark, devoid of anything human. Once they’d been brighter than the summer skies. She’d lain under their gaze and flown. “Why did you choose to be chased, Zen, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Why did you love me?”

“What?”

The gun was rattling. “Why did you love me?”

Shirayuki couldn’t breathe. She’d waited for him that day, waited and let herself cry, letting the thunder mingle with her sobs, and she’d wondered then if there had ever been any love in his eyes, or if it was just the thrill of illegality. She’d been poisoned by him. She’d fallen in love with an illusion, and now she was terrified of waking up.

Zen had put down his gun. His hands were on her shoulders. He was embracing her, fingers in her hair, breath on her neck. She couldn’t move a muscle.

“Let’s just run away somewhere,” Zen said in her ear, and his voice was warm on her skin. “Just the two of us. Escape this world—go where no one else is. Fly away with me, Shirayuki. Please. It’ll be like a dream.”

Something deep in Shirayuki’s chest snapped. She could feel her feet on the ground, solid on the wet gravel. She could feel how his hands were clenched behind her back, not touching her despite his loving embrace. He was almost falling into her, heavy, trapping her in place.

And yet, if she opened her mouth, she knew she’d say yes. ___

There was a time when the smoke would have bothered her lungs, when she would have hated the acrid taste on her tongue, when she would have stolen the smokes from her friends’ fingers and crushed them under her boots. Shirayuki had been a healer, and she’d believed in the sanctity of the body.

But now she breathed in the nicotine with a straight face, reveling in the calm it brought her thudding heart.

The year was 2071, and it was always raining. Someone poked her arm.

“Thinking too much, cowgirl?”

“Not thinking at all.” White hair in an arc of blood. Birds like reapers carrying his soul away in their wake. Blue eyes turning to glass.

“Then what’s that frown for?”

“Obi, stop.” Shirayuki dodged his prodding finger, almost stepping out from under the wing of the ship into the pouring rain.

It was raining then, too. Hazy like a nightmare.

In response, Obi slung a blanket over her shoulders. His hands were warm even through the fabric. He never could seem to lash back out at her. 

“You’ll catch a cold like that,” he said, grinning as Shirayuki fumbled with the blanket and draped it over her arms like a cape. “Mitsuhide’s making breakfast.”

“Eggs again?”

“It’s all we’ve got, so don’t complain,” Mitsuhide yelled from somewhere inside the ship. How he’d heard Shirayuki from that far was a mystery. Maybe he was running on autopilot.

Obi’s skin had the same greyish shadow as Shirayuki’s did in the overcast light, but there was still a rosy undertone to his face that hadn’t been there in a long time. She’d never admit it did her good to see some color in his cheeks. Obi had been fresh out of snark and sarcasm lately since his last impromptu trip, and it had bothered her more than she’d like to admit to see him looking so serious.

“I’m not going to leave again,” Obi said quietly.

“Huh?” Shirayuki turned, finally looking him in the eye. Gold was so different than blue.

“My memory came back.”

Shirayuki blinked. “I thought it wasn’t going to. Obi, you hit your head so hard.”

Blood on the pavement, blood on her hands. She’d screamed his name when he wouldn’t wake up. That day he’d promised to tell her where he was going every time he left—and for someone so secretive, he’d never broken that promise.

“Nothing good came of it,” Obi laughed, bitterness on his tongue. “There was nowhere for me to return to. Torou’s long gone. I can never be Nanaki again. This—you were the only thing I could return to.”

“Obi, wait—”

“Let me finish, please.” Obi, usually so deferent to her, was facing her with thunder in his eyes. Shirayuki closed her mouth.

“You’re leaving. I can see it in your eyes. That mess with Zen and with Izana is getting to you, and you’re going to leave, and knowing you, you’re going to do it when I can’t go after you.”

Shirayuki dropped the cigarette to the ground and crushed it under her boot to avoid looking at him.

“You’re going to do something hopelessly noble and horrifically stupid and I—Shirayuki, I can’t lose you.”

“You wouldn’t be losing me, Obi, I’m not going there to die.”

“Zen’s gone,” Obi said quietly. “Isn’t he?”

He was falling like a trapeze artist without a net, boots sliding on the rain-slick rooftop. She’d felt something tear in her throat when she screamed and she scraped her hands and knees when she fell beside him, cradling his body in her arms, hoping there was still light in his eyes, shaking him, praying. Why couldn’t she stop crying?

“Izana’s men killed him,” Shirayuki was able to say, wondering vaguely why her cheeks were wet. “I have to go after him. He can’t keep doing this to people, it’s not right. He killed his own brother because of me.” “This is…a dream?”

Zen pulled her close, blood-spattered hands clutching her lapels. He was so heavy in her arms.

She hated herself for lying to Obi. There was nothing noble about what she planned to do. Izana had killed Zen, and there was a hole in her heart that needed fixing.

His gaze was far away, and he was smiling, looking through her.

“Yeah,” she’d choked. “Just a dream.”

There was one other thing she couldn’t tell Obi. She prayed he couldn’t see it in her face.

“Food’s getting cold,” Mitsuhide shouted from inside, and Shirayuki got caught up in racing Obi for breakfast, glad she didn’t have to keep fielding his questions. There would be time enough to answer all of his questions if she was right. And if she wasn’t, well…he could find the answers on his own.

____

It was quiet on the ship when Shirayuki left her room. They were drifting gently through space, sleeping with the stars, and she took advantage of the silence, sneaking to the dock. The tiny exploration ship sagged a bit, but it would do.

She heard the click before Obi stepped out of the darkness, pointing his pistol at her.

“Where are you going?”

Shirayuki lifted her hands, pivoting to face him. She hadn’t noticed him in the shadows.

“Where are you going?” Obi repeated. He was close to her now, gun lowered to her belly. She knew it was just a way to get her to talk. He’d told her the day he boarded the Bebop that hurting her was never something he planned to do. She’d taken it as a joke then, but he’d kept his promise. Obi never seemed to break his word. Unlike her.

“You told me once,” Obi said, resting the gun gently against Shirayuki’s stomach, flicking the safety on, “that the past didn’t matter.”

“I don’t care what your real name is,” Shirayuki had grumbled, the softness of her hands contrasting with her sharp tone. “I don’t care what you did before. Can you just stop letting your past rule you? It doesn’t matter. In the end it’s just a stepping stone. And no one dwells on those.”

Obi looked at the girl bandaging his arm, feeling her warm fingers on his skin, and wondered why there were tears standing in her eyes.

Shirayuki nodded.

“Then why are you so tied to yours?” Obi had lowered the gun now, and was almost leaning into her space, nose inches from hers.

“I’m not,” she protested. “I have to go, Obi, please—”

Obi grabbed her arms, not hurting her, but keeping her in place. “I never thought I’d see the day you went for revenge, Shirayuki. If I know you, that’s not what this is, despite what you want me to think. Please don’t lie to me.”

Why had she loved Zen so much?

“You’re right, it’s not for revenge.” Shirayuki was desperate now. She could feel her heart beating, her pulse picking up, and it was getting harder to tamp down. “I have to go, Obi, I have to see if-if he really loved me and if I loved him and if it was worth it.” She broke his gaze and looked at her feet. “I have to see if he’s worth dying for.” Her voice was too shaky and quiet for her liking. “He decided I was and I want to return the favor.”

Obi felt cold. “You—that’s not something you repay, Shirayuki. Death doesn’t have to be life for life, especially when the person who died for you didn’t really love you in the first place.”

That’s what Obi wanted to say. He wanted to shake Shirayuki, wanted to tell her that she shouldn’t throw her life away. That Zen had loved the game of her hatred for Izana more than he’d loved her. That he’d loved defying Izana by being with her. That Zen died because Izana didn’t forgive betrayal, and his revenge was vicious. Obi knew enough after talking to Mitsuhide, and everything else he’d figured out on his own.

But he didn’t.

Obi instead put his hands on Shirayuki’s shoulders and pulled her into his arms.

Weightless on his feet, sunlight in his eyes. Obi was light in every sense of the word.

Shirayuki snaked her fingers around Obi’s waist, burying her face in his neck. It was all she could do. It hurt to hold him but she wasn’t letting go.

