#and then i will go to prison for my crimes never to be seen again. But Until Then. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shiny-jr · 1 year

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damnation (peek I?)

Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Ace Trappola, Trey Clover, Cater Diamond, Riddle Rosehearts.

Summary: When you commit a crime, you receive a punishment. This is especially true in your society. No matter the crime, your punishment is the same: banishment. But to where you will be sent in exile and how miserable will it be? No one knows, because no one has ever returned.

Note: So, as mentioned in previous posts, this is only a snippet of what is to come in a project I’m working on. I just wanted to do something for my followers since we have surpassed the milestone that is 4,000 hearts, which is huge. So thank you! Unfortunately, I don’t really have time for a special like I’ve done before where I accept requests since I’ve been so busy with irl stuff and the current twst quiz project. So here’s a small bit of what you can hopefully expect. Remember, I may or may not change things, so what you see now may not be the same later in the final result. That being said, I’m sorry I couldn’t provide much else besides peeks at three of the seven results. I still have a LOT more to write. Like, a ton. But I hope you all look forward of what is to come. Added: Deleted the Scarabia and Pomefiore part to create their own sneak-peeks later.

I . . . II . . . III . . . IV . . . V . . . VI . . . VII

First there will be questions you must answer. Questions that I will not reveal in this sneak-peek, but based on the answers you give to those questions, you will receive a result with a story. This post is a peek at some of those stories/results. Important things to keep in mind that you learn from the questions:

The mc is deemed a criminal in their society.

All criminals in this society are banished, no matter how insignificant or significant the crime may be.

This particular society makes a show of banishment, to make others fear this fate. Which mc recalls seeing trials on tv about past criminals.

All criminals are never seen or heard from again. No one knows for certain what happens to them, but most assume death.

Although the most popular fantastical theory is that criminals become henchmen for infamous evil-doers, and receive punishment there that may range from anywhere like a violent painful death to spending eternity in some tiny horrid prison.

THE RED QUEEN

Robes. You were wearing robes of the finest quality that weighed heavily on your shoulders. This surface you laid on felt... nice. Soft, nothing like the hard bench of the prison cell. As you sat up and recalled your current dire situation, you felt a sense of dread loom overhead like a thick blanket of gray clouds. Immediately, fearfully, you scanned your surroundings. Everything was painted red, there was so much red velvet. The floors were polished checkered black and white and the furniture, if not completely red, was crafted of finely carved wood. It was fancy here. Safe, for now. Wherever this place was.

There was something hefty on your head, only noticing its weight settling on your skull as you moved to stand up from the crimson red sheets on the king-sized mattress. As you removed the item from your head, you were perplexed to see a small golden crown and a heart-shaped staff beside the spot you had laid on. Wait just a moment... red everywhere? A fancy setting? A crown and a heart-shaped staff? Rapidly you dashed over to the mirror just beside the bed, gasping at your appearance.

You were dressed just like royalty. And not just any royalty, like a king. A king of red with a heart-shaped staff... Just like the meek king that was married to the ruthless Queen of Hearts from the fairytales. So it was true, criminals were often sent to dangerous tales where they would perish. And you... you were a criminal and you were here, but... you were the king. How did the story go again?

The Red Queen, or Queen of Hearts, ruled over Wonderland with an iron fist. She would behead anyone who got in her way, and her reign terrorized the residents of the realm. That is, until Alice fell down a hole and arrived in Wonderland. She would eventually free this land from the oppressive rein of the queen. As for the king... what happened to him again? He didn't really appear in the story. You wracked your memory for an answer, when the horrid realization came to you. The Red Queen had been so terribly jealous and suspected that her husband was cheating, that she had him beaded! His head left to rot as it floated in a river of blood, surrounded by the heads of other victims, and the king's lifeless skull still with the crown. He had died before Alice even arrived in Wonderland!

You clutched your neck, grimacing at the thought of your own detached head, crown still attached, doomed to sail in a moat of blood. It made you sick to your stomach just thinking about it. There had to be a way to prevent your death, or at least stall for time, but how? The king couldn't just up and run away! People would take notice immediately, someone would inform the queen, and you'd be a goner for sure! But then what? You couldn't kill her either, could you...? It certainly was an idea. You would be doing a favor for the rest of Wonderland too...

THUMP!

Abruptly the doors flew open, nearly causing you to shriek. But you managed to hold your tongue as you quickly placed your crown back on and clutched your staff. When your eyes focused on the door, you were surprised and almost relieved to see the figure of a short young man that had slammed the doors open. He was... rather adorable, actually. It caused you to tilt your head, endeared by his appearance.

The young man had hair that shamed the red roses, and wide gray eyes. As soon as his eyes landed on you, however, his face grew flush and his expression twisted into one of rage. Immediately he slammed the doors shut behind him, stomping up to you, his heels violently clicking against the tiled floors. When the short young man was in your face, another horrible realization dawned on you. With that crown on his head and his wondrous red garbs, this could only be the queen. Or at least, someone meant to be the red queen.

“You knave! Where have you been lurking?!”

“I…” You were at a loss for words. What were you supposed to say? What was the king even doing before you got here? Most importantly, how would you avoid the queen’s wrath?

At your lack of a response, he only seemed to grow more frustrated as he threw wild accusations, “You–– You’ve been sneaking about, seducing the men of my court, haven’t you?! I shall have your head––!”

“Wha–– N-No, I haven’t!” You blurted out. The king was originally beheaded because the queen was jealous and thought she would lose him to others. So if you could assure him that your heart belonged to him, well… survival just might be possible. Although acting wasn’t necessarily your strong point, you could only try for the sake of living another day. Nervously you smiled, throwing aside your staff as you lifted your hands to gently hold his fist he had been angrily waving near your face. Thank god he didn’t have a knife or anything of the sort, or you feared he may have tried to stab you out of raging envy. “How could I ever dare to throw my loyalty to you away…? You are amazing…! I apologize sincerely if I haven’t been able to express my love for you properly. S-Sometimes it feels like you’re really too much for my heart to handle, you in all your… glory…!” Oh god, this was going terribly. All you could do to give the messy act a bow to top it off, was lean your head down and hesitantly kiss the back of his hand.

Miraculously, that seemed to work. Almost. The queen’s face was no longer as flushed, but he gazed down at you as you lingered at his hand. Suspicion was still evident in his eyes. “How do I know?”

“H-Huh…?”

“How do I know you aren’t lying? How do I know you won’t leave me as well? How do I know that you still love me? Prove it to me.” Those gray eyes of his watched you carefully, seemingly unhappy with your lack of a response. After about five seconds of no answer, his face scrunched up and he bellowed, “Guards!! Gua–– mmph!”

Not knowing what else to do, you kissed him. He wanted a sign of devotion, right? Oh god, this was it. Your death was here and now. You had no other way to shut him up. If you covered his mouth with your hands, you were a goner. If you attacked him, you were a goner. If you tried to continue reasoning, you were still a goner! You can’t believe that this was how you died, having to kiss a stranger as your last desperate attempt to live. Well, he wanted a sign. You were ready for him to push you off and armored guards come running in to drag you to the guillotine, when the most unexpected thing happened. He froze, he didn’t fight back or scream bloody murder.

When you slowly pulled away, you were stunned. His face was flush again, but for an entirely different reason other than anger. There was a dazed look on his face, and it almost looked as if he wanted to do it again judging by how he gazed longingly at your lips. It was then you understood that your reckless decision making might’ve just saved your neck.

The red ruler frowned, but you were unsure if it was because he was unsatisfied with something or if it were for another reason entirely. This time, when he opened his mouth, he spoke softly, as if still dazed. “You scoundrel… How dare you play with my heart like this? I should still take your head for that.” You gulped, but he continued. “But… I truly didn’t want to get rid of you. So I’m glad we can avoid that now. I expect to see you well away from the noblemen.”

“Y-Yes… Your Majesty.”

At your obedient response, he smiled and patted your head. “Good.” Taking one step closer, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss against your cheek. He lingered there for a few moments, before taking one step back.

The action left you flustered, embarrassed, because not only had you kissed a stranger but they had kissed you in return. And not only that, this crimson ruler believed you were his partner, the king! Under normal circumstances, you would’ve considered yourself lucky to land in such a position since the king has so much power and wealth. But in this type of situation, you can only shudder to think of what may come next and what would’ve become of you. Because these were no ordinary circumstances, and this was no normal kind ruler.

“Come along now. I don’t want you alone, do you understand?”

“Yes… Your Majesty.”

He beckoned you towards the very doors he entered from, and when he opened them, you were met with another character. It was a tall man with glasses and short messy dark green hair. Immediately he bowed to the queen, but when his eyes landed on you, he looked as if he saw a ghost.

“Change of plans, Trey. We will not be beheading my dear today. Nor tomorrow, I think. They’ve become quite affectionate, so my doubts have been dismissed.”

“O-Of course, Your Majesty…” The glass-wearing man, Trey, glanced over at you with disbelief, but he looked a bit relieved, it’s as if he wanted to say something. But he opted to hold his tongue and instead shifted his gaze forward as he walked beside the red-haired royal. “There is still that soldier imprisoned that displeased you.”

“Ah yes, the one that claimed to see those messy blonde locks but failed to capture our lost wanderer. Bring him to me in the throne room.” Just then he glanced at you as you walked a bit behind him, “My dear, you must be there with me. This should be quite the spectacle. I will see you in a moment.”

“A-As you say, Your Majesty…” You replied stiffly.

He frowned and stopped in his tracks before grabbing your collar and bringing your face closer to his. What you half expected was a sharp knife against your throat, something that would kill you, but there was no such thing. There was only his sharp gaze and disappointed tone. “You’re supposed to respond with: my dear. Not Your Majesty, not Rosehearts, but perhaps I’ll allow Riddle for now. Do you understand, dearest?”

So his name was Riddle. Judging by Riddle’s tone, he wasn’t angry, but rather irked that all the sweetness from earlier was now gone. Proceeding, you chose your words carefully as you attempted to smile as convincingly as possible, “Y-Yes, of course, anything you say, Riddle, my darling.”

