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gigabyte-flare · 11 days

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The Devil is Real (Part 2)

Part 1

Summary: You sense there's something not right about Los Iluminados and you're determined to get to the bottom of it.

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairing: plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: drug abuse mention, abusive household mention, religious cult, religious trauma, body horror, noncon, dubcon, unprotected p in v, creampie, oral (m and f receiving), masturbation, kidnapping, yandere tendencies, somno, extreme violence and gore, human sacrifice, murder, blood play/kink, breeding kink, pregnancy, pet names, stockholm syndrome, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT [More warnings may be added in future parts]

Your eyes slowly open to find the sun pouring into the window over by the head of the stairs. You let out a loud yawn as you sit up, stretching your arms over your head before swinging your feet over the side of the bed. Heading downstairs, you find Vince already up and making breakfast. You walk up and stand next to him.

“Anything I can help with?” you ask, leaning in to see what he’s making.

“Nah I’m good,” he replies, playfully shoving you away, “you must have been exhausted. You were already asleep when I got back to the house.”

“The jet lag finally caught up to me as soon as my head hit the pillow,” you explain as you sit at the table, “you spoke to Father Méndez I take it?”

“I did. Hopefully it helps. I don’t want you to feel unwelcome here. I know Leon is just doing his job but… you’re my sister. Making sure you’re comfortable here is my top priority.”

Vince finishes making breakfast, once again bringing two plates to the table before sitting across from me.

You speak up once more while you’re eating, “so, what’s on the agenda today?”

“I have to help out on the farm, that’s usually what I do most days. You’re more than welcome to join me, but if you don’t, I understand.”

You nod, thinking back to your time spent living with your grandparents. They had lived on a large farm and your grandfather made the two of you do almost all the upkeep. Your brother would take care of the livestock and farm maintenance while you would tend to the garden, it was brutal work for children. Regardless of the unpleasant memories, you weren’t about to sit back and let your brother do all the work.

“Sure, I’ll help out, just let me know what needs to be done.”

Within the hour, the two of you had made your way to the farm. It is a ways away from the village, requiring another short hike to get there. Once getting there, Vince is tasked with repairing some of the farm equipment while you helped feed and groom some of the livestock. You’re in the middle of wrangling up the pigs to feed them when out of the corner of your eye, you see someone approach your brother. You recognize the cargo pants and the tight fitting black athletic t-shirt immediately and that can only mean one thing:

It’s Leon.

You avert your eyes, bringing your focus back to pouring the feed into the trough, however, you steal quick glances at Leon and your brother as they speak to each other. Leon has short blonde hair and obviously takes very good care of himself; even you could see the way the sleeve of his t-shirt forms over his biceps.

“Hey Sis, come ‘ere!” Vince calls, beckoning you to join him with a motion of his hand.

You put down the bag of feed, silently cursing to yourself before walking over, standing close to your brother when you approach. Now that Leon isn’t wearing that black cloak he had on yesterday, you’re able to get a better look at him and, holy hell, were you not prepared. Leon is incredibly handsome, easily the most handsome man you have ever laid eyes on. You found yourself unconsciously squeezing your thighs together as your eyes rake over him; taking in the way the straps of his gun harness and various belts hug his thighs, how his pectoral muscles strain against that tight shirt. And, of course, those gorgeous blue eyes.

Oh no… you think to yourself, he’s hot…

“I apologize if I made you uncomfortable yesterday,” Leon begins as he holds out his gloved hand; you don’t hesitate to shake it, “I’m Leon Kennedy; I’m in charge of making sure the community is a safe place for everyone.”

His voice is as smooth as whiskey, causing your heart to race in your chest as you tell him your name, “it’s very nice to meet you Leon.”

Leon gives you a half smile which makes your heart swoon; this man is way too attractive for his own good. He must realize it because he gives you a playful wink which, thankfully, your brother missed.

“Likewise,” Leon continues, giving your hand one more squeeze before letting go and looking to your brother “I also came over because Manuel just came in with a haul of fish from the lake, he needs help unloading the boat.”

“Of course, I’ll be right over,” Vince replies, setting down his tools.

“Is it alright if I come along?” you ask, shoving your hands in your pockets as you shift on your feet.

“Yeah of course,” Vince replies, “the dock isn’t far from here; I’d love for you to come see the lake.”

Just as your brother walks away to go to the dock, Leon gives you a pat on the side of your shoulder, giving you another playful wink as he whispers, “I’ll see you around, little bird.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you watch Leon walk away. The nickname he had given you goes straight to your core, causing you to clench your hands as your fingers tingle.

“Sis, are you coming or not?” Vince calls out to you some ways away from the archway leading out of the farm.

“Sorry Vince! I’m coming!” you shout as you jog over to your brother, joining him as you both make your way to the lake.

By the time you two get to the dock, several other men from the village are also there helping Manuel unload the haul from his fishing trip. Vince quickly joins them as you stand at the head of the dock. As your eyes scan over the vast lake, the sights, sounds and smells once again take you back to your childhood. To the times when you and your brother would go down to a small pond that was on your grandparents’ property to have some semblance of fun. The sound of a door opening behind you causes you to draw your attention away from the lake.

You watch two men come out of what you can only assume is Manuel’s house carrying what appears to be a very large sack. Your gaze tracks them as they walk across the property, stopping at a cave opening that’s blocked off by a large gate. They stop at the gate as one of them goes to unlock the gate. You quickly realize that the large sack is moving violently. Once they get the gate open, they carry the sack inside, shutting and locking it behind them before disappearing into the darkness of the cave. You swallow hard as you draw your attention back to the lake, an uneasy feeling settling in your stomach.

Something is very wrong about this place and you feel whatever it is, it’s behind that gate.

“Will you be ok here at the house tonight?” Vince asks over dinner.

“Yeah, why?” you ask as you take a bite out of your meal.

“We have a community gathering tonight. It will likely go well into the night. I just want to make sure you’ll be ok here by yourself.”

You look up at Vince, raising an eyebrow, “I can’t come with you?”

Vince shakes his head, “not this time. This is for members of the Los Iluminados community only.”

This only serves to unsettle you even more, especially after seeing that large sack get brought into that cave earlier that day. Not wanting to upset your brother, however, you simply swallow hard and shrug it off.

“No problem, I’ll be fine, Vince.”

“Good, thank you Sis.”

Your brother leaves the house after cleaning up, leaving you alone in the house. You take that opportunity to go up to the bedroom, settling yourself onto the bed. As you lay there, your mind wanders back to Leon and you find yourself quickly becoming hot and bothered. Taking off your jeans so that you’re just in your shirt and underwear, your hand slips under the hem of your panties, your fingers gently rubbing your clit as you lay your head back against the pillow, closing your eyes. You picture Leon perfectly, imagining it is his fingers rubbing your clit, imagining his hot breath on your ear as he leans over you.

“That’s it, little bird. Doesn’t that feel good?”

A soft whimper escapes your lips as you hear the words your mind has conjured; who would have thought a silly nickname would get you so riled up. You pick up the pace of your fingers, your hips bucking up into your hand as you chase your release. You softly moan his name over and over as your pussy walls clench around nothing, secretly wishing he was buried inside you. You then move your fingers in a circular motion rapidly and within minutes you come undone, practically screaming Leon’s name as your body convulses. In the heat of the moment, your elbow crashes into the small bedside table, causing it to tip over, causing the contents of a small drawer to spill all over the floor.

The abrupt crash immediately snaps you out of your fantasy. You sit up in the bed and stand up, picking up the items that had fallen out of the bedside table. A crudely made leather bound book catches your attention; you sit down onto the side of the bed and open it. The text inside is handwritten and you quickly realize once you start reading it that it’s your brother’s journal. You know you shouldn’t be reading it, but a part of you is hoping that it reveals what exactly is going on in this community.

March? 2006

I’ve completely lost track of time since Josh and I were brought here. I found this notebook inside the building they brought us in, so I figured I’d use it to chronicle what’s been going on in case someone else finds it. It was Josh’s idea to go backpacking across Europe. I regret not telling my sister where I was going; she must be worried sick!

This group, called Los Iluminados, promised us a paradise on Earth. A place for us to disconnect from the world and detox and it doesn’t take a genius to know I definitely need that. They didn’t seem very bothered by the fact that Josh is my boyfriend despite being a religious group, so that was refreshing.