When he put his hands on her shoulders, she didn’t feel like she was being weighed down, only filled up. “This isn’t something you solve by dying,” Obi said in her ear. “You’re gonna carry that weight of feeling like you don’t understand and don’t deserve someone’s sacrifice, and that’s okay. He wanted you to live, Shirayuki—I want you to live.” Obi held her tighter. “And if that means carrying the weight with you, say the word. But please don’t go down this path. Don’t die for someone who doesn’t deserve you.”

Shirayuki stiffened and Obi was terrified she’d been offended.

“I’m not going there to die, Obi,” she said, almost too quietly for him to hear. She slid her hands up his back, over the planes of his shoulders. Obi shivered, just a little. “I’m going there to find out if I’m really alive.”

Obi leaned back and looked her in the eyes.

“Well, now, if that isn’t the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” he said, laughing a little, raising an eyebrow, and then Shirayuki was pulling him forward with her hands in his hair, and Obi couldn’t remember anything else he’d planned to say because Shirayuki’s mouth was the softest thing he’d ever tasted. She kissed him long and sweet, letting him hold her waist and press into her, and Obi tried his hardest not to think about how much this felt like a goodbye.

Shirayuki pulled back first, hands gentle on the back of Obi’s neck, a little dazed. She hadn’t really thought before kissing Obi and now she couldn’t think at all.

Why had she loved Zen?

Obi was leaning down, chasing her mouth, and she tilted up into him, closing her eyes. She felt tears on her cheeks and realized they weren’t hers, and her hands went to Obi’s face, cupped his jaw, wiped his tears with her thumbs. Zen kissed her like a guilty man and held her like a dragon.

Obi was oh-so-gently stroking her sides with his thumbs, and through his tears was able to smile into her mouth when it made her gasp.

Obi made her feel like she was flying, and like she’d have somewhere to land.

Obi said her name and ran a hand into her hair.

It was so hard to figure out why she’d loved Zen.

Resting her head on his shoulder, reveling in his warmth, Shirayuki felt safe and contented. It was so easy to love Obi. “I’ve never carried anything, Obi,” Shirayuki said, under her breath, half-hoping he couldn’t hear. “Not really. Not with you around.”

She hadn’t loved Zen. She couldn’t. Not really.

She was never meant to.

“Then don’t. Live with me.”

Shirayuki pressed her lips to his cheeks, one after the other, kissing away the still-present tears.

“I still have to fight Izana,” she told him, and Obi nodded once.

“Don’t you dare do it without me.”

____

The elevator door opened and Shirayuki charged out, red hair and a spray of bullets, and Izana’s men dropped like dolls onto the slick linoleum. The main doors opened when she slammed into them, driving her shoulder into the curving floral dragons that embossed the wood. The roof exploded. Shirayuki flung up her arms and dove for the ground, debris raining down on her from above. She could hear Izana’s footsteps on the great stairs at the front of the room. She stood and shook herself, ears ringing, as Izana descended under the newly revealed night sky.

“I told you before, Shirayuki,” Izana said, pulling two silver katanas from a sheath on his back, “Zen’s death meant yours was next.”

“And if I return the favor?”

Clack-clack-clack went her pistol as she reloaded it. Izana quirked a brow.

“Either way, Zen doomed you to die. This was your destiny from the beginning.”

“Zen’s death has nothing to do with me anymore.” Shirayuki took aim, closed an eye. “Let’s end it all.”

“As you wish.”

She moved before he did, boots clattering halfway up the stairwell, bullets clashing with Izana’s blades. Shirayuki swooped under, shooting a katana out of Izana’s hand as he swiped at her, slicing her thigh, her side. Izana’s hand came down on her gun as hers grasped the handle of his sword, and they were locked, arms shuddering as they fought for control.

“You don’t control me,” Shirayuki growled. “You never did.”

Izana stepped back suddenly, reclaiming his sword, pushing her gun back into her hands.

“Then show me.”

Izana’s sword was a silver arc spinning towards her gut, and Shirayuki fired, knowing she wouldn’t be able to get out of the way, watching the bullet gleam, dreamlike, watching it find the mark.

Izana fell.

His sword stopped inches from her stomach.

Obi was holding the blade of the katana in a gloved hand, turning it in the air, flinging it far. His fingers were cut and bleeding and they were both alive.

Izana coughed, once, and quit breathing.

Then Obi was wrapped around her and Shirayuki went limp in his arms. ____

The first rays of dawn made the courtyard blindingly bright. Izana’s men watched the figure stagger out from the wreckage, raising guns and swords.

Obi set Shirayuki down and kissed her cheek, lowering his stance, prepared to run. He was holding Izana’s swords. Shirayuki raised her arm, pointing at Izana’s men, fingers in the shape of a gun. The smile came easily to her face now. It was so easy to smile when there was nothing weighing you down.

“Bang.”

And they charged.

--------

@snowwhite-andtheknight

#obiyukibingo23 #obiyuki #snow white with the red hair #akagami no shirayukihime #ans #obi #shirayuki #zen wistalia #izana wistalia #vera writes #cowboy bebop au #angst #overuse of italics #by writing this fic I was finally able to figure out some elements of the cowboy bebop finale I didn't understand #also I loved the idea of shirayuki being spike because it just made more sense #zen ended up being the bad guy sorta which is sad but also I need to let the obiyuki good times roll ya know #my first obiyuki bingo post!

[amphiptere-art]

Perfect thief people.

The police force. Hearts

Sun - Jack of hearts - detective- description (They were wearing a light orange undershirt. Contrasted by a black coat with yellow lining. Briefly spotting brightly decorated yellow patterns within the coat as they desperately searched for something. The coat went down to their mid forearm. The orange undershirt showing up the fill up the rest of the way down the wrist. Their pants were somewhat professional looking. This time being read with the yellow lining. It made sense that most of their clothing were hues of orange and red given that their entire body was already yellow. No need to overindulge a color.)

Moon - jack of hearts - police officer- description (This one had a circular head much like your Sunny owner, But this time without any rays. Instead wearing a prominent police hat which quickly came off and was replaced with a fedora. Taking off the police vest as you followed him to his room.Soon the blue bot changed out to a casual t-shirt with the words "I don't follow the law" printed in broad dark blue letters. The rest of the t-shirt was a light blue. Apparently deciding to indulge the color of his metallic skin. Jumping into some jeans and slipping on some sneakers.)

Freddy - King of hearts - police chief - description...

Chica - Queen of hearts - detective - description...

The gang. Diamonds

Eclipse - gang leader - King of diamonds - description (looks like sun. But blacks and oranges. Has a double set of rays. Has a maroon suit.)

Roxy - getaway driver - Queen of diamonds - description...

Monty - bodyguard - Jack of diamonds - description...

Information keepers. Clubs

DJ - King of clubs - club owner - description (DJ was another enhanced human like Mangle. Although with much more cleanliness. Having an extra set of arms and a speaker implemented in his chest. Wearing the getup of a DJ of course.)

Mangle - Jack of clubs - description (Mangle was a humanoid with animatronic enhancements. Most of them over injuries from a war long past. A half face scar covered up by many mechanical instruments. All looking rushed and improperly planted.)

Ballora - queen of clubs - description (Ballerina was a humanoid who always wore a tutu. White glasses adorned blind eyes. Her skinny stature almost looked haunting.)

Bonnie - two of clubs - description (Bonnie was a full animatronic. A big purple rabbit. Still wearing his bowling team attire from his days of slavery.)

Information keepers cats.

Y/N - joker - cat king - description (You were a simple black and white cat. Most of your form is coated in the jet black color only being broken by a patch of light on your chest in the form of a diamond. The tips of your toes and tail were the only other things that were white. You were quite pretty for a feline. You had a good mid-length fur that coated your body. A small mane resting on your shoulders. Your claws remain sharp)(form of a humanoid. A large black fluffy coat adorning itself on your shoulders. Black pants stretched out to your heels. White shoes and gloves adorning your hands and feet. A white undershirt showing underneath the deep black of your coat.)

Fishy - newspaper cat - description (orange tabby plunged his chonky paws towards you meowing the details of the initial message from the clan members. His collar hung loosely around his neck, a metal tag swinging from it with the name, "Fishy.")

The pack. Spades

Vanessa - Jack of spades - description (vampire)

Vanny - Queen of spades - description (vampire/werewolf)

Afton - King of Spades - description (werewolf with long ears)

#perrfect thief

[litcest]

Hello! Do you have any bipoc incest books? I only know of "the god of small things" and i would honestly prefer the characters to be black or brown because i can barely think of any book that has incest between them

I actually can't recall any incest books with black main characters, neither from the ones I read nor from the ones I saw in passing. A quick google search brought back results of novels featuring non-consensual incest among black characters, which is not what we want.