At your words his cheeks became a pink hue before he let go of you and cleared his throat, quickly turning away and proceeding forward towards the end of the hall where he had whatever duties to fulfill. So you were left with Trey, his subordinate. The calm tall man’s shoulders sagged once the royal left, all the tension seemingly evaporating from his body. When he gave you a somewhat soft smile, your worries ceased for the moment as well. “I’m glad you’re still intact. I was certain you were a goner.” He was… nice? “You need to be more careful. I don’t know what you did to change Riddle’s mind, but he was ready to behead you himself. You know how he keeps that huge battle ax under his bed. He mentioned something about using that, and I thought he was going to use it to chop your head clean off.”

Oh god. That little guy was going to do that? That stupid kiss really did save your skin. “Heh, I’m still a little shaken…” Wait, you were supposed to be acting like the king! What did the king even act like? How were you supposed to know? He never even lived long enough to make it into the story! “I, um, am very appreciative towards your concern… Trey.”

Trey appeared a bit surprised but he then smiled once more at you. “We’ll talk more later. Right now, we have a situation on our hands.”

What kind of situation? You didn’t even have time to ask when Trey led you down the checkered hall to an opening behind velvet red curtains which were the entrance directly to the large elegant throne room. There, you saw another stranger talking animatedly to the less-than-pleased-looking Rosehearts. This stranger had orange hair that brushed against his lower neck, and he had much more enthusiasm than those you had encountered thus far.

“Dear, there you are.” Instantly Riddle visibly brightened up as he gestured to the soft smaller heart-shaped throne beside his much larger grand seat. “Come, sit, we’re currently discussing the important matters at hand. Such as the dilemma with our prisoner. Cater, continue.”

When this Cater, fellow’s, green eyes trailed over to you, they became filled with surprise as he fumbled over his words, “Huh–– O-Oh! Right!” Forcing his gaze back on the red-haired royal, he began explaining, “There’s nothing really new to talk about, Your Majesty! I mean, seriously, this rookie was just the unlucky one that happened to see that blondie Ellis. According to him when I went to question him, he just said that he saw the guy in blue and when he went to confront him, Ellis escaped with some purple beastman!”

“Purple beastman…?” For a mere moment he appeared perplexed, when quickly the dots began to connect in his mind as he gasped, “Chen’ya! Why, the nerve of that––!”

When you saw his face begin to heat up again and a look of anger crossed his face, you slowly placed your hand over his arm that rested on the armrest of the throne. Then, he froze, everyone else, Trey, Cater, the few servants, the many armored guards in the room, they all were wide-eyed at what you had done. You had touched the queen when they were about to enter a fit of rage! You messed up–– Shit––

Riddle released a slow breath before placing his other hand atop your own. You felt such a massive flood of relief knowing you made the right move when he appeared much calmer as he nodded his head toward you, “Thank you, my dear. We shall discuss a proper punishment for that wretched feline later. For now…” Instantly his voice did a one-eighty as he turned his head toward the two imposing doors and shouted, “Bring him!!”

Nervously you looked over at Trey who stood tall and upright by Riddle’s side, and he remained oddly focused on the door. And that orange-haired guy, Cater, where did he go…?

“Hey…!”

Your eyes flittered over to you right where Cater was bent over a bit to whisper in your ear, while everyone else was distracted by the prisoner being escorted inside.

“I’m so happy that you’ve alive…! Don’t go dying on me so quickly, ‘kay? You wouldn’t leave me all alone here, would you?”

“Uh… no, of course not.” Huh. This Cater guy seemed pretty close to the king, or now you actually.

When you averted your eyes to the front, you listened to the clacking of armor as you watched more soldiers bring forward one of their own. Yet unlike all the others masked by metal, this soldier in shackles didn’t have a helmet. His messy red hair stuck out every which way, which made you wonder how on earth he even managed to fit that mess of hair under a helmet at all. His eyes were glued to the floor, and he wore a stiff frown as his shackles rattled with every step he took until he was right before the steps leading up to the red royal. When he refused to kneel, he was pushed down to his knees as Riddle eyed him with disdain.

Riddle wasted no time, because as soon as this prisoner was on his knees, he began his tirade of questions. “Ace Trappola, was it? We know you saw Ellis. Do you know where he is?”

The soldier’s head lolled forward a bit, his warm-colored eyes stopping on you for a moment as you gazed back at him. In a way, this Ace reminded you of… well, you. In shackles, forced to kneel, in front of a higher authority that was obviously not particularly fond of you, and likely with a sentence that could only mean your doom ahead of you. In a way, you did feel for him after hearing the basis of why he was arrested.

All was silent, only his shackles could be heard again as he slowly shrugged and snapped back, “I’d like to know that too! I mean, I’m sure wherever he is, he’s free as a bird. Meanwhile, me? Locked up for trying to do my job––!”

“Failing to do your only job.” Riddle corrected with a scoff. “I will ask you one more time. Where. Is. Ellis?”

Ace, still annoyed, continued. He must’ve been either stupid or brave for continuing. Although it might’ve been both as he mocked him. “Didn’t you hear me the first time? I. Don’t. Know.”

Under your hand you felt Riddle’s fingers dig into the armrest, his knuckles growing white as he raised his voice an octave, “What if I take off your head? Will you know then?”

“If you took my head, you wouldn’t get any answers after that.” He retorted with a slight eye roll.

Underneath your hand you could feel Roseheart’s anger growing the tighter he dug his nails into the chair. When you saw his face, you and everyone else could tell that he was fit to burst, no doubt ready to seal this soldier’s doom. Instantly you shot up from your throne, wanting to help save this prisoner. However, you very quickly began to regret it when all eyes darted over to your form, and you now became the center of attention. You couldn’t just sit back down, so with no other choice, you awkwardly cleared your throat and proceeded nervously, “My dearest, earlier when in our chambers I had an… um… epiphany! A vision! Y-Yes, I had a vision…! Ellis will slay your–– our, pet dragon jabberwocky.”

Instantly Riddle’s eyes widened. “He killed our jabberwocky?!”

“No…! No, at least not yet!”

Technically you weren’t lying. The story goes that the Red Queen had a powerful dragon, the jabberwocky, which was the main reason why she could keep such a grip on the kingdom with no rebellion ever coming close to dethroning her. At least, that is until Alice comes along and slays the jabberwocky. If you could somehow get rid of Alice, or Ellis in this case, and stay in Riddle Roseheart’s good graces, you would have it made! It was practically certain that the court back home thought you would’ve been beheaded already and your head would float in that river of blood for eternity. Yet here you were, alive, and if things went smoothly, you could live out your life in splendor here. Yes, you’d have to deal with the red royal, but if you could just stay in his good graces at all times, you would have a wonderfully lavish life! At this point you were just speeding things up, Ellis’ intentions of slaying the jabberwocky probably weren’t supposed to be revealed until much later. But, it would make a perfect excuse now.

As all eyes remained on you, you recounted your fake tale, “It all makes sense now…! In… In my vision I saw… A red-haired knight, um, clashing swords with a blonde man in blue and white!” Well, that part was a lie. There never was a red-haired knight in the stories. But this was an opportunity to potentially save Ace as well, and give him a chance to redeem himself in Riddle’s eyes. When you turned to face Ace, he was gazing at you with furrowed eyebrows, but you proceeded anyway as you gave your attention to Riddle now. “Riddle, I think–– I mean, I b-believe that knight is this one here in front of us.”

“Him?” The royal exclaimed in disbelief, looking at the soldier with something akin to disgust. To which the said soldier stuck out his tongue before a stern glare from Trey and Cater made Ace close his mouth. Riddle blinked, quiet for a moment before gazing up at you, his expression softening as he flipped over his hand so it held yours. “Is that what you were doing in our chambers alone? You were studying texts and had a vision, to save me?”

“Y…Yes…?”

His big gray eyes became fixated on you, as his voice became soft when he replied, “I’ve misjudged you, my dear… I believed you were being unfaithful, but you were working hard for me. How wrong I was.” The way he looked at you could only be described as adoringly.

It made you nervous, but you could only awkwardly smile in return. In order to ensure your own life of comfort here, you had to be sure to ruin the plot of the story. This meant that Ellis, the protagonist, could not win no matter what. Although it pained you to do such a thing, knowing that the outcome would most likely mean death by beheading him and his allies, you were more afraid of death than you were of the hero. For this, you would have to make sure the antagonist, Riddle Rosehearts in the role of the Red Queen, obtained a happy ending instead of a bad ending where he himself would be banished after being defeated by Ellis.

Clearing your throat, you hesitantly listed off the sequence of events in the way you recalled them playing out, “In my vision I saw… a blonde boy in blue, a purple feline beastmen, and a hatter, among other allies. Ellis will… will attempt to infiltrate the palace, and gain your favor under a disguise, and steal the ancient sword that can slay our Jabberwocky.” As all eyes and ears remained on you, you hesitated once again, mentally apologizing for what you were about to do. Maybe in the end, you might be able to plead with your supposed spouse to spare them. But deep down, you knew it was unlikely for the ruthless tyrant to even consider the idea. “Your Majesty, my darling, i-if I may make a suggestion…?”

Riddle nodded as he listened attentively, “Go on.”

Thankfully you had moved your hands away from his, and had them folded in your lap so he couldn’t feel the way your fingers trembled with anxiety. “I would like to suggest we allow this knight before us to carry the sword, sheathed and hidden at all times. Let this be his redemption–– um, please, if you allow it, your Majesty.” Said knight gazed up in surprise. “It would be best to keep sir Ace in our sights. So might I ask that he and another capable knight become my guards?” Guards. Smart move, especially if things get hairy later. “I-I’d also like to suggest an increase in your personal escorts too… my dear. So… so you’ll be safe. And, no one else besides those in this room, will know of what we spoke of today––”

“That way, Ellis will come here all on his own, and if he searches for the sword it will not be there.” Riddle finished, to which you nodded. He caught on quickly. “That’s brilliant!” You nearly breathed a sigh of relief as the red royal turned to glance at his two subordinates, Trey and Cater, only to gesture to the former prisoner and demand of them, “Unbind him, Trey. How can he wield a sword if his hands are bound?”

Trey slowly stepped forward as Ace was allowed to stand, and he unlocked the shackles around the knight. Ace continued to peer up at you, suddenly flashing a grateful smile. To which you only caught a glimpse of before being distracted by the redhead on the throne.

“Cater!” Cater stood upright immediately and awaited orders from the royal. “Find a suitable knight to escort my partner! I expect only the strongest and most obedient of knights! Am I understood?”