You stop reading for a moment, absorbing the information you just learned. Your brother is gay. It came as a complete shock to you, however upon looking back, it’s a wonder you hadn’t realized it sooner. It certainly explains why your grandfather was especially hard on Vince. Why didn’t he tell you? You can’t help but feel hurt by the fact your brother wasn’t comfortable enough telling you. You set aside these emotions for the time being and continue to read.

They injected both of us with something, said it would help us with the detox process. And then they brought us into the basement of one of the houses. It’s almost pitch black down here, the only indication of time passing is from the faint streaks of light coming down from the floorboards. It’s a miracle I can even see what I’m writing. I feel ok, but Josh on the other hand isn’t looking good at all. He’s broken out into a rash and he won’t stop sweating. He keeps saying everything hurts. What the fuck did they inject us with?

March… Maybe April? 2006

It’s been a few days since they first locked us into this basement. I keep coughing up blood and having weird dreams, but otherwise I don’t feel too bad. Josh on the other hand isn’t doing well at all, he’s been violently convulsing and hacking up way more blood than I have. I don’t think he’s going to make it.

April 2006

They came down into the basement and took Josh, he had gotten worse from when I had written earlier. They came back later and examined my eyes, saying my blood had accepted the gift, whatever that means. They led me out of the basement and gave me one of the houses. They say I’m part of the community now. I don’t know what happened to Josh.

There are no new entries in the journal after that. You’re completely overwhelmed with emotions, both from what you learned about your brother and the implications of what happened to his boyfriend Josh. All of this just further cemented the fact that you had to find out what lies beyond that gate you saw them bring that sack into.

After picking up the mess and tucking the journal safely back inside the bedside table, you go to bed where your mind enters the realm of dreams which have been invaded by thoughts of Leon.

The next morning, your brother informs you that the two of you will be going over to Father Méndez’s house to have dinner. The house itself is grandiose, we’re immediately greeted with the large dining room table already laid out with food and drinks. The dinner itself is largely uneventful, Father Méndez asks you a lot of questions about living in the United States and how you’re liking your stay with the community. As the dinner wears on, you realize that this is a golden opportunity to try to find some answers.

You abruptly stand up, “sorry I need to excuse myself for a moment. Where’s the bathroom, Father?”

Father Méndez motions to the archway over to the left, “through there, sweetheart.”

You smile at him and nod in acknowledgement, “thank you Father, if you excuse me…”

You walk through the archway, finding a set of stairs going up to the second floor of the house. You look over at the dinner table, waiting until Father Méndez is completely focused on your brother before silently ascending the stairs. At the top is another hallway. You carefully walk to the end of it, finding what you guess is the master bedroom, a large four poster bed immediately to your right, a dresser to the left and a small desk next to the window ahead of you.

You slowly walk up to the desk, which is covered in various papers that have words written in Spanish on them. You then open up one of the drawers and you suck in a breath at what you find. It’s an ornate key, embellished with the same weird cross symbol that you saw back at the church and, now that you think about it, the gate by the dock also had this same symbol. This key has to go to that gate, you’re sure of it. You softly close the drawer, tucking the key into your pocket.

“What are you doing in here?” you hear Father Méndez ask.

You jump as you turn around, placing your hand over your racing heart, “Father I’m so sorry! I got lost looking for the bathroom.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, but then smiles at you warmly, “that’s quite alright, I wasn’t clear in my direction. It’s downstairs, the door on the right just before the back door, follow me and I can show you.”

You allow Father Méndez to lead you to the bathroom, which is quite literally a hole in a raised part of the floor. The smell coming out of it almost knocks you out. Despite this, you spend a couple minutes in there to make it convincing before you return to the dinner table, all the while fiddling with the key in your pocket.

You and your brother finish up dinner with Father Méndez, getting back home just before it gets dark. You excuse yourself and go to bed early, claiming to be exhausted from socializing. You sit on the side of the bed, twirling the key you found in your fingers as you examine it as you listen for confirmation that your brother is asleep. It takes a couple hours, but you hear the telltale signs of your brother’s snoring. Getting up from the bed, you walk over to the window over by the stairs, carefully opening it and climbing out. It leads you outside on some crude scaffolding, you quickly find a ladder to climb down.

The waxing moon casts a gentle glow throughout the village, which you use to your advantage as you make your way to the dock area. You walk crouched, trying to use the environment to mask your movements, hoping to not draw anyone’s attention. You eventually make it to the gate, looking around before digging the key out of your pocket, putting it into the keyhole and turning. As you suspected, the key unlocks the gate with ease and you push on it gently, the gate letting out a soft squeak as it swings open. You shut the gate behind you, making your way inside the cave.

Once you get to the back of the cave, you come across another gate, pushing it open to find a furnished room filled with various root vegetables and supplies. Upon stepping in, you’re overwhelmed by the smell of decay, bringing your shirt up over your nose to mask the smell. It doesn’t take long for you to find the source. To your right, there is a person on their knees, held up by their wrists on a rope. You hesitantly approach, finding that it’s a young woman, her skin pitch black in decay and that weird cross symbol painted on her face with blood. You fight back the bile building up in your mouth.

“I fucking knew it,” you say to yourself, “this is a fucking cult.”

You take another look around, spotting a ladder leading upwards through the floor in the back. You hesitantly approach it and begin climbing up. As you ascend to the top, you are greeted by another horror; an altar with another young woman laid onto it, her blood completely covering it. You see her hands are tied behind her back. You walk around the altar to face her. She has that same symbol painted onto her face. Her skin still has color to it, suggesting that she hasn’t been dead for very long. You begin to suspect that this woman was in that sack that you saw carried into the cave.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you hear Father Méndez’s voice boom from behind you.

You spin around and face him, he’s standing straight with his hands neatly folded in front of him.

“What the hell kind of operation do you have here?!” you shout, balling your fists, “I knew something wasn’t right about this place. I’m taking my brother, we’re leaving and reporting you to the authorities!”

A low chuckle comes out of Father Méndez, “her blood did not accept the gift. You, however, may have better luck.”

Méndez brings one hand up, snapping his fingers. Suddenly, two men that had been standing behind you grab you by your arms, twisting them behind your back as you struggle as hard as you can. You watch as Father Méndez reaches into his coat pocket, producing a large hypodermic needle. As you struggle, Father Méndez begins to approach you. Your gaze shifts to the figure standing just behind him, seeing that Leon is standing there, watching, back to wearing that large black cloak, the hood mostly obscuring his face. All you can see is a menacing smirk that is on his lips.

“Sis calm down, it’s going to be ok!” you hear your brother, quickly realizing he is one of the men that is restraining you, “my blood accepted the gift, I’m certain yours will, too.”

“Vince!” you cry out, turning to him, “do you hear yourself? This is insane!”

Father Méndez looms in front of you, grabbing the side of your head and pushing it to expose your neck, wasting no time inserting the needle into your skin, injecting the strange liquid into your body. Whatever it is, it burns. You feel it spread across your neck as you continue to struggle, tears now flowing down your face.

“Bring her to the holding area,” Father Méndez commands.

Without any hesitation, your brother and the man helping to restrain you bring you back down through the hole you had come up out of, carrying you out of the cave as you kick and scream. They bring you to Manuel’s house, carrying you inside. In the back of the house, there is a trap door. The other man retraining you kicks the trap door open before he and your brother gently lower you inside. Once on the ground, you scramble to your feet and stare up at the opening, seeing your brother stare down at you, only, there’s something very off about him. Black veins cover his skin and his eyes are glowing red.

“Vince, you can’t do this! You need to get me out of here!”

“I’m sorry, Sis,” he says softly before slamming the trap door shut.

You stand there in utter shock as you hear the door being locked, trapping you in the pitch black darkness.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #plagas!leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #dead dove do not eat #dead dove #gigabyte writes

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carionto · 8 months

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Hardcore Space Parkour

Some Humans are worryingly agile. And stupidly driven to endanger themselves. For no reason we can understand.

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Within the Coalition governing station of the segment of the Galaxy where the Sol system is are countless embassies for each member civilization. Each is designed to accommodate their respective species (or multiple in certain cases) to the fullest while also being able to host guests from any other member.

Then there are the communal areas, set for a galactic standard that is viable for the majority - gravity at 0.6 Earth, far less of that dangerous oxygen, and slightly more humid and cooler than what Humans are normally comfortable with. In fact, Humans technically fall outside the Galactic standards and are all equipped with a partial breathing assistance unit and pressurized clothing to stimulate their circulation. While they can function reasonably well despite what we assumed would be too draining without assistance, most Humans do make use of these gadgets.