For indigenous and brown characters:

Aztec by Gary Jennings, which I haven't read but I know that the main character had a past sexual relationship with his sister (both siblings are Mexica/Nahua);

The Blue Bedspread by Raj Kamal Jha, which I have read and although the incest is very important to the story, I wouldn't say it's an incestous romance novel. Like in The Good of Small Things, the characters are Indians (not sure which ethnic or racial group, but I'm almost certain they are not Anglo-Indians);

Lavoura Arcaica by Raduab Nassar follows a family of Lebanese-Brazilians (not sure if skin color is mentioned, but I assume that they are still considered BIPOC by having Lebanese ancestry;

Lily of the Nile by Stephanie Dray is about Cleaopatra's daughter. Not sure if the book portraits her a Greek or as Egyptian, light skinned or dark skinned, but I'll mention it anyways.

This is what I have for you at the moment. I'll try to find more books that fit the request. Probably some books I haven't read but have compiled in my catalogue have black characters and I just don't know it.

I hope my indigenous and brown rec list doesn't offend anybody. I googled and apparently the Lebaneses don't like to be considered brown, but Lebanese-Americans mostly said they consider themselves to be BIPOC. I actually know a family of Lebanese-Brazilians, and I wouldn't call them "brown", since their skin is the same shade as mine, but TBH, in the US I probably wouldn't be considered "white", even though in Brazil I am.

#asks #book recs

[siremasterlawrence]

The Battle Of A Soap Stud’s

Part 1 - 2

My name is Jackson the first Bachelor in the fantasy group television network My5 has create to facilitate soap fans fantasies of getting with the stars.

I am walking into the palace to my surprise it is Jamie Lomas with a tough, gruff and all so hot look channeling his character he lay his back on the wall

.

This grimacing expression on his face as he faces me the closer I get he walks up to me with a smirk and grabs me in a hug lifting me off of the ground.

He places me back down looking down at me he plants a kiss on my lips unrelenting as he pushes our lips smashing us even closer to each other.

His back starts to feel me up a bit groping my ass tightly as I shove him back giggling but he can’t help but be all handsy with me at this point.

We are on the side wall of the palace in a very exciting new world for me he can’t let go stop thinking about the fun he will have with us all.

He took my hand leading me in to the house once again shutting the door behind us in a sexy fit of drama and musclerama that I am really desire.

He pins me to the door his body embracing me with a quick rush of hot skin burning and his breath make he feverish as he throw him against the door next.

-cough- I hear someone fake a few rough ones out getting my attention is my dream boat Steve Burton who I watched on “ GH for two decades.

He is laying his back on the wall his arms in a cross position he looks so amazing I can’t help checking him out but Jaimie is not in the mood.

He is not having this because he grabs his waist shutting his chance from doing all of

it from me and he blocks Steve’s side from me.

“Hello Lawrence Stone! Right? I have and will never think of imagining being with any guy.”

“Well this is your change to start one with a guy.”

“Give me your hand! Let’s dance”

“Master no!”

“Jaimie go upstairs “

“Fine don’t let him come-opt you “

“Forget him Master! Stay with me Master”

Jamie pissed off slips on the floor of my new shiny kitchen sliding in to the wall as he hit his head and he cries a bit a tough guy and a wuss.

He fixes his face as he starts to search for a few supplies beginning to cook up a spread to regain my attention after seeing my lick Steve’s lips.

Meanwhile! I left Steve to set up for movie night for us all even though he thinks it is and would be better with just the two of us in our naked glory.

Climbing up the stairs to find Josh Kelly of One Life To Live and also recently General Hospital fame waiting for me in the master bedroom suite.

He stood right next to the bed in a black suit with a rose in his hand, he smiles when he sees me enter the room, and a picturesque ideal.

The local is beautiful with a pool the lights are dancing over the ocean blue color it is apparently clear and I am in awe of his love and effort.

“Mmmmm…aroma candle”

“Yes! It’s a holiday scented candle”

“I hope you enjoy it but please join me in bed”

“What the hell happened to the lights?”

“The darkness is so hot”

“We hope you don’t mind”

“Who the hell?”

“Oh! Ryan Presscot”

“Close the door”

“The window shades”

“Get on the bed, disrobe and get on your back”

“You on hands and knees “

“Good bois”

“Mmmmm”

“Fuck Master”

“What did you do?”

“I mean they did”

“Men are not my thing”

“It is right this moment “

“Oh God!”

“Yyyyeeessss”

The end

[rosesinbloom7love]

Idea Prompt

I know i’m pretty late to the punch and the month is almost over, but I want to do something for Mermay while I still have the chance.

I haven’t thought of the full details, but the basic premise is that Naofumi is a Marine biologist working in a marine research center.

One day, when Naofumi arrives to work, he finds the place in an absolute frenzy.

One of the research teams that had just come back from a month-long sea expedition made a huge discovery. They apparently had discovered a real life mermaid and brought it back with them to study it.

Of course, Naofumi didn’t believe it at first. Mermaids weren’t real! They’re just fairytales, legends, myths! A made up creature to entertain people.

At least, that’s what Naofumi thought until he came face to face with the half-human, half-fish creature swimming around in an enormous tank.

Naofumi damn near passed out on sight.

The mermaid in question had long light-blue hair somehow tied in a thick braid, matching light-blue eyes and white ivory skin. She had fins where the ears would usually be and webbed hands with sharp claws at the end of each finger tip.

of course, the most noticeable feature was her long fish tail. It was dark blue in color with scales that shined like precious sapphires.

However, the research team has been unable to gather any sort of meaningful data on the mermaid due to the subject's increasingly hostile nature.

The mermaid would hiss and claw at anyone that got too close.

Which Naofumi would argue is to be expected since the supposed ‘experts’ thought it would be a good idea to take an animal they know little to nothing about from it’s original habitat to a completely different and unfamiliar one. 

It really shouldn’t be a surprise that the mermaid would be less than cooperative.

However, for some strange reason, the mermaid acts docile around Naofumi.

This was noticed by one of Naofumi’s coworkers. The coworker noticed that whenever Naofumi walked past the tank, the mermaid would stare at the human male with a curious look. Sometimes she’d even swim up to the glass to get a closer look.

Thus Naofumi is given the task of taking care of the mermaid and gathering data and the creature.

While looking after the sea creature, Naofumi learned the mermaid could actually understand human speech, but she couldn’t speak it.

So, Naofumi ended up helping the mermaid learn to speak it. It’s through this teaching that Naofumi learns the mermaid’s name is Therese.

Naofumi attempted to teach Therese his name, but she only managed to say the first part of his name and ended up calling him, “Nao”. It was cute though.

One day, while Naofumi is closing up for the night after everyone else has left, he decides to say goodnight to Therese. The biologist had grown quite fond of the mermaid over the past few months.

However, upon reaching Therese’s tank, Naofumi finds an unknown man standing in front of the tank.

The man had red hair and was wearing a loose shirt and a pair of pants.

When Naofumi calls out to him, the man turns to face the biologist revealing his handsome face with deep crimson eyes.

Naofumi demands to know who the man is and how he got in the facility without any sort of clearance.

The man simply ignores Naofumi’s questions and smiles, before introducing himself as L’arc.

L’arc thanks Naofumi for taking great care of his mate, but he’d like to take her back home now.

-----------

That all I got for now, but that’s pretty much the gist of it.

I haven’t thought of what kind of mermaid Therese is, but I was thinking of making L’arc a cecaelia (a mermaid/merman with the lower body of a octopus or squid). I can’t tell you why, I just like the idea.

#the rising of the shield hero #TheRuFumi #Mermaid Au #Prompt Idea

[sashi-ya]

Hello Sashi! I find your new event super interesting and I saw you are accepting requests from Bleach too? then could you please write some NSFW for Ichimaru Gin with fem! reader? Any prompt you could think of it's ok with me 🐍💗 Thank you

Hi honey!! sure!! This is the first time I write for Gin and let me tell you the one I'm posting is the FIFTH version of it 😂. Gin is a very important character to me as well as Rangiku, so it is kinda inspired on them! I hope you enjoy! 💖

👑 Oh, Royal Lust Event ~ Royals AU event.