“You got it, Your Majesty! I already have a few in mind.”

“Wonderful. I will be interviewing them myself, as well as hand-picking my own escorts.” Riddle stood from his throne, tossing out more commands and orders to be followed by his remaining subordinate and the guards that had escorted the former prisoner. “You lot, I want an increase on the perimeter and another search crew to hunt down that wretched boy Ellis! Trey, go and fetch the sword. As for you, Ace Trappola,” Turning to face the knight, he warned, “You have one more chance. Should you fail a second time, there will be no do-overs. Your head will roll and your family shall pay the price for your mistakes.”

For a mere moment, disbelief and anger flashed on Ace’s face. Just as he opened his mouth, you spoke up, “T-Thank you, Your Majesty…! You really are so… merciful.” Better to be a pawn in this game than to be dead.

Riddle turned his attention to you before smiling, such a true and proud smile as he declared, “I have you to thank for this, for saving my kingdom and protecting me. Once we have Ellis and his companions captured, we will have a morning execution for him, with front row seats to the show." As his eyes drifted back to the onlookers, he commanded, "All of you shall speak nothing of what transpired in this room.”

A chorus of Yes, Your Majesty echoed in the chamber. The royal nodded, content for now, sending you one last smile before turning on his heels and walking off to elsewhere with Cater in tow. Leaving you alone with Trey and Ace as all other attendants and soldiers exited the throne room to go fulfill their duties.

Just for a moment, you wanted to talk to Ace alone. There was something about Trey, something about the way he watched you so calmly but there was something in those yellow eyes behind those glasses. Something that made it seem like he knew your secret, like he knew you were not really the king. You weren’t sure if it was your paranoia getting to you and your mind was just playing tricks on you, but you wanted to distance yourself as far away from him as possible. As the former prisoner made his way towards you, you cleared your throat and spoke quietly, but loud enough for Trey to hear. “Can–– M-May I have a word with you, sir Ace…? In private.”

“Sure, I’m free now.” He half joked, giving a bit of a grin which didn’t do much to ease your worries.

Trey stood beside the empty throne, watching as you glanced over at him and made a gesture for him to carry on with the assigned duty of retrieving the legendary sword, as dictated by His Majesty. To which he did, after he carefully observed the way you scurried behind velvet curtains with the knight not too far behind.

When you were finally out of sight with Ace, you noticed his raised eyebrow. Noticing this and the way he tapped his foot, you hesitated, unsure where you were even going with this or what you should do now. “You… You look like you have something to say.”

“Why’d you save me?” He demanded, all that cheerfulness from before gone now as things took a serious turn. Looking you up and down, he crossed his arms and continued, “You could’ve had your cute little hubby chop off my head like all the others before me. So, say it. That’s the reason you wanted to talk alone, isn’t it?”

He got you. Were you that obvious? You’d definitely have to work on being more discreet… Looking around twice to make sure no one was listening in, you huddled with him in a corner by the stained glass windows as you whispered hurriedly, in a panic, “O-Okay, whew, you’re gonna think I’m crazy, but… I’m not really the king, or queen, or whatever role I’m supposed to play here! Well, I guess I am now? Uhhh… h-here! It’s like this: I was put on trial in my homeworld, and as punishment I was banished. When I woke up, I was in Roseheart’s bed and he started talking to me like I was an unfaithful partner! I didn’t understand it, until I realized that it was all exactly like a story I read as a child. My punishment was to become the king that dies by being beheaded by his own wife! I… I got out of that somehow, and now, well…”

Ace was looking at you as if you were crazy, as if you had grown an extra head or something. His arms were crossed and he continued to stare at you. Should you have done that? Could you trust him? Well, he did owe you his life. If things really came down to it, you could have him arrested again and beheaded. Play the victim, call guards, and make up some lie that he attacked you, but you really really didn’t want it to go like that… Finally, after a few seconds, he shook his head and gave a weak chuckle, as if he couldn’t even believe it. “Hold on, let me get this straight: You’re not royalty, but you’re a criminal from another world? Did you hit your head or something?”

You knew it. He wouldn’t believe you after all.

“I mean, they keep saying this Ellis loser came from another world too… So… Maybe your story doesn’t sound too crazy after all.” His scarlet eyes focused on the floor, as if considering something. “You really weren’t lying about knowing the future. And I thought you had gone mad or something! So I’m a hero in the story?”

You could only scratch your arm nervously, a bit regretful for having to crush his sudden burst of excitement. “Ahaha… not exactly? I made that part up…”

Disappointed at the revelation that he wasn’t some badass hero wielding a legendary sword, he scoffed, “Seriously? So why save me then?”

“Look…” You took a deep breath, hiding your fidgeting fingers in your palm as best as you could. “We were both supposed to die. At least my character was mentioned in the story, but you? Y-You weren’t even mentioned at all…! You were just a nameless faceless soldier, someone not even worth mentioning––”

Offended, he snapped back, “Faceless? Rude much!”

You quickly shushed him, internally freaking out at the prospect that you may have been overheard. But when nothing else and no one else stirred, you frowned and muttered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I’m just really nervous… I guess what I’m trying to get at here is… why don’t we both help each other survive?”

“What?” Shaking his head in disbelief. First this person called him someone not even worth mentioning then they ask for his help? Seriously, what was with them?

“T-Think about it…! I’m the second most powerful person in the entire kingdom…! I know what will happen! Kinda…”

“Well, I do want to live just as badly as you do…” It appeared he was still on the fence. Leaning his weight against the wall, he demanded, “But what do you mean you kinda know what will happen? I thought you, for sure, know.”

“Um…” Twiddling your fingers, you hesitantly explained the dilemma, “I did mention we were both supposed to die… And while that part isn’t a lie and the whole you being the destined one to stop Ellis was a lie, the other thing I didn’t lie about was Ellis gathering with his allies to infiltrate the palace and acquire the sword to kill the Jabberwocky. That will actually happen. S-So, since I told everyone that––”

“Let me guess, you told it early?”

Freezing, you gazed up at him and murmured, “H-How did you…?”

He shrugged, “I would’ve done the same thing if I were in your position. That means a higher chance of survival, right? Assuming that the blonde is the good guy and our king Rosehearts is the bad guy of the story. And considering all that, now you have no idea how the story will be affected, right?”

“R-Right…” Wait, now it just looked like you were useless! Immediately interjecting, you added, “But I can still make predictions based on what I know, like how things were originally supposed to play out…!”

“And you are still technically a royal…” Ace placed a finger to his chin, probably thinking about possible outcomes, upsides, and downsides if he agreed to work together. Finally, when his gaze flittered back to you and you stood upright, he questioned, “What if things don’t go how we–– you plan?”

You actually considered this briefly. If everything came crumbling down and all plans failed, there was but one last option to avoid any punishment. “Find Ellis and the White Queen… or is it the White King? I-It doesn’t matter…! The point is, the White Royal is very kind and merciful. If I go to them and explain that I am not really the Red King’s consort, then they’ll spare me…! If you come too and bring the sword to slay the Jabberwocky, that will assure them of our good intentions!”

“Isn’t that just running away? I don’t want to do that. And come on, the Whites? Are you for real? I thought us Reds were bad, but those pristine prissy little killjoys are no fun.”

For a second you wanted to strangle him. What kind of idiot would risk certain death by staying here if everything goes south, instead of fleeing to a good place that would grant you sanctuary? “It’s exactly running away, that’s the point…! The point is to stay alive!”

The redhead tilted his head to the side, his disappointed and serious behavior disappearing as he grinned. “What if I became king?”

Now it was your turn to look at him as if he were the insane one. Was this knight actually the mad hatter that had been driven insane by mercury poisoning?

“I do owe you one for saving my neck back there. And I won’t lie, I’ve dreamed about being king one day. And you, you’re actually way more ruthless than you seem at first. I thought you were a scared little wimp that always cowers behind their little hubby husband.” He mocked. Ouch. He thought you were a wimp…? “But turns out, I was so wrong about you. Sounds like you’re willing to do whatever it takes to live another day. Even turn on your own husband!”

He was whisper yelling, and it was starting to make you anxious that someone would overhear. So you whisper yelled back at a lower volume, “S-Stop that…! You know the truth, he’s not really my husband…”

That smirk made you think that he was going to respond in a louder voice, but thankfully he wasn’t that stupid. Just stupid enough to plan to overthrow the bloody Red King and talk about it in his own palace. But maybe you were stupid too, for talking about such delicate matters in the palace halls. Ace took your hands and performed a mock bow. “No running away, you got it? I’ll take that tiny red punk’s crown and become king, then I’ll keep you as a royal beside me, it’s the least I can do after what you did. We’ll both not only survive, but thrive. What do you say, Your Majesty~?”

#yandere #ace trappola #trey clover #cater diamond #riddle rosehearts #twisted wonderland #yandere twst #twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #twst writing #work in progress #damnation twst au

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nvrsaidiwasinurcloset · 3 months

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hii, idk if this is too complex but could you maybe do ethan landry x fem reader smut where he died (we all know the plot in scream 6) but like here he was just supposedly dead and actually alive but spent a few months in a psych ward and during this the reader is his ex girlfriend as they broke up one year before the events from 2023 since she didn’t want to accept him killing people for revenge but as months passed, she found out that he “died” so she took care of everything in his place, killing the core four and all and at that point she became very depressed as she still couldn’t get over him but then he suddenly appears in her life again (idk how tho, this can take place in the forest or at her house or idk) it can start a bit angst and then leading to smut with them being a bit eager as they haven’t done it in a long time. you can mention ethan having some scars somewhere on his face btw! (srry again if this is too complex 😭)

My sweet, SWEET anon. I finally have this done, thank you for being so patient with me💕 I appreciate you messaging me so I could run some ideas I had by you lol

Meet Me at Our Spot - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Summary: You think Ethan died at the theater, so you got revenge. He isn't dead though, and you run into him at your spot.

A/N: Hi! The anon that requested this messaged me earlier to help me with some plot ideas I had, cause you know I'm a bitch that LOVES a plot. If you guys have requested something and I haven't written it yet, it could be that I'm stumped and trying to figure it out. Just message me if you're like...damn why's she taking so long lol.

“Get the fuck out!” You screamed at Ethan, as tears streamed down both of your faces.

“Why are you doing this?” he cried, his eyes pleading with yours.