Some, however, prefer to "stimulate" themselves a bit differently.

There is a small group of individual Humans many have dubbed "Leaping Cortix" after an infamous invasive fuzzy gelatinous centipede-like pest species that always manages to make a hive on any sufficiently large space station or vessel given enough time. Everybody swears they're some kind of magic, and it's hard to dissuade such a notion when there are fairly common reports of ships on deep isolation missions, without making contact with anyone or anything else for years at a time, still one day find themselves with a pack of Cortix skittering about near their nutrition supplies!

This group of Humans, found the title amusing and have embraced it. One of them even made a hooded sweater with the name and a stylized Cortix jumping off the letter x.

The reason for the name is simple - despite becoming integrated into the Coalition just around a year ago, Humans seem to appear everywhere within this segment of the Galaxy. Mostly in small groups for tourism reasons, but the point still stands. And these Humans in particular appear to make it a habit to appear out of the most unexpected places.

The leaping portion comes from how this group tends to move around the communal areas. Most Humans adapt to the lower gravity and eventually (rather quickly actually) change how they move around when outside their embassy - the movements seem more relaxed, fluid, some even appear to exert almost no effort at all in their steps. This group on the other hand utilizes the full force of their incredibly dense musculature.

First, they jump good. Real good. Then they bounce and pivot, real fast. After a few days they started a game - get to any place without touching the floor. Not even a day later they managed to always be in the air.

At first it was impressive and quite mesmerizing. Quite a sight to behold as they got better and quicker at chaining their jumps and bounds together into one smooth motion that took them from one part of the station to the other in mere moments.

Then they started getting bored. And one of them had an idea. An "awesome" idea.

Add flying robots and moving obstacles.

Chaos ensued. Naturally.

As the Humans leapt off of one of the maintenance machines they programmed to hover between several distant structures, it could not compensate for the sudden recoil from the movement and crashed down on the floor. Thankfully it was above a small garden and only some artificial plants were damaged, as well as itself, but that was enough to call in the peacekeeping units to put a halt to their antics.

We deliberately brought a Human peacekeeper along to make the reprimand stick. The Leaping Cortix, most of whom are junior staffers and one is a retired military veteran now serving as a consultant, looked ashamed, but also sad. At least they seemed to understand the gravity of the situation (though perhaps not as well as the physics of gravity) as the wreckage was cleared in clear sight of everyone.

After the offending member was issued a token fine (as it was their first offense), the group as a whole became less active. Initially, most people felt relieved, but as the incident grew more distant in memory, the sight of the flying Humans started to become missed by quite a few.

Some from the more physically able races were even inspired to try this "parkour" the Humans had demonstrated and found it quite thrilling. When done in a lower than their normal gravity that is. Trying it at their standard caused a few broken bones and cracked shells.

There is currently a petition by the permanent residents to dedicate a large open indoor field for such extreme physical sports as well as to commission the design of a variety of machines to facilitate, as written in the official documentation - "stimulating courses to improve the physical well being and readiness of all participants".

I.E. - Humans introduced a new sport to us and many are hooked.

#humans are space orcs #humanity fuck yeah #humans are deathworlders #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #carionto

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burntheedges · 5 months

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Maintenance Request: Chapter 4

Joel Miller x f!reader | new chapter every Friday 18+ (minors DNI) | ao3 | main post & chapter list chapter word count: 1.8k

fic summary: Hot Construction Guy is the bane of your existence - he seems to only pop up at the worst possible moment for you, every time you see him. There’s no way there could be something more there.

Right?

chapter tags/warnings: fluff, light angst? a/n: this one’s a bit shorter than usual but, well. you’ll see. 😏

Chapter 4

Interlude

That day in front of the parking garage might have been the first time you saw Joel, but it wasn’t the first time he saw you.

It was summer, but one of those days that wasn’t so hot, with plenty of clouds for shade and a nice breeze that tickled its way across campus. Joel was sweating, though, and not at his cleanest. Some of the new players on the football team had created a truly impressive mess in the quad by their summer dorms, and he and some of the crew had been over to assess the damage to figure out how to clean up whatever science experiment they had decided to try from the internet. There was bright green foam, for fuck’s sake. It was sticky. And it was everywhere. Including all over Joel himself. He’d probably need to call Tess and her chemistry minions in for a consult on this one.

He was usually pretty busy during the summer, anyway. It was a good time to make big changes — fewer students on campus, fewer people to trod all over the landscaping. Easier to bring in heavy equipment that would disturb normal operations when more classes were in session. He enjoyed it, working on projects he could only dream about with his staff in the depths of the semester when the students were at the height of their shenanigans and the administrators were at their most overbearing. But even in the summer the students still managed to throw them curveballs, sometimes.

Joel was walking, distracted — he was adding to his mental to-do list, going over who he needed to send over to help with the clean up, who else he’d need to shuffle around on the crews working on the landscaping by the engineering building and the prep work around the football stadium for fall, always keeping in mind everything they’d need to do for parent orientations in late July and convocation in August as well, barely keeping an eye on where he was going as he tried to keep it all straight in his mind until he could get back to his office and his computer.

And that’s when he saw you for the first time.

You were sitting in your favorite spot, though he didn’t know it then. There was a smallish garden between two classroom buildings, tucked away off the humanities quad. Officially it was the “Founder’s Garden” but he knew the students called it the Secret Garden. It had a pretty fountain in the middle by the entrance from the quad and benches tucked away under various trees and in shaded corners down the winding paths, which were lined with colorful flowers and bushes and well-kept trees. There was an exit at the back of the buildings that led to the main dining hall. Joel knew that during the semester it tended to get overrun with students — they loved to nap on the benches until it got too cold, and even then they used it as a meeting place all year round.

Near the fountain there was a bench under a large maple tree, which Joel knew was one of the older trees in the garden. And that’s where his eyes found you. You were partially lit up by the sun — it was shining down on you through the maple leaves, and their shadows danced over you in the light breeze. You had a pile of books and papers spread out on the bench but you were engrossed in the book you were reading. So engrossed that you didn’t notice the strange man covered in green foam stains who had stopped short by the entrance to openly stare at you. Totally unable to stop himself. Every other thought, every worry fell right out of his head.

Something about the way your face was inching closer to the open pages in front of you, book propped on your knee, foot propped on the bench, nose almost touching the words — well, he couldn’t look away.

Joel was already studying your face when something in the book clearly amused you. You smiled, and it came over him like a lightning strike, stealing his breath and rooting him in place. He blinked and realized his left hand was clenched into a fist while his right had come up to press on his chest as he sucked in a deep breath.

Move. He needed to make himself move before he got caught staring at you like a total creep.

Right as he finally started to turn, though, the breeze kicked up around your bench.

It was almost cinematic, the way it rustled your clothing and the pages of the books next to you. A couple of flower petals and leaves floated around you before settling next to you on the bench. He traced the path of one through the air until it landed on your shoulder, but you didn't seem to notice.

He shook his head to try to clear it.

You didn’t look up as Joel turned and forced himself to keep moving, only allowing himself a single glance back as he turned the corner away from the garden, and you, and saw that you’d shifted so your face was lit up by the light of the sun. It kissed your skin as you furrowed your brow, studying the words in front of you so intently that it took his breath away. Again. He felt a shiver run up his spine. You were a vision, and you were beautiful. He swallowed, turned the corner, and then kept turning, moving forward until he could rest his forehead on the brick wall of the old building in front of him. A few deep breaths later and he shook out his arms, setting his jaw and resuming his walk towards his office. He tried to focus on his destination and not the way you’d looked on that bench. Like he’d conjured you, perfect, meant to sit right there in that garden, framed gently by the maple tree, and glow.

Joel didn’t let himself think it consciously, not then, but he was already screwed from that first glance. He saw you around campus a few times after that, but always from afar. Sometimes you were laughing with a colleague, other times you were hurrying to what he assumed were your classes. He even heard someone call out to you across the quad, once, and that’s how he learned your name. He realized later that you must have been a professor in the English department, since he usually saw you near that building.

He was trying not to learn too much, though. He didn’t want to become some weird stalker.

He was holding out hope that he might actually speak to you someday, anyway, and get to hear it all from you instead.