𝖓𝖘𝖋𝖜 ~ 𝕴𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖚 𝕲𝖎𝖓 𝖝 𝕱! 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 ~ 𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗

tw: it looks as if it was a non con at first, but it isn't. Gin would never, he will ask for consent, don't fear. It's heavily inspired on the canon events and his relationship with Rangiku. Also, because Gin is a man who did everything for love does not mean he is a saint, he has a machiavelic idea of "the end justifies any means". And so, my take is that he would make you feel like you are trapped with him, because how can you leave a man who is willing to do as many things as he will do for you?. It's super lovely in fiction, but be careful when it comes to real life. Other than that, the make sweet love and there is also fingering and mental games.

Royal AU in Las Noches. Gin is a Prince. Aizen the King.

wc: 2.3k

Want more? visit the masterlist

Waking up, his smile… His smile and eyes closed look at you.

Everything around is so white and sterile; a single window leads to an eternal night outside. “Where am I?... Who are you?” you mumble, feeling your arms and legs restrained. It’s cold, it makes your skin bumpy.

You lay over an aluminium litter, his smile is persistent and with his index he touches the tip of your nose.

You move your face away from his graze, he is not hurting you, but he is scary. Wearing the typical royal clothes, so white with a little sky-blue sash around his hipbones. Why is he looking at me with eyes closed?

“Please, don’t hurt me” you moan as you hear him giggling with a soft, melodic voice. “Are you that delicate the mere graze of my fingertip will hurt you?” he asks, now caressing your cheek with it. You fix your eyes on the window outside, trying to avoid look at the other side where he is.

A half moon shines bright on a dark, dark firmament. Could it be that I am inside the castle already? But what castle? I can’t remember!

Your head hurts from trying to remember, why… why are you here?

“You haven’t answered yet… are you that delicate?”

A cold shiver runs through your spine, why this man’s touch feel like a snake crawling on your flesh? It’s oppressive, it feels dangerous and asphyxiating… why am I here, after all?

His thumb also joins your face, moving your chin towards him. You blink several times, adjusting your eyes to the white color of bright lights. His silver hair reflects them, his pale skin too. Around, everything looks like a laboratory, maybe an infirmary.

“Apparently the cat’s got your tongue…” he says, smiling even bigger. He looks like a snake… a snake… “Prince Ichimaru?!” you suddenly chime, realizing the man next to you is no other than the youngest brother of King Aizen.

“Good, you at least recognize your superiors”

And it’s true, he is your superior, of course he is. You are just a commoner… but why were you here and why you are tied? You ponder asking him, but, what if you were captured for some reason you can’t remember?

He comes closer to your face, his nose and lips dangerously lingering over yours. What a handsome man he is. “Try not to move, you have a head injury” he informs you, but that still doesn’t solve the mystery of why you are here.

Prince Ichimaru walks away, and you listen him opening the tab. Water running, he is probably washing his hands.

“Thank you, My Prince… but can I ask why I am here?” you ask, once and for all. Your mind won’t let you live in peace, plus, you are probably a prisoner, so you have to know what to expect -besides dying-.

Gin, Gin Ichimaru. That’s his name. Prince Gin Ichimaru. He giggles, softly. A laughter shouldn’t be scary, oh but his it is. Acting like a sweet fox, but with words and actions of a snake. He is one of the most formidable princes after the King of Hueco Mundo.

He turns around, drying his hands with a little towel. His steps cannot be heard as if he was crawling instead of walking.

“You are here because you wanted to escape from my prison” he says, smirking. Your expression changes from confused to worried… prison? Why was I in prison?! “And because you wanted to, our guards caught you wandering through the halls of Las Noches. Were you looking for me?”

You gasp, you really can’t remember, why would you search for the prince? “I- My Prince, I seriously can’t remember!” you quickly try to excuse yourself, making the utmost effort to remember why you are a criminal.

“Why don’t you let me help your remember, (Name)?” he says, throwing the little towel on your eyes. Complete darkness, the sweet smell of a manly perfume invades your nose coming from the cloth.

You sudden feel wet lips, as soft as silk over your ear. You can hear him calmly breathe, and then a whispery giggle. You shiver, afraid but with an unstoppable heat growing in your lower belly. “You don’t remember you are mine, (Name)?”

“Yours?”

The sound of the big zipper of the white clothes you were wearing going down announces you are being undressed. You squirm, why is he undressing you? Why is he saying you are his?

“Stop, please!” you whine and plead.

Gin stops, you can feel your cleavage almost fully opened. “You really don’t remember me? You are mine, (Name)… You are one of my little fucktoys that live in the dungeons just for me to use” he whispers and proceeds to touch your neck and play with a little silver collar you have. “Who gave you this, hum? What do we do with this when you serve me?” he says, making no sense to you, because you are not buying the fact that you are just a mere “fuck toy”. This time he pulls from the chain of your collar and slowly chokes you.

You cough, the unexpected cold feeling of the collar pressing your throat cuts your airflow for some seconds. Sudden flashes of old memories come to your mind, and you can’t really process them. But there are crystal blue eyes, like the day sky, so beautiful yet so mysterious.

He keeps pulling, more and more. You can even feel the chain carving marks on your flesh and your head feels dizzy as lack of oxygen affects you.

“Do you remember already?” he asks, persistent and with even angst in his voice. “What colour are your eyes, my prince?” you inquire, trying to make him stop but also trying to understand if he is the one from your memories.

Gin stops pulling from the collar and breathes alleviated. “Let me help you remember, and I’ll show them to you” he urges, taking the towel off your face. “Would you, my beautiful servant?” he whispers, playing with his thumb over your lower lip.

You debate yourself in between saying no or yes, and it’s not that you are afraid for your life now… you might want him to show you why you are his…

“Yes, My Prince… help me remember why I am yours”

“Good girl…”

He takes the time to free himself from the white cape that covers his upper body.  “See? You normally do this for me, but now I have to do it myself since you have to be restricted”

You wonder why you are, but soon your thoughts are cut short. Lean beautiful body flashes before you, his hakama pants covering just the centre part of his belly button down and the sides of his hips completely exposed to you.

You sigh, beautiful work of art of a man…

“Can I kiss your lips, (Name)?” he asks, coming closer slowly to you. The way his hipbones protrude and move while he walks it’s hypnotizing.

You nod, lips separated, in awe.

His smile, oh… his smile. His grin and his lips pressed against your lips. His tongue playing with yours, slowly, steadily, and painfully sexily.

Kissing you down your chin and neck, Gin proceeds to lower your zipper fully. It ends under your belly button, but for him seems to be enough for now. Your breasts free themselves from the tight white uniform covering them.

Your prince licks his lips, like a true snake. He pounces from the side over your right breast, the cold ambient make your nipples hard, hard enough for him to enjoy sucking them. And he does it so deathly. He has pretty sharp fangs that make you squirm when they graze your sensitive tissue.

You can’t help but moan, a melody that makes him go even feral. Cold fingers press and pull from the nipple he is not sucking, but never once you could see him open his eyes. It feels so good, but is he the man with the sky deep eyes of your memories?

“As always, so hard…” he mumbles, with lips around your already bitten breasts. Because he bites, he bites everywhere. He doesn’t stop, even if he got a little satisfied with sucking you out, and so he proceeds to the next movement.

He now stands in the feet of the litter. The biggest smirk yet, he shows you. Gin sucks his middle and ring fingertips. “I’m sure this will make you remember your prince, my sweet slut. In fact, I can assure you are not wearing panties right now… that’s one of my requirements too”

Lifting your skirt, he acknowledges the fact that he was right. And you gasp as he, violently, sticks his fingers inside you. “Gin…” you moan, when he goes madly in and out, in beckoning motions hitting the perfect spot inside your walls.

“Gin… Gin…” he laughs, destroying your insides by the strong pumping motions of his arm. You realized you have stopped calling him like “my Prince” but rather you are using his name. And he is not mad, in fact he is enjoying this.

Your legs want to close, but you can’t as they are tied to the sides of the bed. The white cold material used hurts your ankles, but you can’t stop moving. He won’t let you breath until you come just like he wants you to.

And you are certainly on the verge of such happening.

“Come” he commands, pressing your lower belly as he fingers you. You widen your eyes; he can order you and you seem to be programmed to comply. “I- I wi-“ you stutter, panting and sweating. Explosive orgasm bathes your clothes, the litter, and his forearm.