“I can’t be with someone as cold-hearted as you,” you snapped, nudging him out the front door and slamming it in his face.

That was the last time you saw Ethan. After you accidentally overheard the plan his family concocted to get revenge for Richie’s death, you called him out on it. He argued that it’s what he needed to do, and that you should love him regardless. You couldn’t, not if he was going to spend the rest of his life in prison, or worse, end up dead. You were hoping the break-up would make him realize that he shouldn’t do it, and just stay with you. He didn’t though, starting college not even a month later. You stayed home, opting for online courses like you both originally planned on doing.

When you saw the news that people had died in the same area of his university, you knew he had something to do with it. You couldn’t reach out to the cops, because his dad was a well-respected detective. No one would believe you. Plus, your own safety would be at risk. Ethan made that perfectly clear during your heated argument.

Your heart sank when you heard about what happened at the abandoned theater. When you saw that Ethan was one of the suspects, and that he was found deceased, you couldn’t control your emotions as you wailed in the otherwise silent house. After you read about what happened to him, you started to understand why he felt like he needed to avenge Richie’s death, because that’s exactly how you were feeling. You wanted to get back at the people who took him from you.

You started with Kirby. She was the one that ultimately took him from you. You started to feel satisfied, but you knew you couldn’t stop until they all died. You went to Chad and Mindy, then Tara and Sam. Even with you finishing what Ethan and his family started, you still felt so empty without him.

You never read anything else about Ethan after you did what you needed to do, the thought of him being gone made you too sad to even think about it. You did keep tabs on what was happening in the investigations into your crimes, but they never had any leads. If you had kept up with the news on Ethan, you would’ve seen that the first news reports were wrong, and that he did survive.

The attempts to keep your day-to-day life normal became impossible. Your parents were always traveling, so you mostly had the place to yourself. All you wanted to do was lay in bed and cry, your living space reflecting that. You finally decided to get up and clean, coming across so many little gifts and things Ethan had gotten you over the two years you were together. When you came across the first note he wrote to you when you were juniors in high school, you started to sob. His handwriting on the page in front of you made you feel like you had a piece of him. Then, you saw the ‘Meet me at our spot’ at the bottom of the page. The spot he first told you he loved you.

He was so nervous that day, his cheeks pink as he finally got those three words out, terrified that you wouldn’t say it back. You did, though. You knew with everything in you that you were meant to be with him. You thought back to the times that you’d pass him in the hallway on your way to class, the two of you not having much time to talk. He’d say “forever” as his eyes connected with yours, and you’d always say it back. It was so simple, but he wanted you to know how much he loved you, and that you’d always have his heart.

You slipped your shoes on before heading out the door. You knew you needed to go to the spot in the woods that the two of you would always go whenever you needed to get away from life. You sat on the log you’d always sit on, crying as you touched the empty space beside you.

“I miss you so fucking much,” you sobbed, letting out so many emotions. The anger, the sadness, and the heartache overwhelming you.

“I never thought I’d see you here,” you heard, as the leaves crunched behind you.

Your head snapped in the direction of the voice, your chest getting tight as you saw Ethan standing there.

“Fuck, I really am going crazy,” you cried, taking a deep breath.

You didn’t want to look away. Even if this was a figment of your imagination, seeing him was something you so badly needed.

“You aren’t crazy,” he said, stepping closer to you.

You noticed some scars on his face, but he was still beautiful. Your heart swelled as you shut your eyes tight and reopened them, to see him still standing there.

“I’m real. I told you; you aren’t going crazy.”

You stood up and started to walk a little closer to him. His brown eyes met yours before looking at the ground, his facial expression unreadable.

“Ethan…How?” was all you got out, your brain not fully processing what was happening.

“It doesn’t surprise me that you didn’t keep track of what happened to me,” he said, turning around to walk in the opposite direction of you.

“What the fuck do you mean? You died! It was all over the news!” you yelled, as he kept walking. “Ethan, please stop.”

He stopped, his back still turned to you.

“How could you just break up with me like that? How could you just throw me away?” he said, finally turning to look at you. Tears stained his cheeks as he waited for you to respond. He’s waited over a year for an answer. “Forever must not mean much to you.”

“It doesn’t?! Then why did I finish what you started? Why did I kill for you?” you snapped, as his eyes grew wide.

“That was you?” he asked, “You’re so stupid!”

He quickly walked back towards you but kept a few feet of space in between. It was like he was too scared to get close.

“I understand why you wanted to do what you did for Richie. I couldn’t stop thinking about the people that hurt you being out there, living their lives when yours was over,” you sobbed, as he wiped the tears from his cheeks. “I said forever, and I meant it.”

He closed the space between the two of you, his lips connecting with yours. The kiss was aggressive, like you both needed it so badly for so long that you never wanted your mouths to stop moving. His hands were roaming everywhere he could reach. Your hips, your ass, your breasts. Every new area he touched had you whimpering into the kiss.

He pulled away, looking into your eyes. “I need you, baby.”

You knew what he meant; his tone full of lust. You looked around at the dead leaves and twigs on the ground, realizing that it wasn’t the most comfortable place for you to go at it for a long time, which is what you fully intended on doing.

“My parents are out of town. Let’s go,” you said, grabbing his hand as you ran with him through the woods back to your place.

Once you made it inside the front door and closed it, he shoved you up against it. You were both breathing heavy from the running, and from the anticipation.

“Have you fucked anyone since me?” he asked, his eyes dark as they looked into yours.

“No, I’ve only wanted you,” you said, as he started to smirk.

“Good, because that pussy belongs to me,” he growled, before roughly kissing you. Your arms went around his neck as his hands went to your waist, lifting you off the ground. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his hips. You could feel his cock though his jeans as it pressed against your ass, the feeling making you moan against his lips.

He carried you over to the couch, not wanting to waste a single second of time. You only pulled apart from the kiss when you both took your shirts off. You noticed the scars on his shoulder and chest, gently running your fingers over them as he started to unbutton your jeans.

You couldn’t help but wonder what the full story was. What happened after you thought he was dead? Those thoughts were quickly pushed to the side as he slid your jeans and panties down in the same motion.

“You have no idea how bad I’ve wanted to taste you again,” he said, leaning in and licking your clit.

“Oh shit,” you whined, your fingers going to his hair as his mouth moved faster against you. “Fuck I missed you eating me out.”

He moved his mouth lower, his tongue dipping inside your dripping core. He kept moving his tongue, the sounds flooding out of your mouth going straight to his throbbing cock.

He moved back up to focus on your clit as he slid a finger in you, before adding another. Your pussy was sucking his fingers in as the wet sounds filled the room.

“Oh fuck, right there!” you cried out as the pads of his fingers moved against that special spot inside of you. “Fuck, just like that. Yesss.”

You started to move your hips against his fingers and mouth as his free hand had a strong grip on your thigh. It didn’t take long for his fingers to move faster, and that feeling you hadn’t felt in so long started to creep up. Yeah, you’d been able to get off a couple times by yourself, but nothing ever compared to how Ethan does it.

“You’re going to make me cum,” you whimpered, the intensity of the feeling getting stronger and stronger as your hips started to jerk. Ethan just kept going, his fingers and mouth not slowing as tears started to slip down your face. The orgasm was so strong as you babbled out, the things you were saying not making any sense.

When you started to relax onto the couch and your hips stilled, he slid out his fingers. You whined at the emptiness, as he started to laugh. “God, baby, you’re so needy.” He quickly got out of his jeans and slid his boxers down, not wanting another second of time to pass without him being inside of you.

He crawled on top of you and lined up at your entrance. You squealed as he slid inside of you, the fullness making your breath hitch in your throat.

“Fuck, so tight,” he groaned, “I missed this so fucking much.”

“I missed it too,” you moaned, as he started to thrust harder. “Oh fuck!”

You were whining as his hips pounded into you, the relentless pace turning your brain to mush. He started to slow down a little, not wanting to cum too quickly.

“Let me ride you, baby,” you whimpered, “Please, I need it.”

He groaned at your words, sliding out long enough to sit on the couch. You straddled him as he gripped the base of his erection for you to sink down onto him.

“Oh my god,” you whined out, as your hands held onto the back of the couch and his hands went to your breasts.

He massaged them before taking one of your nipples into his mouth, moaning around it as your hips started to move quicker. He noticed you weren’t going all the way down, his size a little too much for you to handle.

“Aww, baby. Is it too much for you?” he asked sweetly, before grabbing your hips and fucking the rest of his cock up in you.

“Fuck fuckfuck,” you cried out, feeling the tears well up again from the pleasure. “I can’t take it.”

“Yeah you can baby, just relax. You’re doing so good for me,” he cooed, as you started to meet his thrusts with your hips. The sound of your ass slapping against his thighs echoing off the walls. “So fucking good.”

One of his hands left your hip and started to rub quick circles on your swollen clit, your walls starting to flutter the second he did it.

“You getting close, baby?” he asked, his lustful eyes looking into the ones that you were struggling to keep open.

“Mhm,” you whimpered, your eyes screwing shut as you moved as fast as you could, chasing your orgasm. “Gonna-fuck..cum,” you got out, as he added a little more pressure to your clit. “Holy fuck!”

His hands went back to your hips as you started to go limp in his arms, too fucked out to move. He bounced you on him, chasing his own orgasm. All you could do was whimper, the tears trickling out of your eyes at the feeling. He pulled out of you, his cum shooting all over your tummy and his.

“Hey, hey baby,” he said softly, “Are you okay?”

He wiped the tears from your cheeks as before you relaxed onto him.

“That felt so good,” you said, your head resting against his chest.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No baby, it was perfect.”

You stayed there pressed against him as his fingers ran up and down your bare back. It felt so nice to have him back, and you never wanted to let him go again.

“What happened? Like after you were found?” you asked, your fingers running over the scars again.

He sighed, nervous to tell you all the gory details. “I had a faint pulse when they found me. They didn’t expect me to make it. I lost a lot of blood, and had some head trauma,” he said, as you sat up a little to look at him. “Then after I started to get better, they started talking about court and I got interrogated. But someone started their own little killing spree. I started to lie, saying that the real killer that was helping dad and Quinn must still be out there if people were still dying and I was sitting in the hospital.”

“And they believed you?” you asked, waiting for him to continue.