And then came that day in September, when he was stationed by the front of the parking garage, both for easier communication and to free up as many of his crew as possible to work on the water line problem. Nothing could have prepared him to see you pull up in that next car. You, actually talking to him. His mouth went dry but he found himself reciting the same thing he’d said to all of the other drivers on autopilot. You were driving away before he could even really register that you’d said anything back. Shit.

Joel set his shoulders and decided that next time, he’d make an impression. He’d find a way to talk to you. Maybe ask you to get coffee, if he got the chance.

And, well, he did get that chance, even sooner than he could have imagined. It just turned out that he didn’t actually make the impression he wanted, not really. He felt like each interaction with you was like sand slipping through his fingers, nothing he could hold on to, never turning out the way he wanted. Joel tried to turn them around but you were always in a hurry or inconvenienced or embarrassed or sick because of his goddamn flowers and there was nothing he could do about it.

He didn’t realize quite how sideways it had all gone until that day outside your class. He was leaning in, trying to hear you over the sound of the jackhammer, watching your mouth move and trying not to be weird about it, when your words sent his stomach plummeting to his feet.

“Can’t wait to find out what shitty, unpleasant surprise you have in store for me next time.”

Fuck.

You were right, after all. Every time you’d seen him so far had been in the context of an unpleasant surprise (to put it mildly). That was all he was to you — the harbinger of an unpleasant series of incidents that interrupted your life. He watched you walk away from him, spine straight, shoulders rigid, and felt it tug somewhere deep in his chest like you'd fixed a string there, with the other end looped securely around your fingers.

He had to fix this if he ever wanted you to actually look at him. To talk to him for real, not just in the little barely-there glimpses of flirting that he hoped he wasn’t imagining in your interactions. If he wanted to get to know you at all.

Joel spent the rest of his time at the job site that day working it over in his mind. He didn’t want to just show up at your office; that would be creepy, you’d barely spoken to each other. He’d made a point to not look you up on the college’s website, too. But he wanted to find a way to improve the first impression that he’d not just squandered but apparently beaten into an early grave with a spilled coffee, a pile driver, some flowers, and now a fucking jackhammer on top of that.

He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and sighed. Fuck. It had been so long since he’d had this kind of interest in anyone, he felt like he barely knew what he was doing. He didn’t want to mess this up any more than he already had.

A week later, he still hadn’t figured out what he was going to do, was actually wallowing and beating himself up about it a bit in his office, when his inbox pinged with a new maintenance request. He barely glanced at these, usually, since his crew took care of them, but Phil was out sick and he’d been keeping an eye on them this week to lighten the load. Couldn’t wait for him to be back, really, since the requests were usually to move a piece of furniture and schlepping all over campus for that was not Joel’s idea of fun.

He clicked on it, and when he saw the name on the request, he started to smile. By the time he was done assigning himself to the request he was grinning.

Maybe he would get that second chance, after all. He’d just find a way to make sure it went better this time.

Joel wasn’t going to let this one slip away.

...

a/n: I can't wait to hear what y'all think of this one. see you next Friday! prev | next

taglist: @jupiter-soups @ilovepedro @katareyoudrilling @auteurdelabre @anoverwhelmingdin

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #tlou fic #maintenance request fic #x reader

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seireiteihellbutterfly · 6 months

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Bleach Headcanons : Oddities Part 2

More weird stuff that members of the Gotei 13 do. Part 1 can be found here.

Genryusai Yamamoto

Enjoys knitting and spends his evenings creating intricate scarves and blankets for his squad members. He considers it a form of meditation and finds solace in the rhythmic clicking of the knitting needles.

Has a hidden stash of adorable cat-themed trinkets in his office, gifts from squad members over the years.

Has a peculiar habit of conducting morning exercises with his subordinates, insisting on leading synchronized stretching sessions that include overly enthusiastic jumping jacks and cartwheels, much to everyone's surprise.

Shunsui Kyoraku

Composes dramatic, overly poetic love letters to his favorite sake brands, expressing his undying devotion and appreciation for their taste.

Is known to challenge squad members to bizarre competitions, such as a haiku battle or a contest to see who can take the longest nap. He always claims victory, regardless of the actual outcome.

Keeps a stash of disguises in his office and occasionally infiltrates other squads just for fun, but he's always caught due to his distinctively lazy demeanor

Izuru Kira

Has a secret collection of adorable plush toys hidden in his office. Whenever he's stressed, he takes a break with these plushies, assigning different voices and personalities to each one.

Creates a mini zen garden in his office and spends hours meticulously arranging the sand and tiny rocks, finding solace and inner peace in its careful maintenance.

Collects unusual stationery and spends his downtime experimenting with different types of ink and quills.

Toshiro Hitsugaya

Develops an unexpected fascination with ice sculpting and spends his free time sculpting intricate, mini ice replicas of notable Seireitei landmarks. He insists they're just practice, but secretly cherishes them in his office.

Unintentionally is a magnet for lost animals in the Seireitei, and his squad often finds him shooing out stray cats and birds from his office.

Becomes overly protective of the squad's refrigerator, labeling each item with his name and fiercely defending his snacks from any potential thieves within the squad, even going as far as setting up "ice traps" to catch unauthorized snack bandits

Zaraki Kenpachi

Pretty sure he’s adopted a pet kitten that he secretly dotes on in his spare time. He refuses to acknowledge its existence in front of anyone and grumbles about "just tolerating its presence," but his squad members catch glimpses of him sneaking it bits of fish and milk.

Started a food stall called "Kenpachi's Cooking Corner" where he attempts to teach his squad how to cook. The sessions usually end in chaos and burnt food, but everyone participates out of fear of upsetting him.

Enjoys reading shoujo manga in secret and has a vast collection stashed away in his office, fiercely denying their existence whenever someone accidentally discovers them, insisting that he got them for Yachiru.

Mayuri Kurotsuchi

Holds "Bring Your Weirdest Invention to Work" days in his lab, encouraging his subordinates to create the most outlandish and impractical gadgets imaginable. However, he always mysteriously makes his own invention vanish right before the judging, claiming it was too advanced for everyone else to comprehend

Holds a weekly "Fashion Forward Friday" where he experiments with unconventional clothing designs, resulting in outrageous outfits that his squad members struggle to comprehend

Has a peculiar habit of meticulously organizing his lab by arranging test tubes and equipment according to their color gradients, which nobody dares disturb for fear of incurring his wrath

Becomes obsessed with perfecting the art of making perfectly shaped and flavored jelly desserts. His squad members often find themselves unwilling taste-testers for his latest bizarre jelly concoctions

#bleach #bleach headcanons #bleach fandom #bleach ideas #bleach writing #anime headcanons #bleach yamamoto #bleach shunsui #bleach izuru #bleach hitsugaya #bleach kenpachi #bleach mayuri #yamamoto genryusai #shunsui kyoraku #izuru kira #toshiro hitsugaya #kenpachi zaraki #mayuri kurotsuchi

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 1 year

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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

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would-this-pokemon-be-a-friend · 3 months

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Evolution Line Spotlight: Vulpix and Ninetales (037-038)

There is, obviously, quite a contrast between these two pokémon. Let me just say this right off the bat: if you are a vulpix owner or are looking to adopt one, I would highly recommend not evolving them into a ninetales. The contrast in both safety risk and difficulty of care between the two stages is going to be more than most inexperienced owners could be expected to handle, as I’ll get into in a moment. Thankfully, an accidental evolution is pretty easy to avoid in this case, since vulpixes only evolve when brought into contact with a fire stone; so long as you don’t have fire stones laying around your home, you should be ok.

Anybody who has been reading this blog for a while knows that fire-type pokémon don’t tend to score very high in the pet-viability algorithm. Vulpixes score pretty highly for a few reasons, so I could recommend them to people looking to adopt this tricky type. As mentioned in the vulpix post (linked at the bottom of this one), they don’t have any open flames on their body, making them less of a fire hazard than most. I will caution you, though, that they do exhale flames when they feel like they need to cool off, so a vulpix would be a safer pet for someone who likes to keep their home nice and cool. The species’ friendly, non-violent nature indicates that they would be pretty easy to train, which is good when it comes to any pokémon with fire-type moves that could, you know, burn down a home. Overall, vulpixes would make pretty good pets!