“My my… messy as always!” he says, so nonchalantly shaking his arm getting rid of your climax release. “So? Still don’t remember me? Or should I keep going?” he asks, sure you have recovered your memory a long time ago.

And the truth is, that even if you don’t remember why you are his servant, your body does. Your body needs more, more of him. You don’t care the reasons you are there, if your forehead is bleeding from the pressure of the past orgasm, you don’t really even care if he is really the man in your mind.

“Keep going… please”. “I wasn’t planning on stopping either way… remember, You. Are. Mine”

He unties the hakama cords, letting it fall to the ground. Your eyes travel right where the V of his abdominal muscles end, fair skin, and that little mark you can remember. You can remember when he got it done, that scar has been always fascinating to you… he is Gin, your Gin… you don’t need to see his eyes…

But still… why are you tied in this sterile room? Why are you hurt? Why you were a prisoner?

Gin crawls up on the metallic bed, moving in between your legs. He kisses your lips, caressing with utmost love and care your cheek. “My beautiful servant” he mumbles. You know you should ask why he is treating you like his servant, however you keep it quiet.

His hardness rests over your sex, he doesn’t penetrate you. He needs a moment, and so do you. You love this man; you love this man like nobody else in this world… then why you are being treated like this?

Whispering in your ear, so low, almost inaudible he tells you to please play along a little longer. “Please, don’t … don’t ask me, try to remember…” he says, untying your hands from the white cold restraints that were stopping you from touching him.

And you don’t ask, and you receive him trusting blindly in him and burying your nails in his back.

He stays still for some seconds, enjoying the warming compression of your walls, you enjoy the pleasant stretch of them. His skin does not feel cold any longer, it feels warm, caring, loving.

His chest separate from yours, arching his back. His arms bear the weight of his body over yours, and his hips begin to move. He is not smiling any longer, his lips separated, shaky breathing as he concentrates in pumping in and out of you. Every thrust pushes you a step closer to climax, a symphony creates with his moans mixed with yours.

Your hands slip from his back to his lean waist, accompanying the motion of his back and forth stabbing into you. “Gin…” you whisper, in between sighs and about to reach peak pleasure.

His ecstatic expression pauses when he hears you calling his name and after eternal seconds of himself fucking you so deep, his eyes open. Glorious icy irises fixed on yours, telling you everything you didn’t remember. The connection feels out of this world, as if old souls were joining back again after many centuries apart.

Both finish simultaneously, together like two halves joined in a whole unity. “I love you” he mouths, making sure his hair covers his face when he says so and then collapsing over your squirming, raptured body.

“I will wait for you, my prince; I will wait for you until you kill the King… I will wait in the dungeon like your faithful fucktoy. Kill him, Gin” you whisper into his ear. “I will wait, and I will do this as many times as needed to be able to touch your skin” you continue, taking a look at the camera in the corner of the room… because in Las Noches everything is under surveillance and you two know it too well.

And nobody, absolutely nobody could know Prince Gin will spear the false God’s heart… The false King that took so much from you, King Aizen ~

#gin ichimaru x reader #ichimaru x reader #bleach x reader #ichimaru gin x reader #bleach x reader fanfic #gin x reader #bleach fanfic #bleach fanfiction #bleach angst #bleach imagines #bleach imagine #ichimaru gin angst #bleach smut #gin ichimaru smut #ichimaru gin #gin ichimaru #sashi ya #oh royal lust event

[jerzwriter]

What's Forever For Universe Things Unsaid Part 3/3

This fic is part of a new Tobias & Casey AU, What's Forever For? (Learn more about it here.) For those who follow my T/C HC, their background is a little different here. A headcanon will be posted in the next few days. 😊

Book:                   Open Heart (Post Series-Alternate Universe)

Pairing:                Tobias Carrick x F!MC (Casey)

Rating:                 Teen

Category:            Angst/Short-Series/AU

Warnings: Divorce/mention of miscarriage

Series Summary: Three days. That's all that stands between Tobias and Casey Carrick and the end of their marriage. The house is sold, they've said goodbye, and now they just have to wait to make it official. But what happens if one (or both) have second thoughts?

Chapter Summary: Tobias is heading to Casey's parent's house to pick up their son, Kyle. Both of them have so much they want to say, but insecurity, fear, and other factors stand in their way. Can they overcome the obstacles? Or will this be the end?

Words: 2.5 k

A/N: Participating in @choicesflashfics, I was ambitious and used prompts #1 and #2 this week! Also participating in @choicesmonthlychallenge prompt Love (painful love, but love.) I wanted to do one more quick edit - but I won't have time to do so for a while, so I'm going to be all Elsa and let it go. (Then I'll edit on Saturday and be mad at myself... you understand lol) WFF? Universe Info & Masterlist Tobias & Casey Masterlist All Works Masterlist

Monday evening.

The sun still shone so brightly that Casey didn’t need a light on as she stared at her reflection in the mirror of her childhood bedroom. Something to be grateful for… winter's darkness was finally lifting. She would be sure to include that on her gratitude list before going to sleep tonight. Well, attempting to sleep. It was a new habit she had recently adopted, desperate to find any bit of joy to carry her through.

If the mirror could talk, it would reassure her she was beautiful and that the outfit she was inspecting was as lovely as the dozen that had come before. But Casey remained unconvinced. A quick glance around the room, and suddenly, she was back in high school, every ounce of self-confidence, gone.

But that insecure teenager didn’t exist anymore. She had been replaced by an accomplished physician, one of the brightest of her generation… admired, respected, and renowned. Until recently, she had it all. One half of the dynamic duo… the Doctors Carrick: medical marvels by day, loving… excessively so… couple by night. They did it all with aplomb and looked damn good as they did. When baby Kyle came along, the picture was complete. Everything was perfect. Right? So how’d she end up here?

She pulled a pink sweatshirt over her head and tossed it on the growing pile of rejects scattered on the floor. Apparently that insecure teenager had never been too far away after all.

She had already decided to wear her old baby blue jeans that fit like a second skin. Comfortable and worn, they were like an old friend, and she needed that more than anything. Sure, they looked great on her, and there was a time when he couldn’t keep his hands off her when she wore them, but Casey pushed that out of her mind. That wasn’t why she chose them, she insisted. It had nothing to do with that at all.

A soft cream-colored cardigan over a lacy camisole was the next contender. She twisted around, studying her reflection… No. It was too much. She couldn’t look like she was trying; she couldn’t even bring herself to admit that she was. This could easily turn into a nearly wordless handoff of their son. Parenting agreements, custody arrangements… all part of her new world. Tobias would likely see her for all of five minutes without a care about how she looked or what she wore. But… if he noticed… she couldn’t have him thinking she was primping for the past hour, even if it were true. 

A deep sigh escaped her. She didn’t know if she was brave enough to keep her promise to Sienna. Her confidence was stronger when telling him the truth was an abstract idea and a full day away. Now that the moment approached, courage seemed to escape her.

I love you, Tobias. I never stopped. I think we rushed into this, and if we try a little harder, I know we can make our marriage, our family work. I love you, and I don’t want to live without you by my side. Do you still love me? Do you want me, too?

It was easy when she practiced it a thousand times in her head. Ashe envisioned a beautiful rom-com ending for a love she knew would last forever – together or not. But as the moment approached, it was a past conversation that kept creeping into her mind.

“I can’t do this anymore, Casey. I’ve tried, we’ve tried… we always end up back here. This isn’t what we got married for. We have to accept… I know it’s hard, but… but… We’re not going to make it. Our marriage, it’s over. I have nothing else left to give.”

She survived hearing those words once, just barely; but she was unsure if she had the wherewithal to do it again. The numbing acceptance that defined her new reality was temporarily interrupted by a vision of a happy ending. But what if he said no? Could she remove the bandage and expose the wound once more? She wasn't sure she could.

The sound of voices near the front porch pulled her from her thoughts. 