“Yeah, not at first, but the evidence didn’t add up to me aside from the robe I was wearing. I told them that dad roped me into it…and that he threated to kill me if I didn’t participate.”

“I still can’t believe they let you out,” you said, still amazed that he was right in front of you.

“I was in there for a while, and I’ve been on so many different medications to deal with the health issues I have now…I’ll tell you about those later. But if it wasn’t for you doing what you did, I would still be in there,” he said, his hands rubbing along your sides. “When I came back, I started staying with my aunt who thinks I was this manipulated, innocent person. She takes me to all my appointments to make sure I don’t have to go back to the psych ward.”

“Why didn’t you come see me?” you asked, feeling a little hurt that he’d been home for a while and didn’t bother to try to see you.

“I thought you didn’t want to see me, so I’ve been going to our spot every single day, just to think. I’d always hoped I’d run into you there,” he said, his voice cracking as he started to tear up. “I just love you so much.”

“I love you too, baby. Forever.” You smiled, “Today was the first time I’ve been there since you left. I found a note from you earlier and I just had to go there,” you said, wiping the tears off his cheeks.

“I’m so happy you did.”

He held you there for a while, loving the way your body felt against him.

“Babe, you wanna go shower? Your cum is still all over us,” you giggled, as his hands gripped your hips.

“Who said I was done with you yet?”

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #scream smut #ethan landry smut

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asksythe · 10 months

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Hey just read your lovely hands fanfic and the concept of the blood pool being a prison for malevolent entities barred from the cycle of reincarnation is so COOL , is it a thing implied between the lines and we western audiences lack the cultural context to recognise it ?, or is it something you came up with if so can I have permission to incorporate the concept into my own fan works?

It is a cultural thing. It's not even implied in the novel. It's just outright stated. But it's one of those hundreds of tiny cultural details that probably fly over the head of the international audience.

Remember when the Wen people came back as bloody corpses to protect Wei Ying and fought back the fierce corpses riled up by the repaired Yin Hufu?

In this part, the novel describes the events following the first Sige of the Burial Mound. After the hundred cultivator houses slaughtered these defenseless elderlies, women, and children, they threw their corpses into the blood pool, thus forever barring them from reincarnation.

The phrase the novel uses is 永不超生 (lit. to never again be reborn, to be barred from the cycle of reincarnation forever). That's not a figure of speech. The novel is being literal. The Burial Mound itself is already a prison for all kinds of undead and ghost wraiths. The blood pool, by the novel descriptions, amounts to a maximum security cell. A ghost in the Burial Mound can eventually let go of their grudge/resentment and enters the afterlife/reincarnation. But anybody thrown into the blood pool doesn't have this option.

永不超生 is commonly portrayed in Chinese culture as a punishment by the authority of the underworld. That's not a judgment that a mortal is allowed to make.

The fact that the Hundred Houses carried out 永不超生 on the Wen is a detail that speaks of both their arrogance and their awareness of their guilt.

The Hundred Houses are well aware what they did to the Wen remnants is a sin. The custom of the time is, if you profess yourself to be the righteous side and slay someone seen as 'evil/villain,' it's customary to hang their corpses up for all to see.

Remember Nie Mingjue beheading Wen Xu and hanging Wen Xu's head at the gate of Uncleam Realm for all to see? NMJ is not doing that just because he has a vendetta against the Wen. He's doing that as part of ancient customs to declare to all that 'his kill is righteous,' that he doesn't need to hide it, and that Wen Xu and the Wens are villains that need to be put down.

That's the principle. Justice has no need to hide.

But not only did the Hundred Houses hide the corpses of the Wen remnants, but they also imprisoned their souls, hoping that would keep the Wen from coming back as grudge wraiths or for the karmic cycle itself to snap back for this sin.

The Hundred Houses built up the Wen remnants to be this evil army at Wei Ying's beck and call. So they need to be put down. But the truth is that they were just a bunch of elderlies, women, and children who spent all their lives being doctors (as they belong to the Qihuang branch, with their own pacifistic philosophy).

Had the Hundred Houses performed the custom and showed their supposedly righteous kill to the world, then the truth would out. That they were either liars or stupid, and that they best be prepared to repay for their transgression on both innocent Wens and on the authority of hell itself.

And that, my friend, is why the second Burial Mound Siege ended the way it did, and why the vast majority of those same cultivators left Wei Ying alone afterward. What do you think those same cultivators think when their victims break out of the supposedly unbreakable maximum security cell to save Wei Ying (another of their victims)? And then those same Wen souls entered the afterlife?

The Western vernacular for this part is: Karma is a tenacious bitch with a long memory. It doesn't matter how much they lie about their crime and act like they are righteous or how good they think they hide the proof of their deeds. Heaven and hell itself are watching.

....Sorry, I have some strong feelings about the treatment of the Wen remnants.

That is to say, feel free to incorporate it in your works.

#ask sythe #wen qing #wen remnants #wen ning #mo dao zu shi #mdzs

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eddiessluttywaist · 1 year

Text

desiderium

an eddie munson series

AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES.

summary: eddie’s odd, forgotten childhood friend seeks him out when he needs her more than he realizes.

pairing: bsf!mechanic!bartender!eddie x eccentric!bsf!fem!reader

word count: 4,752 words

content/warnings: eventual smut so MDNI, angst, swearing, loneliness, mentions of drugs and crime, mentions of imprisonment, family issues, feeling unwanted, slight bullying, anxiety, nightmares, insomnia, depression, loss and grief, mentions of spit, super brief mention of alcohol and vomit, very brief mentions of breakups and inappropriate sexual relations (nothing reader or eddie are apart of). i think that’s it!

a/n: this is my first attempt at a slow burn series so i hope it’s good! i’m also trying a new setup with photos instead of gifs ^ i’ve seen a lot of other people do it and i think it looks really cool so! also creds to who owns and posted these photos! they’re not mine, i just made the collage!

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5

Eddie Munson had grown bitter since you last saw him. To be fair, the last time you saw him was when you were kids but still. You always knew him to be boisterous. Adventurer Eddie. Eddie with the weird ideas and cool drawings. Eddie who made you laugh until your stomach cramped and you would cry out that he was going to make you wet yourself.

You didn’t know it as a kid but even then he couldn’t catch a break from the world around him, and apparently it never stopped spiraling even when it beat him into a hollow shell covered in grease during the weekdays and alcohol—and occasionally vomit—on the weekends. He was worn down by his own worries that never seemed to cease and miserable stories of others admitting things they should’ve never said aloud. Sometimes the stories were fun or at least amusing, but mostly just depressing. This was Hawkins after all.

This wasn’t an Eddie you knew. Had someone told you that man in the garage wasn’t him, you simply would’ve nodded and kept going on your journey to find him.

But it was him, and you were positive he was meant to be back in your life. No matter how much it was hurting right now.

You didn’t know why he left at first. It was as if he ceased to exist, and sometimes—when you were all alone at night—you wondered if he had been a ghost. If he had been an imaginary friend, but surely not? He had his own home you hung out in. His own dad who let you guys eat too much junk food and stay up too late. He looked and sounded real when he would scarf down several bowls of honeycomb cereal with those slurping noises you always hated and would whine at him over. He felt real when you would play wrestle—and unfortunately very real when he won and would pin you down while slowly letting a string of saliva stretch down towards your face in an empty threat. He never really did it, but it was gross all the same, and when he’d let up you’d punch his arm as hard as you could.

One day, you asked if your parents remembered him and your father scoffed at the question while he stared at the newspaper, but at least he acknowledged you at all. Meanwhile your mother had all her focus on putting her earrings in and checking her makeup in the small mirror on a wall surrounded by family photos. Those framed pictures felt emptier than the looming threat of Eddie’s spit touching your face.

“Well his father’s a bottom feeder stuck in prison,” your dad flicked his paper to straighten it out again from where it had begun to bow backwards. “And his kid is probably no better. You’ll make other friends.”

You never understood why he was so cold about the loss of your only friend. You’ll make other friends. Yeah right. No one liked you. Everyone made fun of the way you sat idly on swings just to kick on occasion as you focused more on the book in your hands, or the way you’d squat down and give all your attention to a bug in front of you. Either a line of ants that you regarded with pure intrigue because you wondered how they always filed so neatly and did their best to stay together. Sometimes you left crumbs by them just to see if you could watch them pick them up. You’d watch snails and show them the attentiveness and respect you felt they deserved as they slowly trudged along—so determined, you thought. You’d watch butterflies and try to keep track of all the different kinds you saw. A lot of them were small and fluttery with those buttery white wings, but sometimes you saw a monarch and your eyes would grow large with excitement.

You cried when Zachary McKay would stomp on the anthills or teased you about how the French ate snails—something his dad would say was just more proof of how odd Europeans are. They were one of those arrogant “We love our Country!” households with an “I can do whatever I want—America is the land of the free” ideology and it showed in their unbridled and privileged ass of a child. You didn’t inform him that one Spring of the wasp nest that formed on the underside of the slide he frequented. Maybe it was mean, but you were content in silence over on your swing when you heard him crying out in pain one day. He developed a crush on you in high school that dramatically contrasted how he treated you in grade school—and even tried to make a move at Maddi Ecker’s 17th birthday party—but you could only think of the ants and the snails. You turned him down and he was horrible to you again.

You eventually did make some friends, other odds and ends throughout your school, but it wasn’t the same as it was with Eddie. Maybe it was childish and stubborn, but you could feel it deep in your gut that he was one of a kind. So you couldn’t let him go. All those years you ached for your friend who you considered lost. He always came up with wild stories and (when you were still relatively young) you imagined he had become a pirate and was lost at sea. Or became a gunslinger in the Wild West and didn’t draw fast enough. Maybe he went to slay dragons and wound up a burnt crisp of a human. That last one made you cringe the most, but he probably would’ve liked it the most. He loved mythical creatures the way you adored real creatures. By high school you weren’t as naive. You heard about his dad—caught with multiple charges of grand theft auto, a hit-and-run in one of said stolen cars, and dealing drugs. The hard shit. Not weed or shrooms. But the kind of stuff that really ruins lives.

You always thought Eddie had a good home. His dad didn’t hate him the way you were sure your parents hated you, and he had a nice house. It wasn’t a mansion or anything, but they really didn’t need anything beyond a one story and a sizable basement with only two of them. In hindsight, you supposed he couldn’t find a home in that childhood house anymore than you could with yours. Yours lacked love. His lacked a reliable source of income.