When we turn to ninetales, however, it’s a different story. I really must warn you not to adopt a ninetales as a house pet unless you are an experienced trainer! This species is known in equal parts for their bitter, vindictive attitude and supernatural powers. From their ability to generate and control raging infernos, to their mind control power, to their alleged propensity for dishing out 1000 year curses, risking getting on one’s bad side in any way is a bad idea. No pet owner is perfect! I would not want my cat, who occasionally gets mad if she doesn’t get fed dinner twice, to put a 1000 year curse on me! Added on to all of this is the fact that ninetales are said to have a lifespan of 1000 years. I, like many pet owners, would love for my pet to live forever. When you really think about it, though, a pet that’s almost guaranteed to outlive you is a pet that you need to have a plan for after your death. A ninetales is a high-maintenance pet that you will need to pass down to another person, who then would have to pass it on to someone else, and so on. It would be a massive headache, and opens up plenty of opportunities for your pokémon to get abandoned or left at a shelter that may be ill-equipped for caring for fire-types.

I am a fan of both of these pokémon, but I would never consider adopting a ninetales as a house pet. A vulpix? Sure! I think they’re super cute, and they look like they’d be nice and warm and cuddly. I personally am pretty unlikely to go for a fire-type pokémon though, just because I’m in no financial position to risk a house fire! Call me over-cautious, I guess. Oh, and as an extra note: if you come across a vulpix in the wild, be very careful about approaching them! This is an evolution line where one must be cautious of protective later-stages like ninetales who might attack to protect the younger, less experienced members of their group.

The Vulpix Post:

The Ninetales Post:

#pokémon #pokemon #vulpix #ninetales #pkmn irl

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eliteseven · 1 month

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Absolutely love how you portray Tav and Shadowheart. Would you mind sharing some more domesticity HCs please?? They deserve that peaceful, full of love life so much 😭

🥹💕 thank you so much!!!! Sure, I would love to share a few nuggets of domesticity!

ShadowTav Cottage Domesticity HC’s (pt.2)

-Neither Tav nor Shadowheart have a “green thumb”. I think they’re both better at killing things, given how they’ve both spent the last decade 😅 but I feel like Arnell and Emmeline are just pure magic in the garden. They teach Shadowheart and Tav how to plant, water, compost, prune, and just generally care for the plants and trees. It’s like Emmeline’s little lessons in the kitchen. It’s a sweet way for them all to spend time with each other. Plus, every time Shadowheart’s parents remark that she’s doing something in just the same way she would have as a child, she lights up! 🥰

-Shadowheart and Tav starting a book collection 🥹 Shadowheart’s favorite smutty novels, a collection of Emmeline’s recipes, Tav’s favorite childhood books, writings that they came across in their adventures, books they pick up for each other on trips to Baldur’s Gate. They read together nearly every day. Sometimes, Tav reads while Shadowheart naps in her lap out in fields, under the sun. Sometimes Shadowheart gets a laugh out of her and reads her smutty excerpts while she makes supper in the kitchen.

-I’ve said this before but: Shadowheart particularly takes so much joy in decorating their cottage. Tav had her own quarters in her estate through childhood- but Shadowheart never really remembers a room being hers, let alone a cottage. She wants paintings! Color! Flowers, both alive, and of the dried and pressed variety! Little signs of their shared life together still make her eyes sting with emotion. Her clothes mixed in with Tav’s in the wardrobe (I HC they share everything🥰). Her equipment (sword, armor, etc) hanging beside Tav’s in their display. She never feels alone again. She has a home. She belongs somewhere, to someone, just at they belong to her.

-Shadowheart and Tav doing each other’s hair before bed. Or, perhaps, undoing is the proper term here- but I genuinely think this is a romantic, soft, domestic, meaningful ritual for them both. In days where Shadowheart wears her hair up; Tav lovingly undoes Shadowheart’s hair, part by part, runs her fingers through every silken strand. She rubs at Shadowheart’s scalp, gets her to unwind like a kitten, curling into her touch like she’s the warm afternoon sun. Shadowheart returns the favor- she loves Tav with her hair down. She brushes Tav’s hair and watches the stress of the day melt away from her shoulders. It’s something simple, really, but an act of sheer adoration for them both.

-Cottage maintenance, baby! A particularly bad storm has Tav (who…probably still isn’t the best at tinkering or fixing things bc…why would she be?) sitting on the roof, soaked to the bone, trying to patch a part of the roof that’s given out. Sure, they could put a pail under it and call it a day, but Tav is…Tav. It’s over Arnell and Emmeline’s little guest cottage, and she will be damned if she lets her in-laws sleep in the rain. She…can’t fix it. Not till morning, and not without assistance. But she and Shadowheart offer their room to her parents. Shadowheart comes and finds her in the rain, and I like to think…they just embrace it. Rain and all. It’s freeing. Probably stay out there till who knows when, just taking in the rain, embracing each other. Poetic cinema

-Tav comes a long way with the animals. She’s always liked animals, but I don’t think her past afforded her any chance to really have any pets other than her mount in the military (assuming she had one). It warms Shadowheart’s soul to wake up to Tav quietly whispering to Buttons about how busy their day is going to be, or racing Scratch and the Owlbear to the barn, or singing sweetly to Daphne while she brushes her. But seeing Tav holding the little ones: the kittens, the baby chicks, Buttons when he’s a pup…baby fever!!!!! Has Shadowheart down atrociously 😍

-not exactly a domesticity HC but needs to be said: they still train together. Tav will be damned if she lets her skill with a blade get rusty- especially now that she has a family to protect. Shadowheart, too- wits and blades always sharp, just for a different, kinder goddess now. Now, if they’re both sweaty and worked up and happen to simply jump each other’s bones afterwards, every time…. 😏 I digress

-bittersweet last one here: Tav is a human. Shadowheart will outlive her. She’s well-aware of this fact, and though she is living her best life, she worries for Shadowheart in the future. I’ve been playing with the idea that, every day, when Shadowheart is otherwise occupied, Tav slips away to write her a little note. Like a diary entry, almost- but for Shadowheart. Sometimes they’re brief thoughts, sometimes it’s as simple as telling Shadowheart how ethereal she looked that day, and how much Tav loves her. Tav saves these notes over the years as she compiles them. Hiding them from Shadowheart is one of the hardest things she ever has to do. But…one day, when Shadowheart is aching from the loss and misses her…well, she can open up this journal, or collection of notes, and fall in love with Tav all over again 🥹💕 Tav documents all these sweet little moments of domesticity, and they gain eternal life on that parchment. Shadowheart is free to relive their love and life together as often as she wants. I think she will always be Shadowheart’s home.

#nls series #shadowheart x tav #oc: serena tavyndír #ask #anonymous #bg3 #my hcs

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izumi-fanclub · 6 months

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A3! Event Story Translation “NEW ERA GARDEN” [Chapter 2]

A certain pair reveal the grand prize of the new Fleur Award.

Kazunari

Oh, “New Fleur Award Executive Committee Member” is trending.

Itaru

I didn’t expect something from a video channel.

Kumon Are they gonna announce stuff on the new Fleur Award?

Itaru

Iirc, that one’s still undergoing maintenance.

Banri

Stream should be starting soon.

Yukio

“…”

Reni

“…”

Izumi

Ah, it’s dad and Kamikizaka-san.

Tenma

It’s kinda weird seeing them stand besides each other.

Yukio

“Nice to meet you all on our official video channel. I’m Tachibana, a member of the Fleur Award Executive Committee.”

Reni

“I’m Kamikizaka.”

“On this channel, we’d like to show you our efforts towards a new Fleur Award.”

“Please wait a little bit more as we shall have another formal occasion to go in-depth on the details of the new Fleur Award.”

“So for now, for the new information on our first stream, please watch this video.”

Izumi

Eh!? Is that a theater!?

Kumon

Is it under renovation or being built from the ground up!?

Muku

Oh yeah, I did see some construction on Veludo Way!

Yuki

Ah, that one.

Taichi

You mean that’s a new theater for the new Fleur Award!?

Reni

“We are pleased to announce that we are in the process of building a new theater complete with streaming equipment for the new Fleur Award prize.”

Tasuku

To think they’d build a whole new theater…

Sakyo

Does the fact that there’s equipment for livestreaming mean that the next Fleur Award will be primarily streamed online?

Kazunari

Is that Yukio-san’s idea?

Izumi

Probably…

(MANKAI’s built from dad’s idea after all… This wouldn’t be unlike him.)

(I hope Kamikizaka-san’s not having a hard time with dad’s reckless behavior again…)

Reni

“The seating and exterior are still under construction, it’ll still be some time before the official opening.”

“Though, the foundation of the stage has already been assembled.”