“Shit!” she muttered, pulling the pink sweatshirt back over her head. It would have to do. She glanced at the clock, he was twenty minutes early, and she was unprepared. Already, things were not going as planned.

~~~~~

His hands were still white knuckling the steering wheel, even though he had put the car into park over five minutes before. He glanced at his watch; it was early. He didn’t want to look desperate… or inconsiderate… for all he knew, he could be the last person she wanted to see. For a man who had spent most of his life with assured confidence frequently bordering on cocky, these feelings still left him lost. Doubt, insecurity, confusion, regret… they weren’t in his vocabulary before. He learned that he was infallibly human, and he didn’t like it one bit.

Taking one last look in the mirror, he jumped out of the car before he lost his nerve. His feet were carrying him down the narrow concrete path that led to Casey’s parent’s home. He had been lucky enough to avoid his parents-in-law on previous handoffs. He told himself it would be better when he and Casey settled into their new places. Then he remembered that wasn’t what he wanted at all. It would be better if….

“Tobias,” Rose called out, doing her best to be polite.

His luck had to run out sooner or later, he turned to her with a nervous smile.

“Hey,” he said, not knowing what to call her anymore. The comfortable, Ma, he had used for the past decade sure didn’t seem to fit anymore. “It’s been a while.”

“Mmm. Just another thing we’ll have to get used to. You’re early,” she observed. “Kyle’s out getting ice cream with David. They should be back soon.”

Her arms crossed in front of her chest, and she did not offer to invite him inside. She knew the day would come when she’d have to be more cordial, for Kyle’s sake, but that day was not today.

“OK… I uh… was wondering if…” he stumbled. “You know what, I’ll just wait in the car.”

But before he could walk away, the front door crashed open, and like a vision, Casey appeared. For a moment, she was sixteen again. The boy her parents deemed unsuitable was attempting to make a call, and Rose was in momma-bear mode sending him away. But she wasn’t sixteen anymore, and the decision was hers to make.

“Hi,” Tobias smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry I’m early. I was just going to wait in…”

“No…” she halted. “Mom, I need to talk to Tobias alone. Would you give us some time?”

“You’re of age,” Rose shrugged. “I’ll be in the garden if you need me.”

Tobias’s cheeks turned red and he was uncertain if it stemmed from anger or shame. Their marriage was ending, but did Rose seriously think he’d do Casey any harm? But then again, how could he blame her? For he already had.

The estranged couple settled into the living room, Casey offered to get him a drink. He politely declined. Accepting her hospitality just didn’t seem fair. He sat perched on one end of the couch as Casey cautiously took her place on the other.

“So,” he spoke softly, eyes fixed on his fidgeting hands, “you wanted to talk.”

“Uh, yeah,” Casey stammered. “I just… we haven’t really had the chance to talk since our last day at the house, and… well… it’s just two days away now.”

Perhaps he would have noticed the tears in her eyes if he were looking her way, but shame prevented him from doing so.

“Yeah,” he sighed ruefully. “Two days.”

“I… I was wondering… is there anything we need to… do… before then?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I suppose the lawyers would tell us if we did.”

“Yeah,” she scoffed. “The lawyers….”

Anxiety began to grip her and Casey turned her gaze away, fixing it on Tobias’s keys and phone tossed on the coffee table. Silence weighed heavy in the room, and the longer it hung, the more forming words felt impossible.

Tobias hadn’t intentionally let the silence linger; he was lost in thought weighing what option would be worse… returning to his mother’s and admitting he didn't tell Casey he loved her and didn’t want their marriage to end. Or telling Casey the truth and risking eviscerating rejection once more.

“Casey, I don’t want this. I love you, I’ve always loved you, and I always will. I know you think I just wasn’t meant to be married, and you know what… you’re one -hundred percent right. I never was. Until I met you. If there was ever anybody meant for me, it’s you. We gave up too easily, and ignoring our problems wouldn’t make them go away. I love you, I want you… please, please give us one more chance.”

“Tobias?”

Casey’s voice beckoned him back to the present.

“Yeah…” he startled, “I was just… thinking….”

“I was saying Kyle will be back any moment now, so… if there was anything we wanted to say… now would be the time.”

“Casey,” he started, “this all feels so, so….”

“Wrong,” she finished. “Look at us. We’re afraid to even speak to each other; this is never who we were.”

“It’s not,” he sighed. “We got so lost along the way.”  

“We did,” she choked back tears. “You were my best friend before you became much more…then you were my everything….” she bit her lip, heart and head still battling over what to say.

“I loved being your everything,” he smiled. “And I loved when you were mine… my everything. But we have Kyle, we’re still a family.”

“But what if we didn’t… have Kyle,” she interrupted. “Would you still want any part of me? Or would you let me go?”

“What… what do you mean?”

“If there was no Kyle, just us… would this be it? Would I never see you again?”  

“Oh, Casey,” he gasped, fighting a visceral reaction to take her in his arms. “I hate to think of a world where you aren’t a part of my life. But I’ve got to admit….” He stopped, afraid to continue, but Casey wasn’t letting him off.

“Admit what?”

“The only reason I might… be done… is because I don’t know how I’ll handle the pain of having you in my life, knowing you’re no longer mine. I guess… I have to, for Kyle. But, Jesus, I don’t want to.”  

“You… you don’t want to?” her heart raced at his words.

“No! No,” he said as a single tear rolled down his cheek. “That isn’t what I meant. A voice inside his head was screaming, tell her, but another yelled just as loudly, telling him he had no right.

Their minds both wandered… a montage of their lives flashed before their eyes. Good friends who had become lovers, so in love, they could barely breathe. A life he never imagined but welcomed with open arms. Her face at the altar and his as he carried her over the threshold of their new home. All the dreams, the plans… now gone. He kissed her forehead as she cradled their newborn son. Perfection. There was no way their life would ever be anything but light. Then came the exhaustion, the demands, the misunderstandings, and the fights… real life crept in on their fairy tale and refused to let go. The compromises that left both feeling like they lost, always followed by resentment. Casey lying in a hospital bed weeping, mourning a life that never had a chance to begin. The dark, dark days that followed, when the chasm only widened. They forgot who they were, forgot the promises they had made, and instead of turning to each other, they both turned away. Tension, anger, misunderstandings… they took control.

“You don’t trust me!”

“Why should I? You’re rarely here, and when you are, you're a million miles away. I know what it felt like to be wanted by you… and I don’t feel that anymore.”

“Life changes, Casey! But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you!”

“Really? So I’m the only one you want?”

“What? What’s that supposed to mean? Yes! You are… you... you don't believe me?”

“No. I don’t.”

“Then we have a real problem! Because if you don't even trust me, I don’t know what we have left.”

The bottom fell out, and it never came back. There was no reason for her not to trust him, but he never took the time to understand why she no longer did. He wasn’t avoiding her, but she never bothered to find out what he was. And now, in two days, they were getting the only solution they thought they had. Until now….

“Tobias,” Casey whispered. “I know this may sound crazy, but I was wondering….”

A loud ring interrupted her train of thought… life’s all about timing. She wasn’t snooping, but instinctively turned its way.

Miranda.

Casey fell back into the couch, visibly defeated. Tobias turned off his ringer and threw the phone in his pocket. He tried to pick up where they had left off, but the train had already derailed.

“You’re still friends?” Casey sniveled.

“Yes. Just friends. I never said we weren’t.”

“You have Kyle for the next four days. She's not going to be around him, is she?"

Tobias’s jaw clenched. “No, she's not. But one day she likely will be. Are you telling me Kyle ever around Bryce? He’s never around your friends?”

“That’s different.”

“How? How is it different, Casey?"

“Because Miranda hates me! She was all too willing to tell you how you'd be better off without me. God only knows what she put in your head and I won’t have her do it with my son.”

“She doesn’t hate you! And she never told me to leave you! No, she’s not your biggest fan, but, in fairness, you treated her like shit."

“I treated her like shit because she didn’t respect me. I was your wife, and she didn't know her goddamn place!"

With a shake of his head, Tobias jumped to his feet. "You know what... I didn't come here for this. We've spent countless hours fighting over Miranda, and I have no desire to do it again.”

"I couldn’t agree more. Besides,” she swallowed, "we’ll be divorced in two days. Your friends, and any other relationships you may have, will no longer be any of my concern.”

Tobias shook his head as he shifted on the balls of his feet. "You were going to say something before the phone rang… is there anything... do you want to….”

“No. It was nothing,” she replied. “It's just... this is hard. It's so hard.”