Over time you heard about the night with all the sirens and social workers. The night he turned into a spirit that had finally moved on—an imaginary friend that your growing mind ceased to conjure. He lived with his uncle over in Indiana, rather than your small town in Ohio. Even in your mid twenties, he flashed in your mind like a small blip on occasion and it still twisted your stomach.

You thought of asking if you should go to him whenever you remembered, but you thought you needed a sign. What if you showed up too early? And you messed up any possible grand plans? So you avoided indulging in questions about him to your tarot cards or over your pendulum map. On occasion you caved and just asked a simple question: is he safe? It was a yes every time you broke and just had to check up on him, and the answer reassured you for long enough until the next time the concern rose up to unbearable levels.

But then you started getting those dreams. Sometimes they were just memories playing from deep within the archives of your mind. Sometimes they were nightmares of yelling at someone to go away, only to realize it was Eddie far too late—and when you wanted to run after him to correct the mistake, you couldn’t move as quickly as you knew you were capable of.

It went on for about a month before you finally broke. Your eyes had snapped open, accidentally waking yourself in the middle of saying what you had been shouting to Dream Eddie out loud into your pitch black room. You glanced at the time. 11:11 PM. You felt your heart skip a beat before you shoved yourself out of bed. You had to take a moment to steady yourself against your bedpost from the sudden movement making you dizzy, but then you were flicking on the light and digging through your belongings. You didn’t even give yourself a chance to wipe away at the thin sheen of sweat over your skin from August heat mixed with a cheap fan that really didn’t make that much of a difference, and the stress from the events that had played deep in your mind while you slept.

With a shaky breath, you smoothed out your map on the floor where you were squatting, and steadily held your pendulum over the center. Does he need me? You finally asked and watched as the chain connected to a sphere of rose quartz slowly began to circle. It sped up and then began to dart in different directions before finally swinging back and forth between both of the “YES''s on the piece of cloth.

It took a little over a month to arrange your departure from your life in small town Ohio—not that small town Indiana was really all that different. You had briefly been back at your childhood house after your lease came to an end for the apartment you shared with a friend (who didn’t want to renew because she wanted to move in with her boyfriend, and you didn’t have the heart to tell her that the card spread you had laid out all pointed towards a breakup). All of this to say you didn’t have a lease or mortgage to tie you down. You certainly didn’t have a boyfriend (you haven’t had one since college), and you didn’t even like your job at the local mart so it was easy to give your two weeks. Your parents were just as sick of your presence now as when you were a child, and were willing to help you in every way possible to get you to just leave again. Had you not been so focused on your end goal, you might’ve taken a beat to really feel the hurt that always came with parents who only came to your aid when it meant keeping you at arm's length. But you couldn’t focus on it and really (for the sake of your mental health) you shouldn’t focus on it. All of your energy went towards Eddie who seemed so far, even if he was supposedly just a few hours and a state line away.

You didn’t have a place yet, which was a mistake on your part for rushing, but you could stay in a motel for the time being. The prices were pretty low anyways and the owner seemed pleasantly surprised by the sudden source of money and company. The lot belonged to her husband who had passed a few years back, so now it was only her running the place. Her daughter helped sometimes, but she had another job to focus on—only coming to help when the older woman was ill. So even though she appeared kind of grumpy at first, she really softened up to you when you wound up padding out of your room the first night and asked if she wanted to play Go Fish. You had been feeling antsy and lonely, and you were right to assume she felt lonely too.

Over the past week or so, you found a friend in that creaking, groaning motel. You did have a bit of a tendency to befriend the adults around you more often than kids your age when you were younger and it still happened now, apparently. A shrink at university pointed out once that it had to do with the lack of guardianship and guidance growing up. That you were trying to replace something that had always been missing, but you didn’t go back to him after a couple sessions. You didn’t like how patronizing he was, telling you things you already knew. And when you asked your dowsing rods if he was sleeping with any of his clients, the two pieces in your fists whipped open in a blatant “Yes!” But he wasn’t around now to make you feel low with his supercilious commentary and his notes that he always scratched down right in front of you. Your parents weren’t around to remind you of how utterly unlovable you can be. It was just you, Martha at Hawkins’ Blue Bird Inn, and hopefully a pleasant reunion on the horizon.

Today was the day to finally see Eddie, and Martha urged some confidence into you this morning before sending you on your way with the directions to the garage. No matter how many times you clarified he was just your childhood best friend, she got that sly look about her that always showed when an adult was all amused about the novice in front of them being openly or involuntarily blind to love.

So there you were. On a mild Wednesday morning in late September, standing before Thacher Tire after a lot of asking around, a lot of time flipping through Martha’s phone book, and even more odd looks. You let out a careful breath, doing your best to reassure yourself with the knowledge that the people you spoke to knew his name in the first place. He had to be here, and even if he wasn’t working today he should at least be employed here. Maybe you could be told when to come back to speak with him or where you could find him outside of work. Would they share something like that? People don’t tend to care about privacy in small towns, that’s why everyone knew (generally) where everyone else was. Maybe if you clarified that you’re an old friend, they wouldn’t treat you as a customer and tell you where he would be.

You were wringing your hands as you eyed the door in front of you. The glass looking in was worn from age and weather, clearly cleaned so people could see through it, but there seemed to be an aging to the corners where the rectangle of glass met the surrounding wood that couldn’t be scrubbed out. It felt like a portal looking into what could be, and you suddenly felt yourself getting anxious with what exactly meant could be. You had a knack for catastrophizing, and spiraled in all of the worst case scenarios until you were running back to your car and abandoning the lot.

“Trust me, it’s not as scary as it seems. Going for those intimidating opportunities is always better in the long run than letting ‘em slip away,'' Martha murmured to you before biting into the sandwich you brought her.

You bought typical fast food that you always came running back to when you were stressed, but she didn’t like the grease. You learned that over the past week when you brought up your bad habit, and her nose scrunched up at the mention of crappy burgers and overly salted fries. Instead you got her a tuna sandwich from the nearby marketplace, and she shared her big jug of iced, sweet tea with you.

“I haven’t seen him for over ten years…,” you sigh, toying with the crackling paper that was wrapped around your cheeseburger. “What if I’m the only one who clung onto our friendship? What if it’s stupid to him?”

“Mm, us women always do hold on longer,” she hummed thoughtfully and you refrained from your urge to correct her old-fashioned view of gender dynamics for the sake of staying on topic. “I still think you should go for it.”

“What if… what if it’s not what I think it’ll be? What if I’ve turned him into someone more fictional than Eddie in my mind, and when I’m faced with how he really is now I just… I dunno…wish I didn’t come here?”

“They never are what you conjure up. They’re always better up here,” she pointed a bony finger to her temple and you focused on one of the curls in her short gray hair for a second before bringing your gaze back to hers. “I still think you should go for it.”

You huff out a laugh at her repetition, smiling sadly to yourself as you look down at your hands and notice the thin sheen of grease on them. Maybe Martha’s right. Maybe this food is gross. You grab a few napkins from the brown paper bag and wipe at your fingers.

“Just think of it this way: is it worse knowing the truth or worse never knowing?”

Eddie had been having a shit day. Actually he had been having a shit week. If he let himself truly indulge in his pessimism, he’d be acknowledging that he’s altogether just had a shit life, but he was trying not to fall into that trap. It would make him the kind of depressed and bitter that made him snap at others and then feel guilty about it—which only made him feel worse about himself.

He hasn’t been sleeping well, a sudden flare up of his insomnia throwing off his circadian rhythm. He thought with how busy his schedule was that he’d knock out the second his head hit the pillow, but he only seemed to be exhausted until he finally laid down. Then was when his thoughts randomly chose to run and his heart would race with the sudden surge of anxiety-inducing thoughts. He was beginning to feel so overwhelmed by everything that his eyes burned with the beginnings of hot tears but he wiped at them carelessly with the heels of his hands before they could become too real. In his mind, they didn’t exist until they fell.

Eddie ached with exhaustion that only seemed to let up when he could actually get a shot at some rest. He ached with loss and grief. He ached with pure misery and painful seclusion and a silent trailer—besides the occasional buzz of electricity through his lamp that he turned back on when he realized he wouldn’t be sleeping anyway, or the groan of the old mobile home settling against its cinder blocks. The upcoming season made itself known through the ever growing chill that formed at night and occasionally blew through every crack and crease of the trailer, making him shiver and pull his blankets up before inevitably growing hot again and kicking them away.

He missed his friends that he rarely saw. Everyone is busy nowadays. He missed Wayne who… god, he couldn’t even think about it. He missed Chrissy who lit up his world Spring of ‘86 just for them to drift apart. People seemed to drift from him a lot. People seemed comfortable with forgetting him and giving a brief call only when they got a pang of guilt at any reminder that they were getting awfully close to leaving him behind. But who was he to drag them down? It was heart-aching enough to live the way he did sometimes, let alone when people acknowledged just how heart-aching it was. Sometimes he even missed his dad, but he always avoided thinking too hard about him before it could sink his mood to a new level that would be hard to crawl out of.

He hadn’t been able to fall asleep Wednesday night until early into Thursday morning. He settled into a deep rest around 4 AM just to be abruptly woken up by his 6:30 alarm to make sure he was at Thacher’s by 7:00.

“Fuck off…,” Eddie groaned out loud and slammed his fist down onto the alarm clock, never lifting his face from where it was planted right against his worn pillow.

He laid there for what felt like forever, but was really only a few minutes before he finally peeled himself out of his spot. Forcing himself from the comfort of his old mattress was never easy, especially when he couldn’t rely on any excuses he made up as a teenager to just flop right back into his bed. He had to get up. He had to work.

He went to make his usual toast just to see there was only the end piece left in his loaf of bread, and let out a guttural groan of frustration as he tilted his head back. He forgot to stop at the store. Grumbling a bitter so that’s how today’s gonna go under his breath, he shoved the sad excuse for a slice of bread into the toaster and then began looking through the kitchen for something else to satiate him until lunch.