“I shall have Tachibana explain the schedule for the new production which will also be the unveiling of the new theater and rehearsals using the equipment.”

Yukio

“Next month, the new Fleur Award will be on the foundation of the new theater, marking our new beginnings.”

Taichi

Eeeh!?

Izumi

Dad’s making a comeback!?

Yukio

“The livestream will be free of charge as it will serve as a test for the equipment.”

“In regards to the content and the cast, it’s still a secret, so please look forward to it.”

Kumon

Who’s it gonna be?

Kazunari

Maybe it’s the first gen guys?

Banri

It’ll be next month though. Don’t really think they got the schedule for that.

Tsumugi

Maybe they’ve been preparing beforehand.

Sakyo

I wonder. But since it’s Yukio-san, there’s a possibility it was just an on-the-spot idea…

Izumi

(Whatever it is, I’m just excited to see dad working again!)

Yukio

…That’s why!

Kasumi

Yeah!

Hiro Why what?

Zen

…

Syu

…Sigh.

Zen

Just how did you get all of us together, musn’t be a busy season, so it’s whatever…

Kasumi

I’m a part of the work that’s allowed to write an exclusive “Spotlight” feature article on the stage up close.

Yuzo

You were so against it last time, now you just came stumbling in.

Kasumi

Oh shut it. Then and now are different.

Syu

Now how’d a popular actor like you fit this into his schedule?

Hiro

If I got told that I’ll be in a play with the first gen troupe on the stage of the new Fleur Award, it’d be top priority no matter what.

The agency’s got a lot of buzz lately so I managed to make some adjustments. What about your own theater company, Syu-san? Syu

I’ve got some young talent I got my eye on, so I asked that person to take over the role for next month’s show. And Reiji?

Reni

As a board member, I don’t really have a choice but to take it on.

Yukio

Looks like Yuzo’s the only one participating comfortably.

Yuzo

I’m right here you know!

Yukio

Thanks, everyone. I’m really happy that we can do theater together again like this.

Yuzo

What are you planning on now that we’re all here?

Hiro

A remake of an old show?

Yukio

Fufu, you’d be surprised. It’s a new show… on Shinsengumi!

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wikipedia-main · 9 months

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i think there's the idea that fishtanks are really expensive and hard to take care of but there are lots of ways to set up tanks that aren't like that- even if you often kill things or have difficulty remembering to care for them ! and im bored right now so im just gonna, write about how you can do that

what you'd need:

a glass or acrylic tank

dirt & sand

rocks, driftwood, & other decor (optional)

heater, filter, light

plants

testing equipment

you can get a tank for really cheap off facebook marketplace or craigslist or ebay! and you can use just about any dirt, as long as it doesn't have pesticides/herbicides (unfertilized organic garden soil is great). sand is easy to find at pet stores, but it's expensive--you can get silicate play sand or pool filter sand for cheaper (just make sure it doesn't have calcium in it). you can test rocks you find on the ground for tank safety with vinegar- if it bubbles, then it'll leach calcium (undesirable, messes with water parameters) and if it doesn't, it's fine to use ! (if you're worried about Things on them, you can boil them for a few minutes.)

heaters, filters, and lights tend to be cheap if you just go for rudimentary adjustable ones. you can get shop lights and an outlet timer at any department store. plus if you know an aquarium hobbyist, chances are they'll have extras

same thing with plants, too ! if there's an aquarium hobby group near you then that's a great way to get free stuff. tanks are like little gardens so there's usually lots of plant clippings that would otherwise get thrown out. plus, free creatures that hitchhike on them !!!

another super cool way to get rocks, sand, dirt, wood, leaves, plants etc is to just ! go to a stream or lake ! preferably one that's distanced from roads and you know isn't super polluted. i picked up some water cress off the side of a hiking trail and now i have a really cute sprawling thing growing that i got FOR FREE!!!!!

testing equipment is gonna be expensive, but it's often a one-time purchase. liquid tests are more time consuming than paper strips, but more accurate. you might also need dechlorinator (more-so if your tap is treated with chloramine; chlorine evaporates but chloramine doesn't) (you can find that out by looking up your local water treatment report). other small items that r helpful: plastic tubes/hoses for siphoning water in/out, pipettes, tweezers, tiny scissors, buckets, and (depending on ur tank) liquid fertilizer, root tabs, and mineral mixes.

what's cool about this: setting up a tank with a layer of dirt covered by sand (you can do 1 inch dirt + 2 inches sand or 1.5 inches dirt + 1 inch sand) and then adding a bunch of plants will make a tank that needs less maintenance !! if you get the water parameters stable and have a good amount of plants and tiny creatures (worms crustaceans etc), then lots of fish (not all though) will be healthy and can mind their own better !! it's a balance ofc but once you strike it suddenly you can go a month without looking at it and nothing changes. life is beautiful

anyway thats!!! it. i love you <3

#fuck this is a lot of words #fishblr #fishkeeping #beginner fishkeeping #i could talk about this literally all day so if anyone wants me to elaborate: hiiiiiiii

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leiandroid · 2 years

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otayuri week | day six - crossover (harry potter)

at first i was like hmm, hogwarts au? but then i realised…wtf? they would absolutely go to durmstrang. this resulted in me coming up with a lot of durmstrang headcanons that i now believe are 100% to be true. another wall of text under the cut :o)

@otayuriweek22

yuri is in the house of the wolverine, and otabek is in the house of the ucilena.

OK..... honestly, i made up my own houses and called them 'parties' and gave each of them values before i literally just now searched 'durmstrang' to check something and google auto-completed 'durmstrang houses' and i was like oh...?....ok..?..why the F did the other source i was looking at ALL WEEK not mention them!? oh well.... sharing my original HCs anyway that aren't too far off:

to keep in line with the houses theme, but unlike hogwarts, durmstrang has "parties" and each party is represented by an animal: wolf, bear, tiger, and walrus.

the party of the wolf values intelligence, resourcefulness, camaraderie, and passion.

the party of the bear values dedication, strength, discipline, and patience. (beka)

the party of the tiger values courage, determination, ambition, and independence. (yuri)

the party of the walrus values confidence, loyalty, steadfastness, and humour.

since durmstrang specialises in martial magic, it operates like a military school. each party has responsibilities that include farming, cleaning, cooking, animal care, gardening, medical training, physical exercise, armoury maintenance, etc. these responsibilities are distributed between the parties, and rotate every semester.

all students dorm together regardless of parties (only separated by sex and year of admission). parties have weekly activities and each party has their own assembly hall. the rooms are decorated with the paraphernalia of their representing animal. the rooms are like study/conference halls; equipped with an elevated podium each, desks, chairs, and mini-library that outline party activities, their decree, history, and responsibilities to durmstrang. they are used for assigning responsibilities, organising events, disciplinary hearings, and can also be used as study rooms.

to enter a party, new students have to go through a week of trials that include things like wizard duels, going through obstacle courses, physical duress, magical showcase, etc. there is no winning or losing in the trials. first years are observed and assessed by representatives and heads of each party, then go into a vote over which student goes where.

the first week of the year (orientation, trials, and festivities) is a week to welcome new first years and to initiate them into parties. the 6th years are responsible for guiding the first years and being their mentors throughout the academic year and help them if they need it. this is to prepare them to become responsible and dependable adults when they leave the school.

with 6th years being at the top of the hierarchy, every student has some basic authority over all those below them in year, with the first years having none.

at the end of the first week, a ceremony is held in the dining hall where first years are welcomed to their parties and are awarded medals and pins for their performance in the trials of their representing party that they must wear with their uniform at all times. the ceremony is followed by a banquet of fatty meats, hot breads, flaky sweet pastries and a celebratory shot of strong spirits to kick off the year of education and magical excellence.

viktor (also a wolverine) was a 6th year that was responsible over yuri during his first year. yuri hated him and viktor loved to be hated by yuri and made sure to be as overbearing and annoying to him knowing that yuri couldn't talk back or act up, lest he be submitted to disciplinary hearings in the wolverine's den (it didn't stop him and he attended many hearings).

when viktor graduated, yuri cheered the loudest, happy that viktor was finally fucking off forever.

now, yuri is a 4th year and otabek is a 5th year.

otabek excels in alchemy, arithmancy and ancient runes. herbology is his worst subject.

yuri excels in the dark arts (and defense of), charms, and transfiguration. arithmancy is his worst subject.

yuri is a talented duelist.