“It is,” he lamented, sadly reaching out to gently stroke her face. His heart felt warm when she didn't retreat.

“Life’s changing for us, Casey…in big ways, but I will always love you. I need for you to know that.”

“I… I do,” her voice quivered. “And I’ll always love you, too.”

“I think I’ll wait for Kyle outside. I’ll… I’ll have him call you tonight before he goes to bed."

“Please do,” Casey wept, no longer trying to contain her tears. “I wish… I wish things had turned out differently, Tobias. I really do.”

“Yeah," he chuckled sadly, so do I. But what did you say the day we moved out of the house? It was a beautiful dream.”

“Mmm-hmm,” she sniffled. “It was.”

Tobias reached over and took her hand in his, grasping it so tight, he never wanted to let go.

“You know, some nights, I have these dreams.... nothing specific, but in them, you and I are together. They’re back when things were still so good, when we were magic, and couldn't have imagined it would change. When I have them, I wake up it feels like you were there with me…you know? For a brief time, I get to have that again.”

“I know,” she wiped away her tears and tried so hard to be strong. “Sometimes, I have those dreams too… and it feels the same way.... but...."

"But?"

"I miss you SO much when I have them. It’s wonderful and hurts like hell at the same time.”

“I know," he sighed. "So, how about this? From now on, when either of us has one of those dreams, we'll remind ourselves the other may be having one, too. Maybe we couldn’t make things work in the real world, but in our dreams, that's something else. We’ll always be together in our dreams… and no one can ever take that from us.”

“You’re right,” she whispered, turning her eyes toward the floor, the pain almost searing. She needed to escape... cut this short... there was no way she could take anymore. “So, Wednesday..." she smiled sadly. "You and me? The courthouse? Will you be there?"

“Our last date,” he half smiled. “How could I miss it. I'll see you there. Good night, Casey." He leaned over and kissed the top of her head as both fought back tears, then he walked out the door without looking back.

In the days that followed, they convinced themselves they were doing the right thing. It would be foolish to go turn back. They didn’t make this choice lightly, and they had reasons. It was cold feet, they surmised, they just had to be strong. But deep down, both knew these were excuses. The truth was, fear prevented them from taking that step.

In the days, and years that followed, they each learned the most painful lesson of all:

Unspoken words never go away, they live forever in our hearts, haunting the corners of our minds. The one question never answered… “What if?” That became their burden to bear.

A/N 2: I'm sorry! It's an AU! It's an AU! They do go to court on Wednesday, and I HC each asks their lawyers, privately, what would happen if they called it off. The lawyers aren't helpful, telling them the perils of calling things off, only to file again, and in their experience, most couples end up filing again. Discouraged, each of them puts on a brave face and signs the papers. They leave the courthouse together, and Tobias walks Casey to her car where he tells her, “So much, we give it so much, and with one signature, it's over." 😭😭 But it's not over, their story hasn't reached its end.

In this universe, I want to explore real life. Where problems aren't miraculously solved. Friends and family aren’t always supportive. Issues don't disappear. Where pride and stubbornness take charge and leave people broken in their path. But we will also see the resilience of the human spirit and how people can move on, even when their heart is broken.

Will they end up together in the end? Perhaps. (She said cagily.) But if they do, it's a long and winding road that will highlight how love exists in many forms. How it morphs and changes over time, and most importantly, how… when its real… it never ends.

Perma: @a-crepusculo @animesuck3r @annoyingmillenialnewbie @crazy-loca-blog @differenttyphoonwerewolf @doriopenheart @fayeswiftie @gryffindordaughterofathena @genevievemd @inlocusmads @jamespotterthefirst @jennieausten @kingliam2019 @liaromancewriter @lucy-268 @onikalover @openheartforeverinmyheart @potionsprefect @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @socalwriterbee @secretaryunpaid @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction @jerzwriter-reblogs-asks @choicesmonthlychallenge @openheartfanfics

OH: @annfg8 @binny1985 @coffeeheartaddict2 @mysticalgalaxysstuff @ofmischiefandmedicine @peonierose @youlookappropriate

Tobias Only: @icecoffee90 @kyra75

#open heart fanfic #choices fanfic #tobias carrick #tobias carrick x mc #ALTERNATE UNIVERSE #playchoices fanfic #angst #open heart choices #choices open heart #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #choices monthly challenge

[sasukimimochi]

-

Chapter 1, Promise

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 (You are here).

Chapter 2, You Are My Home (Coming soon...)

To see warnings, go to part 1. No warnings for this part.

However, this post is best read in some sort of dark mode; sorry light mode users ; u ; It's still readable but it is best done on a colored or dark theme bc i added something nice. ❤

Mood song for Part 1 Mood song for Part 2 Mood song for Part 3 Mood song for Part 4 Mood song for Part 5

-

Ch 1, Part 5:

· ✦ Familiar ✦ ·

Lan Wangji had been working on the search and rescue mission for many years. Frankly, as he wasn’t able to actually go through the gates of hell, he found these searches to be pretty piss-poor. A party of angels would be kicked out very fast if he tried, so it was best to just search the outskirts despite his beliefs that it would do no good.

It was never fruitful. He searched all the earth that he could reach, and even some he probably shouldn’t have been. He questioned himself on why he tried so hard, when he couldn’t even remember the face of this man…but…

“You didn't say that to my shixiong did you?! He died in such a pitiful way and you didn’t even reunite here?! Are you telling me you…you-?!”

Lan Wangji held his forehead and grimaced, fluttering down to land atop a large stone in a mountain glade. His head hurt so much since he started this mission, but he felt strangely passionate about the project. 

The words that purple-clad angel had spewed at him in anger left him feeling quite…shaken. He felt like he’d done something grave, despite not being able to control the situation. Should he have asked Baoshan Sanren to remove the spell even if it wasn’t safe? He felt like his skin was crawling at the mere thought of keeping it any longer, but at the same time he did understand the risks.

Nightcrawlers were fierce parasites- one opening and they would immediately sink their teeth into your psyche like you were their favorite snack instead of a living being. Apparently when he’d first arrived in heaven, he was infected within the first few weeks he was there because of his state.

If it wasn’t for Baoshan Sanren’s abilities and her doctor, he’d probably be dead shortly after he’d arrived.

He sighed, shaking his head. Why was he thinking about all this right now? He had to continue the mission.

However, just as he was turning to leave, he felt an unusual but familiar bristling sensation crawl up his back. He turned his head, eyes narrowing as he very carefully inspected his surroundings. Had he just imagined it?

His ears gave a subtle twitch as a nearby flute played, and it felt like something grabbed him in the chest and yanked hard. What was that melody? It was so familiar…like he…

Like he was the one who wrote it.

He jumped into a glide, moving nearly in silence from stone to stone as he approached the tune.

When he finally heard the sound loud and clear, it drifted away. Unfamiliar blues met his own morning frost, wide and startled.

He felt uncomfortable and comfortable.

He hated and loved.

He felt nothing and everything.

He felt lost and yet…

“Wei Ying?” The name spilled from his lips as if he’d said it a thousand times, without even knowing if this was the man he was looking for.

The other’s eyes glistened and although he was most definitely a demon, one of Lan Wangji’s natural enemies, he couldn’t help but rush over in order to hold the demon as he cried. He bawled, clutching the angel’s robes as if he were a child instead of a grown, fully realized demon.

Lan Wangji found that he couldn’t pull himself away anymore.

remember this chibi comic? ヾ(•ω•`)o

See other COI/MDZS content here on my masterpost. ❤

#The end of Chapter 1! #Thanks guys for reading ❤ See you when i get time for Chapter 2! #sasu writes #COI #Clash of Immortals #Chapter 1 Part 5 #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #mdzs fanart #mdzs fanfic art #wwx #wei ying #wei wuxian #lwj #lan zhan #lan wangji #the grandmaster of demonic cultivation #mdzs fanfiction #mdzs fic #mdzs fanfic #demon wwx #demon wei ying #demon wei wuxian #angel lan wangji #angel lwj #angel lan zhan

[written-musings]

Obidala prompt. One conversation you wish they’d had.

Why I think Padmé was so pissed that Anakin went to be her protector in Ep. II: a few hours after her second assassination attempt

Adrenaline still flowed from the assassination attempt earlier in the evening, yet the ecumenopolis continued to churn on business as usual, the planet that never sleeps.

Padmé sat on the edge of her bed in front of the broken window, feeling the Coruscanti breeze on her porcelain skin as the lights of the towering city glowed on her wild brown curls. There was a hint of pink on her from the sky that transitioned from night to another day full of uncertainties.

This wasn’t the first time someone tried to take her life. In fact, she already had her suspicions about who did it. She was still mourning the loss of Cordé. She was exhausted. She was strong. She so desperately wanted someone to hold her all at once.