He wound up eating what was left in his jar of peanut butter with a spoon after slathering the small piece of toast with jelly. He didn’t have time to clean a travel mug (which he forgot to clean last night) so he took a regular one with him on his commute, and wound up dumping his coffee all over himself mid-sip when he had to stop short for a kid suddenly biking across the road. The young teen laughed at the close call and made his way to the other side of the street. Eddie glanced down at his drenched t-shirt and coveralls, releasing his third irritated groan of the morning while he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling of his van before focusing back on the road and moving his foot to the gas. He focused on taking deep breaths as he gripped the steering wheel and made his way to the shop.

Thankfully, Linda had already started a pot of coffee in the break room which he happily drank and patted at his wet clothing with one of the blue shop towels. Staining was inevitable and it really didn’t matter with the coveralls anyways, but that didn’t mean he had to be damp. Taking that moment at the start of his shift helped with his mood, but the amount of customers bitching over the phone about how long it was taking to get their cars back were steadily draining him back into a surly mood. The most he had to look forward to and keep himself from unnecessarily snapping at someone was the fact that it was almost the weekend—and yes he would still have to work nights at The Hideout, but at least he didn’t have to get up early.

Never knowing was decidedly worse.

You had concluded this after ruminating on it all night—with and then without Martha’s help. And despite all of your anxieties that were just barely buried under the surface, you made yourself go to the garage again.

An obnoxious, tinny bell sounded and a dull voice said from behind a counter: Welcome to Thacher Tire. What can we do for you?

You approached carefully as if you moved too quickly, the depressing gray and beige setting around you—which held far more meaning for you than just fixing cars—would suddenly melt away and you’d wake up.

“Do you know where I could find Eddie Munson?” you asked in a soft voice, and the woman obnoxiously chomping at her gum looked up at you over the top of her glasses before looking back down at the paperwork in front of her.

“He’s in the garage. Is he working on your car?”

Your heart jumped and although you hated to lie, you did.

“Yes,” you said probably too quickly, but it seemed nothing could get this woman to care.

“Wait over there, please,” she spoke in a voice that was just as greige as her place of work.

You thanked her meekly and shuffled over to one of the worn, faux leather and hard plastic seats. The room smelled of cheap pine air fresheners and the potent combination of oil, and that specific rubber scent of brand new tires. The space with the front desk and the waiting area was small enough to be cramped if it was a busy day, but since you were the only visitor at the moment you didn’t have to be confronted by the full potential of such limited space. You toyed with your hands and tried to pay attention to the fuzzy television in one corner of the room, but you couldn’t help listening in on the receptionist’s call.

“…’s a girl here to talk to ya… uh-huh… yeah I know… uh, no I don’t think so. I doubt it. Her voice is different from the one that keeps calling about the Ford. Might be though... ‘Kay.”

You anxiously wiped your sweaty palms over your jeans as you heard the clunk of hard plastic settling back into its cradle. What if he didn’t remember you? What if he did, but didn’t care? What if he thought you were weird for showing up? What if he grew up to be someone who stomps on anthills?

Your head shot up at the sound of a door opening and then closing from the back, and a man in filthy coveralls approached the woman behind the desk. He had messy, curly bangs settled on his forehead and the rest of his long hair was in a low ponytail. He was sweaty and clearly exhausted as he wiped at his forehead and left a swipe of grease in his wake, speaking quietly to the receptionist before making his way over to you. The closer he got, the better you could smell the grease and sweat and bitter coffee, but it didn’t deter you. What truly threw you were the circles under his eyes and the sort of pale cast to his skin that people got when they were fatigued or ill. You weren’t sure why a part of you expected to see an eleven year old kid approach you with a god awful buzz cut and big brown eyes, even after fourteen years.

This was it. This was your moment. The time to reclaim your best friend, and have the greatest person you had ever met back into your life. Why was your throat suddenly so dry? You swallowed anxiously and then parted your lips to speak and-

“Miss, I know you’re waiting on your car to be fixed before the weekend—I promise I’m working as quickly as I can.”

You tried not to cringe at the use of “miss” and looked up at him with wide, sad eyes wondering why he didn’t see an almost ten year old girl with a messy braid in her hair that she did by herself, complaining at him to chew with his mouth closed.

“I lied,” You said bluntly and the man stared at you in a way that felt blank and still despite his wonderment.

“I-I don’t have a car here. I just wanted to talk to you.”

He eyed you curiously, his hands slowly wiping onto an old rag. It looked like it had been used so many times, you doubted it was even picking up any filth on his hands but just moving it around instead. He was clearly thrown off by the sentiment which brought a sort of youthfulness to his face in that moment of curiosity before his features hardened.

“Listen. I’m sure whatever prank you have conjured up is hilarious, but I’m tired and trying to do my job.”

“No-- no, no,” you tried to clarify, shooting up from your seat. “I—I-”

But he was already swiftly stomping away from you towards the back, muttering to the receptionist with a quick and surely rude comment about you on his way. You were moments from being politely asked to leave, you’re sure, but the woman hesitated with a gentle expression when she saw you approach her with glossy eyes.

“Could you please just give him this?” you asked in a soft voice that you did your best to keep even, but of course it wobbled just enough to be humiliating. You could feel the heat in your face and (even worse) the moisture in your eyes so you did your best to avoid eye contact.

You outstretched your arm and she met you halfway with a nod, allowing you to drop the old friendship bracelet into her palm.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things x reader #mechanic!eddie #bartender!eddie #bartender!eddie munson #angst #slow burn #slow burn eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #bsf!eddie munson #eddie munson angst #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson series

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reasonandempathy · 10 days

Note

The weird radical/revolutionary politic larpers on this site are so allergic to political pragmatism I swear lmao. I am definitely left of the Democratic Party and I am certainly voting for Joe Biden in November. Not because I like him (I don’t). He is absolutely horrific on Gaza and that’s only the top (and priority considering there is a genocide going on there) of a list of complaints I have about him. I even voted uncommitted in my state’s presidential primary (the Pennsylvania one; I had to write it in) to protest. However, I’m still thinking pragmatically. Trump has said things that make me credibly think he will be worse on Gaza (insane that being worse on Gaza than Biden is possible but it is unfortunately), and that’s only the tip of the iceberg. Project 2025, the potential for him to appoint more deeply conservative justices, more of his aggressively screwing over poor and middle class people with his tax policies. And does anyone else remember the spike in hate crimes after the race was called for him in 2016? Before he was even inaugurated? Whether people vote or not in November we will still have to deal with one of these two men in office come January unless all of the internet ancom larpers overthrow the government by then (doubt), so I’d rather deal with the one who will be marginally less bad and who didn’t try to overthrow the government. Can’t have your revolution if nobody’s alive cause you kept pushing off politically participating because there was no perfect option. 👍

Political pragmatist anon, sorry for ranting in your askbox but I feel like I lose brain cells watching these people talk. The other day I saw someone say Biden is bad because Roe v. Wade fell under his administration… even though the reason for that was Trump appointed justices. 💀 (2/2)

Fucking insane. Sincerely.

It's a completely, flatly binary choice for anyone with a brain stem and sincerity. It's distilled into the two below images:

Where all major third party candidates are even on the ballot

How many electoral votes the largest of those (green party, a.k.a. Jill Stein) would win if they won every single state they're on the ballot for.

They are literally, legally, incapable of winning the election. They are not on enough state ballots to win and Jill Stein would need to somehow win California and Texas to even "win" all the states they're on the ballot for. Which, again, would still not be enough to win the presidency and throw it to the currently existing Republican House of Representatives. Which would put Trump in office.

It's that straightforward. That simple. That BLARINGLY obvious to literally everyone except these people.

On the one hand you have:

Significant and continuous support for Israel and it's genocide

Record levels of pardons for low-level drug offenses

the gearing up of the strongest anti-trust regime since the early 20th century

the most aggressive NLRB I've seen in my lifetime, with massive wins and institutional changes to help workers

Including getting Rail strike workers a week of sick-leave that gets paid out at the end of the year, which is better than NYC and LA sick leave laws

Millions of people (not enough) getting student debt forgiveness

Some trillion dollars (not enough)of investment in renewable resources and infrastructure

Proposed taxes on unrealized capital gains (a.k.a. how billionaires never have any money but can still buy Kentucky, Iowa, and Twitter)

Effectively an end to overdraft fees

The explicit support of leftist world leaders like Lula de Silva. Who he has explicitly worked with to expand worker rights in South America.

Has capped (some, not enough, only a tiny amount really but it's something) some drug prices, including Insulin.

Reduced disability discrimination in medical treatment

Billions in additional national pre-k funding

Ending federal use of private prisons

Pushing bills to raise Social Security tax thresholds higher to help secure the General Fund

Increasing SSI benefits

and more

Said Israel should just nuke Gaza and "get it over with"

Personally takes pride in and credit for getting Roe v Wade overturned

Is arguing in court that the President should be allowed to assassinate political rivals

Muslim Ban Bullshit, insistently

Actively damages our global standing and diplomatic efforts just by getting obsessed with having a Big Button

Implemented massive tax cuts on ich people, tax hikes on middle class and poor people, and actively wants to do it again

"Only wants to be a dictator for a little bit, guys, what's the big deal"

Is loudly publicly arguing that the US shouldn't honor its military alliances after-the-fact

Tore up an effective and substantial anti-nuclear-proliferation treaty with Iran

Had a DoEd that actively just refused to process student debt forgiveness applications that have been the law of the land for decades now

Has a long record of actively curtailing and weakening the NLRB and labor movement, including allowing managers to retaliate against workers, weakened workplace accommodation requirements for disabled people, and more

Rubber stamped a number of massive mergers building larger, more powerful top companies and increasing monopolistic practices

Fucking COVID Bullshit and hundreds of thousands of unnecessary deaths

Openly supporting fascists and wannabe-bootlicks ("Very fine people" being only the beginning of it

It's really not fucking close.