otabek is skilled in physical prowess and use of magical weapons.

they are both quidditch players, otabek is a beater for the ucilena and yuri is a seeker for the wolverines.

otabek and yuri became friends in yuri's 3rd year after a quidditch match in which ucilena beat the wolverines due to yuri sustaining a major concussion after being bludgeoned by the bludger that otabek had batted his way. at the medical wing, otabek had visited him to check up on him after feeling guilty for hitting him with such a heavy blow. he said that yuri's expression before the match was like he was going to war, that his eyes set in stone like a soldier's. this had emboldened him to play as best as he could, to win. (he sheepishly added a quick apology). yuri scoffed and told him "don't apologise for winning, asshole" then passed out as the medicinal potions did their work. they become fast friends.

otabek's favourite snacks are snapfire seeds. he enjoys blowing out flames after cracking the seeds, and they have the bonus of providing a nice warmth during the frigid cold of the winter months.

yuri is an incorrigible prankster that likes to torment his juniors with charms and transfiguration spells. he likes casting harmless but annoying short term hexes.

yuri's pet is a siberian cat and otabek's is an osprey (the animals despise each other).

otabek is a pureblood, the altin family being a respected wizarding family of kazakhstan

yuri is a muggleborn. nikolai was very distraught finding out yuri was magical when he caught yuri floating objects in his room. he quickly learned of the magical world and the feelings turned to fierce pride after being told that yuri was especially gifted. as a child yuri would use his magic to impress and entertain his grandfather.

from the yoi verse only the russian speaking characters would be associated with durmstrang (and emil, possibly). though i haven't really thought too far into their roles. yakov would probably be principal. lilia perhaps a famous witch or the charms teacher. mila another student.

georgi maybe (definitely) a lovesick divination teacher whose sight and prophecies largely center love. maybe there's a funny scene with him seeing something in yuri's future, that heavily alludes to otabek, which flusters yuri to no end and he vehemently denies. because in this verse there is a lot of god awful pining from either side.

#otayuri #otayuriweek #otabek altin #yuri plisetsky #yuri on ice #otayuriweek22 #harry potter au #my art #leiandroid #this day's prompt i struggled to pick the most #i wanted to do some funny miscommunication but i couldn't come up with anything funny #but then i was like HOL UP #now im obsessed with the idea of magical boyfriends

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archoniluthradanar · 1 year

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A Day in the Garden with Marcus Volturi

Response to a request by @marcusofthevolturi

The weather was gorgeous in Volterra today, yet the Volturi master, Marcus, was not in an appropriate mood. Today was the anniversary of Didyme's death, something he'd never forgotten over the past hundreds of years.

When you pass him in the corridor, you notice his despondency, which seems worse than ever. As the only human allowed to live in the castle as companion and social liaison for the vampires, you hate to see Marcus sad, especially about something that happened so long ago. But you know vampires tend to suffer intense depression if they lose their mates.

"Marcus," you call out. "Where are you off to?"

"Good day, child. I'm going to the garden to see to my roses."

You think it might be nice to get outside and see the garden. The Volturi have professional gardeners, but they are forbidden to touch the bed of roses planted alongside the castle's southern wall. That is Marcus' small garden, and only he may care for it. "Mightn't I come with you? It's so lovely out."

Marcus doesn't really feel like company, but since he likes and trusts you, he acquiesces. "Of course, my dear. We will need to fetch a few supplies from the gardeners' storage room.

You walk together in silence to the room located two floors down. Once there, Marcus helps you choose gardening aprons and tools needed. Marcus looks over at you and smiles. He is feeling better about having someone to garden with. None of the other vampires care about the maintenance of the garden.

You both go outside, carrying the equipment you will need. When Marcus puts down all the gardening tools at the side of the rose bed, you marvel at the beauty of the multi-coloured blooms. The smell is sweet and delightful. Leaning forward, you barely touch one of the pink roses, inhaling the scent. "It's beautiful, Marcus. They're all beautiful."

He practically grins broadly, happy in your praise of one of the few things he cares about. "Thank you, child. I am proud of this garden. It's dedicated to Didyme, you know. This rose here, I named after her." He held a pink bloom gently in his fingers, inhaling the fragrance. He closed his eyes, remembering his beloved mate.

You both get to work, and under Marcus' instructions, he shows you how to prune the old blooms. While you are loathe to pick off any aphids, he doesn't mind that task. If killing a human means so little to them, killing a bug is nothing. You're just grateful they love you enough not to want to kill you.

"Oh, Marcus, look at this rose. The colour is gorgeous!" You peer down at a bush that carries pure white roses that have a light blush- pink closer to the center of the blooms.

"Ah, yes. I created that one myself, by blending cuttings of a Full Sail white rose and a Queen Elizabeth pink rose." He admired the blooms on the bush, happy the experiment had worked so well.

"You like pink roses, Marcus?" you ask.

"The pink flowers were Didyme's favourite. I grow them in remembrance of her."

Suddenly, a bee begins to chase you, and you run around screaming while waving your arms.

Marcus is confused, but sees what is scaring you into making so much noise. He can't help but smile at your antics. "Stop running," he tells you. "You're only making it angry."

You run to Marcus and stand behind him, your arms around his waist. Hiding from the bee seemed the best course of action. Bees could never hurt Marcus.

The tall master smiles at your fear, but tries to help you by swatting the bee.

"Don't kill it!" you shout, knowing bees are endangered insects.

Marcus laughs at your sudden compassion for the hapless bee. Using his quick reflexes, he flicks the bee over the wall, watching as it flies away. "All gone," he says, his arms around you, steadying you.

You laugh, thanking Marcus for being our savior. He bows to you ever so gallantly, then you both laugh.

Aro happens to have heard voices and looks down from his office window into the garden. Watching you and Marcus seemingly enjoying the day and each other's company, he is amused by the laughter coming from both of you.

Aro initially wondered about you as a human female who joined their ranks by accident, and how you would fit in. You begged him not to kill or change you, and to allow you to do something for them. He had decided they needed someone who could intercede for them with other humans, teach them modern ways, and be a companion to them.

At the time. you had wondered if that meant indulging them sexually, but so far, aside from occasional teasing, none had asked you for sexual favours. Sometimes, when you were feeling your oats, you wished they would. If Aro had read this, he never said anything.

Aro did wonder if perhaps you would be a suitable mate for his despondent brother. There was no instant pull, but perhaps something could happen to increase your feelings for one another. He knew that you would probably not be averse to such a connection.

Back in the garden, you and Marcus continue caring for the roses, pulling out a hose to water them once the pruning had been completed. Then you both gathered the equipment to return it all to the storage room lest the gardeners rail at everyone within earshot, angering Caius.

Once that has been done, you and Marcus go back inside. But before Marcus lets you go, he removes a perfect pink rose from inside his shirt and hands it to you. He kisses your cheek, and leaves you watching him walk away, a smile on your face. You inhale the scent of the rose and return to your room.

#marcus volturi #the volturi #aro volturi #marcus volturi x reader #volturi fanfiction #Summer fun #vampire gardener

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feralforfruit · 2 years

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The Garden {Part 2}

♡︎Go read the other parts from my masterlist♡︎

Warnings: gun/knife violence and mentions of blood.

Pairings: Ladybug, Lemon, Tangerine, and Yuichi x fem!reader.

You wake up to an alarm and you get up to walk into the next room where you do most of the Hivemind work. You grab your iced coffee from the mini fridge before you sit down at your setup. You turn on the huge PC that is decorated with photos of you and the boys on multiple screens. It lights up a bright yellow in the back which causes the room to follow suit in the hue. You put on your headset and get to work.

You knew the men would have arrived at their destination by then. You text the group chat to let them know you are up and ready to go. Ladybug texts a thumbs up as a signal to connect all your earpieces to be able to communicate through the mission. You turn the devices all on, “Hey boys! You guys got there alright?”

“We’re doing okay, BB. We are outside of the HQ right now,” said Ladybug.

“This shit looks like a goddamn fortress, darling. Gonna be a tough one, innit?” Tangerine says in disbelief.

“Just how you like them, Tang.” you smile to yourself, “First what you guys have to do is get to the back fence. There should be an opening big enough for you to fit yourselves and all the equipment without getting seen. You should use the trash bins when you enter to stash anything you might need to escape.”

“What if someone takes out the trash, though, what then?” Lemon asks.

“They won’t. They have very particular hours of taking out the trash and this shouldn’t take you up to 8pm now, should it?” you chuckle softly while looking at the daylight from your window.