She replayed the moment repeatedly.

Two Jedi running into her room.

A teen padawan slaying the creatures tasked to kill her with a fiery blade.

The valiant Jedi stopping at nothing to burst out her window to catch the droid and the bounty hunter assigned to end her.

It appeared that Obi-Wan didn’t hesitate, he didn’t doubt.

But the one moment in particular that makes her heart melt: his blue eyes meeting hers. Although not apparent to his padawan, she saw through them, the terror in his eyes upon seeing her in the dark and how he wanted to jump into her bed and hold her in his arms.

She knew the feelings were still there the moment he stepped in the room when reuniting for the first time in a decade. She thought it was a childhood crush. Merely shaking his hand almost made her fall apart.

Therefore, she sat motionless in front of the window. She did not know whether she was more terrified of the attempted assassination or the fact that Obi-Wan was back in her life, the undying flame she spent ten years trying to blow out.

Duty over feelings. She told herself.

“Padmé…” The familiar voice pushed her away from her thoughts.

Snapping back to reality, she looked up at the Jedi adorned in his robes, obviously exhausted. She internally cursed herself for not being more put together, she hadn’t slept or even changed out of her nightgown.

Abruptly standing from his unexpected presence, she put on her what seemed like omnipresent mask, “Master Jedi,” she bowed her head as he walked towards her in a formal greeting and embrace, grasping her hands for a brief moment.

Looking into her deep, caf colored eyes, he muttered, “You can call me Obi-Wan…”

She smiled very briefly attempting to hide the blush under her cheeks, “It is a pleasure to see you again, Obi-Wan.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” he grinned, his copper beard hiding the dimples she remembered.

Trying to host in the exhaustion, she looked at the chaos of her bedroom around her, the unmade bed and broken glass… “Would you like to sit?” She gestured to the sitting bench at the end of her bed.

“Sure.” He responded as he followed her, sitting angled towards her as the city lights flowed on her and the breeze dance through her curls from the broken window.

“I wanted to thank you for your service today…” she trailed her words with a big deep breath to overshadow her hammering heart, “The lengths you went through to serve and protect me, when I am merely a Senator from a quaint mid-rim system is just… incredibly commendable.”

“I was carrying out my duty, Senator.” His lips curved slightly upward and into a comforting yet awkward silence.

He was hesitant, perhaps nervous?

“What brings you here, Obi-Wan?” She asked directly, wondering why he would be here over consulting with leadership in the Jedi council.

But deep down she knew.

“I think I have a piece of evidence that leads to the person who wants to kill you,” he held up a dart in his fingers.

“That’s… that’s good…” she ventured deep into her thoughts, “Although I do think this was foolishly executed by a third-party. The Trade Federation is behind this, I can feel it. I know it.”

“I have always trusted your judgement, Padmé.”

She smiled at him before looking down at her hands, once again attempting to conceal the heat on her cheeks. He noticed this and couldn’t help to look down too.

“The Jedi Council is going to vote for you to have Jedi Protection in the meantime… and request you go home while I am going to search for the answers.”

Anger filled her, “I must stay here for this important vote in the Senate. I can take care of myself; this is most certainly not the first time someone has tried to kill me.”

He sighed, “I know.”

“Just like you jumped out of that window, representing my people in the Senate, in the name of democracy, is my duty.”

“I understand.”

“It seems that you don’t…” She stood and walked towards the window, listening to the bustling traffic outside as the cool now morning air brushed against her face. She paused and turned around to look at him, “‘It’s been my experience that Senators are only focused on pleasing those who fund their campaigns... and they are more than willing to forget the niceties of democracy to get those funds.’” She repeated his words just moments before they barged into her room to save her.

Shocked he stood as she turned back to the window, “How did you…?” His baffled tone ringing in the air…

“I thought I was dreaming when I woke up and heard your words, I thought you - more than anyone - would understand.”

He sighed, feeling an overwhelming burden on his shoulders.

“Anakin was overstepping boundaries; you must understand that I would never…”

“Understand what?” She interrupted him, “I would argue that you returning here to speak with me without anyone’s knowledge is considered overstepping a boundary, we know it’s not about the dart or the wishes of the Jedi Council.”

He tilted his head, mystified that her logic would give him a run for his credits.

The confused Jedi placed the dart back into his pocket and walked towards her, “You see right through me.”

She smiled, showing her teeth, “Just like you saw right through me when you figured out, I was really the Queen before Qui-Gon did.”

They chuckled together.

“What really brings you here, Obi-Wan?” She asked, her voice no longer diplomatic, but that of a friend she deeply trusts.

He hesitated, looking out the city with her, “I wanted to see if you were alright before we are overwhelmed with our constantly overflowing schedules. Ten years is, in fact, such a long time...”

“I am fine…” She answered him as she continued to look out the window, knowing looking into his eyes would make her too vulnerable, “I appreciate you asking.”

“Are you really fine?” He continued. “I could sense your anxiety from the moment I got off of the lift and saw your face.” He referred to the moment he first saw her, no longer a Queen but wearing a headdress nonetheless, stressed and mourning all at the same time, but the way her emotions shifted when she saw him...

He was too good. And she knew it.

“I’d argue the same for your case, Obi-Wan.”

But they weren’t ‘just’ anxious.

They both knew seeing each other for the first time in ten years unlocked memories, albeit platonic, but seeing each other for the first time in different stages of their lives, however… There was something different, it was not anxiety, no, but something more.

He did not respond to her comment.

“You… you jumped out of this window,” she breathed with a chuckle as she gestured to it with her arm.

“I was carrying out my duty…”

She turned and stepped toward him, “But I saw you…” she whispered, “That tenth of a second where you hesitated and looked at me… it was not an instinct… you deliberately made a choice.”

He gulped, “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

She continued with her words, “Just like you made a choice to come here.”

He had been avoiding observing her, especially in front of his overly zealous padawan, but he finally had a chance to look at her for who she really was. Beautiful. Effortlessly radiant and intelligent beyond the bounds of the universe.

“But you were waiting for me,” he whispered under his breath, “weren’t you? You wanted me to visit you.”

She laughed as she turned away from the window and looked into his eyes with a smirk on her face, “That’s why you’re ‘searching’ for answers.’”

“Pardon?”

“You know that if you were to come home with me with ‘Jedi Protection’ that you wouldn’t carry out your duty.”

He scoffed, running his fingers through his long hair impulsively, in nervousness.

Then there was silence save the bustling city breezing through the open window.

“And since you see right through me… part of me wants that…” They met eyes as she brushed her hand against his, “and part of me knows I couldn’t handle living a lie…” She took a step back, creating space between them as the breeze pushed the thin linen nightgown against her curvy body and he swore to the gods that he could see almost everything.

He gulped, and suddenly it was warm, and he couldn’t breathe.

This is one of the first instances in which someone left him speechless.

He wanted her. This was possibly his one and only chance.

“We have a choice…” she trails as she nears him again, closing the space between them. “But I think you have already made yours.”

He did not say anything, but his brain was racing 12 parsecs per second. All the memories of following the Jedi Code. Satine. Qui-Gon. Anakin. Her. Everything.

“I chose to come here right now, at this moment. Is that not enough?” He asked, cupping her face with his hand.

“Even if we were to try, we would indeed be living a lie and deluding ourselves…” The Senator approached this logically.

“We’ve been doing our duty our whole lives…” He continued to caress her face. “I’ve made my choice.”

She smiled as she pushed him against the wall here no one could possibly see, “And so have I.”

“Even for a brief moment, to forget about our duties…” He hummed into her ear, his beard tickling her and causing goosebumps to form endless mountain ranges all over her body.

Sighing under his touch, “Just this once?” She placed her hand on a hilt she knew was not his lightsaber.

Trembling under her touch, “Just this once.”

And their lips meet as if their lives depend on it. They made their choice. But what happened next was entirely up to them.

Two people who were tired of prioritizing duty over their feelings.

And in that moment, it felt right.

#obidala #i typed this on my phone don’t judge me ok #this could go two ways based on their choices #which means one choice leads us to canon and the other does not #what could have been #obi wan x padme #padme x obi wan #obidala fluff