“Let’s go. We should not waste time.” Yuichi mutters to them. “I want to get out of this as soon as possible.” He motions to his overall look. He has a much dapper look than usual to seem like he is a professional yakuza associate.

“Oh but I want pics of your sexy get-up before it gets potentially ruined. You didn’t let me see it before you left.” you pout.

He scoffs, “Hachi, don’t.” You giggle in response knowing you pushed him a bit.

“Alright, fellas. It’s showtime.” Ladybug says as all make their way toward the broken fence. They bend their bodies halfway to get through as you say, “You guys see a gray door straight ahead? It should have a helipad sign on it.”

“Yes, ma’am. Picking the lock now.” Ladybug manages to quickly get the door unlocked as Lemon and Tangerine stash the extra weapons as you advised.

Ladybug starts to zip up his jumpsuit, getting ready for action. “Now, BB, how did you manage to get the maintenance guy’s uniform? Did you order it?”

“Oh, lovebug, you underestimate me. We have had this plan for months and you thought I wouldn’t have the actual maintenance man taken care of. How did you think I knew his whole schedule and how the routine check-up works?” you say while taking a sip of your iced coffee.

“Wow, our Bumblebee has a stinger,” Lemon says. “Damn, right, handsome.” You smooch as he chuckles in response.

The boys make their way up to the third floor of the stairs and right before they open the door you say, “Wait, guys, remember this layout. The left side of the corridor is where Yuichi has to escort Ladybug to the computer. On the right side is where Lemon and Tangerine need to sneak through to get to the last door on the left where Kuro Akuji, the yakuza chairman, is currently setting up the deal with the subordinate family of his clan. They know that there are people trying to get this deal to cease its plans of kicking civilians out of their town just so they can expand their empire with a shiny, new money-grab casino. Even people in his own clan aren’t too happy about it so there are going to be guards roaming through that hall so try to be as quiet as possible. Be invisible, even.”

“Got it, poppet,” Tangerine says as clicks out his knife before opening the door and peeking out to make sure the coast is clear for them to split up. He nods and the pairs go their separate ways. Lemon and Tangerine walk a few feet before needing to turn a corner and take a glimpse of the hallway that is full of a bunch of huge men in suits having a chat outside the doors of the meeting. “Bollocks.” They say quietly at the same time. “BB, how much are we getting paid for this again?” Lemon asks in whispers.

“The informer offered 3 million for Akuji’s death along with everyone else in the room who is involved,” you say while reading out the terms on a tab of your encrypted emails.

Yuichi frowns while still walking through empty hallways with Ladybug. “Just to kill him? What has the computer got to do with it?” he asks.

“Oh that is a mystery mouse ka-tool that is going to help us later,” you smile to yourself. “Just stay focused and make sure you go to the black door at the end of the hallway that has a number 3 on it.”

He shakes his head and decides to not ask any more questions. Yuichi then finally spots the door you said and he looks at Ladybug before taking a sigh. He knocks three times before a tall man with bleached hair and a similar dark suit to Yuichi’s answers the door. He seems to have an intimidating ever-present frown that most large men in the yakuza always wear as a part of their uniform.

Ladybug stands there, awkwardly smiling and lifting his toolbox up as Yuichi is explaining their presence to the associate. The man lifts his eyebrow before opening the door giving them room for entry.

“Good boys. Now, Ladybug all you have to do is follow the steps I showed you the other day. Unscrew the computer’s casing and then remove all the parts so you can look like you’re replacing the PC’s fan. Snatch the original motherboard before replacing it with the extra one.” you explain before switching your attention, “Fruits, are you guys doing, alright?”

“Just fucking dandy, darling,” Tangerine says out of breath as he grunts while he slices the last huge guard in the hallway.

“Still need to get to the Diesel, luv, but we got this.” Lemon states before grabbing a sword that is laying on the floor beside a large suited body. Tangerine looks to his brother and says, “Time for a Tail Tack, innit?” Lemon pats his shoulder and responds excitedly, “Shit, bruv, we haven’t done that in ages!”

Tangerine kicks open the door to the meeting and the twins run in shooting and slicing in direction, back up against the other to keep from throwing shots at each other. Bodies hit the ground like coins out of a pocket and not a single one with a second to process taking out their weapons. The two men take a look towards the center of the room and blow a few more shots toward the most important person in the room.

Thankfully, all the commotion isn’t heard from the opposite side of the floor, where Ladybug is finishing his work of grabbing the motherboard. Yuichi asks the associates for a lighter trying to act casual while distracting them from the final pieces of Ladybug’s movements.

Ladybug finally closes up the computer case and then gathers his tools before standing up. Yuichi notices and then makes his way up towards the exit while bidding farewell to those in the room not trying to make eye contact with the large bleached-haired man as he opens the door. Ladybug follows close behind saying his best Japanese goodbyes. They both release a breath like they’ve been holding it the whole time there as they walk back towards the same place they exited.

They meet two blood-covered twins halfway with and stare at them with raised eyebrows. “You bastards act as if you didn’t expect this,” Tangerine says annoyed at their reaction before opening the door to the stairs aggressively.

“Are all my boys together and in one piece?” you smile feeling proud of how smooth your plan played out. “Yes, we are close to the exit,” Yuichi says.

“Oh my god, am I actually going to see Yuichi come back with that delicious suit?” you ask before biting your lip at the thought.

“Not before you hose down the fruits before letting them back inside The Garden.” Ladybug cringes at the thought of needing to get the inside of the car cleaned as they crawl out of the hole in the fence. “You try looking proper when you have to fucking blow some bellend's brains out for 3 million fucking dollars!” Tangerine states aggressively as he hops into the driver's seat making their quick escape in hopes no one follows them.

“I'm sure it isn't anything I haven't seen from them before. As long as my boys come back to me still breathing, I don’t care what I have to do. But I will make it my own personal mission to see sexy Yakuza Yuichi in front of me before I deal with the twins.” you chuckle as you keep track of the traffic cameras, making sure that no one is following their location.

The boys arrive safely and you get a notification of the deposit from the informer in The Garden’s bank account just a few minutes after confirming the mission’s completion. Ladybug hops out of the car still in his disguise, with the toolbox in his hand. He opens it and passes you the motherboard. Your smile wides as he hands it to you and you give him a quick peck on the cheek. Yuichi gets out of the car and you walk up to him as soon as you notice him. You took out your phone and take a photo immediately as you squeal like a fangirl.

“You look so fucking hot! I’m so sorry, but I am going to plan more jobs that require you to be in more sexy ass suits.” you run your hand down his tie, admiring the details.

Yuichi can’t help but chuckle lightly at all the attention you’re giving him despite his aversion to the idea. “I can’t say no to you, Hachi. You know that,” he says while stroking your hair softly.

“Thank you for looking this handsome so we could have the motherboard,” you say while looking up at him sweetly.

“Why is it so important, anyway?” Yuichi asks.

“It is important because this will give us access to all the intel that Kuro Akiji’s clan had on the area they claimed to be theirs. Secret houses, plans, or info on their members that his associates held in one computer to keep things running properly in the organization. We can be one step ahead of all the yakuza’s operations. Plus, it runs insanely fast and has a large amount of space for me to do the same in The Hivemind. They had the best computer modders in the city optimize it to perfection so it has all that and more for me to play with. So, basically, you guys have acquired one of the best systems that could only be found in the black market with the same price value as what we made from just killing Akuji. Neat, huh?” They look at you in astonishment as you explained.

“You, Bumblebee, are fucking brilliant,” Lemon says. “And you, my Lemon drop, need a fucking shower. And so do you, Tang. Come on, let's go to the backyard so I can hose you, cuties, down.” You snap twice and point for them to walk to the back gate with haste.

* .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

A/N: Sorry, it has been a minute since I felt the urge to get my ideas flowing! I was really needing a day to feel like I could give you guys this sweet little bit of their dynamic on the job and today was finally that. I had fun writing this one and even though it isn't really smutty or even remotely steamy, the thoughts of how they would work together made me smile. I hope you all feel the same way.

#bullet train #tangerine #tangerine fic #tangerine bullet train #yuichi bullet train #bullet train imagine #bullet train fic #ladybug fic #ladybug #ladybug bullet train #lemon bullet train #lemon fic #yuichi fic #yuichi kimura #lemon and tangerine #bullet train x reader #my writing #the garden

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