#biden #trump #gaza #palestine #politics #original content #union rights #realism #2024 election #jill stein #rfk jr #cornell west

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ode2rin · 10 months

Text

only for tonight

pairing. mikage reo x gn!reader + suggestive | making out

midnight haze. empty opulent halls. hushed clandestine meetings.

and a hand holding yours as if you were the only souls living.

reo grasped your hand tighter, pulling you closer to him as he led you to a secluded, dark hall of the mansion.

without uttering a word, reo gently pressed you against the cool, stone wall, his heart pounding in sync with your own. with just one glance, his lips found yours, and the world around you seemed to fade into oblivion.

he tasted like whiskey, mixed with temptation and whole damnation. he tasted like a sin you'd spend your life paying for.

he was a perfect blend of devastation and sacredness poured into a crisp black tie suit. so high and shiny, that your hands on his neck looked like filth in gold.

and yet, you returned the kiss with no trace of inhibition. you kissed him like an insatiable and famished prisoner begging for alms.

and you might as well be considered a real prisoner with you roaming your calloused hands around a man like him.

but if it makes you a prisoner to touch him, then you willingly submit your soul to the crime of loving mikage reo.

to touch him is a sin, yet heaven be damned for making his touch feel like redemption.

time lost its meaning as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, as if you were afraid to let go. your fingers ran through his hair, relishing the softness under your touch. the warmth of his hand on your waist sent shivers up your spine, and you leaned into his embrace, cherishing the contrast between his warmth and the coolness of the wall against your back.

reo’s fingers traced a gentle path along your jawline, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. his lips found their way to your jaw down to your collarbones, and you tilted your head back, granting him more access. you couldn’t help but claw his shoulders from the way he’s leaving lingering bites to your neck.

for someone who can’t be seen with you, he sure does love giving you marks for the whole world to see.

you pulled his head closer, your lips brushed against his ear as you whispered breathlessly, “they're going to look for you, young master –”

“reo. just reo,” he cut you off, halting on his pleasure to correct you, “i told you countless times to call me by my name.”

“i– reo, you must leave now. the guards will start looking for you.”

“then tell me to stop.” reo’s voice was soft, yet intense and commanding, he gently held your face, hands cupping your cheeks.

“tell me to stop if you don't want this – if you don’t want me. you know i’ll do everything you want.”

but that was the thing, everything about him makes you want more.

the world could crumble around you, and still, you would seek his smile, his laugh, his touch – everything he is.

everything about mikage reo unleashes a greed you haven't even yet grasped. more, more, more, all of this. you want more of his fire, so much you wouldn't mind burning.

i want you. i love you. risk it. run away with me.

you wanted to let him know, you wanted to scream it for him – for everyone to know. so damn bad that you kissed him senselessly, selfishly, and thoughtlessly to stop your burning fantasies coming out of your throat.

“i don't want you to stop.” just for tonight. “again, kiss me again. make me yours.” only for tonight.

a whirlwind of emotions danced in his eyes, searching for any uncertainty in yours, and when he found not even a trace, his lips curled in a smile that would surely haunt you in your dreams when this comes to an end.

“my pleasure. hold tight now, love.”

he lifted you effortlessly, wrapping your thighs around his torso as he carried you, gently pushing your head towards him to lock you in a passionate kiss.

with a gentle ease, he laid you down the mattress, never breaking your lips apart. the world seemed to fade once more, and all that remained was that you were going to claim him yours.

in this bed, on this dark night, where everyone was asleep, he was yours.

and you were going to love him like it's the last thing your breath could afford. because once morning comes, you're giving him back to the glory he belongs.

note. thank you dearest @/kiyumiya for checking if it's too much xD

#☁️ my ode to you #mikage reo #reo mikage #mikage reo x reader #reo mikage x reader #mikage reo x y/n #blue lock imagines #blue lock x reader #bllk imagines #bllk x reader

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 10 months

Text

Supernova

A/N: *sigh* here we are again simping over a man I shouldn't be. Oh well.

Summary: Imprisoned in deep space, Ettore discovers an old flame still burns as bright. And hurts just as much. NSFW, 18+, Minors DNI

Warnings under the cut~ | Word Count: 5.4k~ | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Ettore Taglist

Warnings: toxic relationships, mentions of sexual related crimes, cursing, choking, Ettore being a simp, masturbation, oral (m receiving), rough sex, biting, face slapping, hair pulling, fingering, pussy slapping, mouth fuccin, swallowing

Of all the fucking people to see on this ship.

He’d have picked anyone else, to be honest. Any other rat-faced, intemperate bitch to spend the rest of his miserable young life with. To wait out his days ‘til, eventually, they’d all die. He could deal with the other female prisoners, it’s not like all of the women on the ship were that bad to look at. Just most of them. Crime had done a number on them after all those years, many of them sullen in the face, violence brimming beneath their expressions.

But he’d take them all on, every single day of his life, instead of her.

His fucking ex-girlfriend.

A brief relationship. Yes. But it frustrated him all the same.

It had been years since then at least, so the sheer bitterness of seeing her again wasn’t so fresh. She’d looked his way once in passing in the canteen, but had not lingered. Perhaps she didn’t even recognise him.

But he’d recognise her anywhere.

Ettore. Who now wouldn't be seen dead in a relationship, having done the terrible things that landed him here.

Ettore. Who had a questionable past with women.

She’d changed. Matured somewhat. Before, she was smaller, slimmer, not a woman you would usually associate with such violence. But what she lacked in stature she made up for in temper, even back then she was a loaded gun with the safety off, threatening to shoot her rage in any direction she seemed necessary.

And for whatever reason at the time, when he was younger, a bit more stupid he supposed, blinded by her striking nature, they’d gotten into a relationship, though never defined. One that was equally destructive to each of them.

He’d always been in and out of the police station. He wasn’t smart, so he didn’t easily evade capture. But she did. She always got off light, using her sex to her advantage. It was much easier when a barely twenty year old girl could easily go from violent offender to playing the victim with a simple expression change. She did it too well.

But now, clearly, she’d done something even she couldn’t escape from.

How many years had it really been? He couldn’t really even remember. They'd all blurred together.

All he cared to remember of their relationship was that it was toxic, on both parts. Never in terms of outright violence, it wasn’t like that, but they hurt each other with their words, with their actions and attitudes. Where he was cold and not willing to back down and admit his wrongdoings, she was sharp, quick-witted, but her insults hurt him the most.

But it was exciting. God it was so fucking exciting to be with her.

As wrong as it was, the only manner in which either of them knew how to get the anger to simmer down, was to fuck. It’s possibly the healthiest sexual relationship he’s had with a woman, and that’s saying something. He doesn’t dwell on that fact too much.

Whenever they had a fight, which was extremely regular, they would expel it with hate sex. It was rough, aggressive, borderline violent. And they would say as much to each other, before submitting their bodies, tangled against each other like strangling.

Now, looking at her. Her maturity astonished him. She, in principle, hadn’t changed, but there was something about her that he couldn’t shake. He couldn’t tell how he felt that she didn’t recognise him. Most of the prisoners were indifferent to each other, barely talking even in close situations, so that wasn’t out of the ordinary, but he felt the simmer of that nostalgic anger again when he saw her.

Since realising it was her, his use of the Box had increased dramatically. Using his imagination was horrendous. She was right there. He could have the real thing if he wanted. And yet he found himself, stroking his cock vigorously to the memories of their chaotic fucking. Remembering the way her breath used to feel against his skin, holding back her sounds from being too loud, the way her tits pressed against his chest, the way the flesh of her thighs felt in his palm as he raised them to rut into her deeper. Her skin. Voice. Taste. He wanted to sink his teeth into her, and lick at the blood that pooled to the surface; would she taste as sweet as she used to? For some reason, he thought she would taste better now.

Fucking his hand to the thought of her wasn’t enough, he needed to feel her pussy choke him for all he was worth. Needed to stuff himself inside her until she winced as he reached the end of her. He would pull her back by her hips, digging his fingers in as far as they would go, and watch as he disappeared inside her, each thrust punctuated by her sweet moans.

Each day that went by, her ignorance of him was growing too much. Those dark feelings he’d buried since they broke up and he went down his own path of crime were now bubbling to the surface, angry at having been suppressed for so long.

Now that he had seen her. She was everywhere.

He nearly cracked when he saw her walk the short route from the showers to her cell, her hair all wet and already dressed in her sleepwear, which left little to the imagination. It was the closest he'd come to seeing her body in years.

He wasn't shy about admitting it to himself what he thought in that moment.

Thought about grabbing her, pinning her down. He'd use restraints if he had to. Ripping those shorts off and just taking her right there, not caring if she was ready or not. Just a pure animalistic desire put entirely being fucking himself into her.

He didn't.

But the reins on his control were slipping.

He watched across the canteen as she went to put her tray back, eyes floating over her form. The red scrubs they all wore were shapeless, but his eyes were boring holes in it, wondering if she still looked the same, if her tits would still fill his palm as effortlessly as they used to.

Another male prisoner was talking to her, in a clear, over-zealous manner, with a stupid grin on his face. He was talking excitedly, shooting his shot. And Ettore stared darkly, eyes flitting between them and gauging her reaction.

Something akin to excitement and pride bolted through him when she turned away, rolling her eyes.

God she still does that. Fucking brat.

He watched as she walked away, his eyes fixed on the sway of her hips, the slope of her neck. There’s a heat burning in his belly, one he recognises as desire. He feels his cock impossibly hard at the prospect of having her again.

It’s beyond dark in the hallways by the time he’s finished in the Box. He fans his shirt against his chest as he leaves, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the corridor, barely even seeing someone is waiting for him to be done, leaning against the wall.

His whole body goes warm when his eyes land on her, waiting there with ankles crossed, tapping her foot against the linoleum floor. But when the door opened, she looked up at him, having to bite her cheek to suppress her grin.

The little bitch had known it was him the entire time.

And had chosen to ignore him.

He stood, as amused as she was, and she didn’t move an inch as he stalked towards her, except when she brushed her hair out her face to look at him better. Their eyes bore into each other as he leaned his arm next to her, against the wall, right next to her head. Though she was a head shorter than him, she looked at him as if she held all the cards.

“Ettore” she greeted, her tone rising at the end.

Fuck. Her voice.

He tried hard not to grin. He thought she was being a little temptress and knew entirely what she was doing, pressing all his buttons she knew existed. Poking and prodding at the darkness that lingered under his skin, threatening to burst free in goosebumps.

She raised an eyebrow when he didn’t respond, “I'd say it's nice to see you but…”

“Hm” he responded low in his chest. She was so close. He could just reach out and touch her, she was real. “Considering how things ended”

It was her turn to hum, something dark behind her eyes, “We were younger. Stupid. Especially you” she teased, “We just weren’t right for each other”

Fuck. You. Ettore thought.

“Maybe you’re right…” he hummed, “...we were a bad combination. But you have to admit…we had something. Didn't we"

She smirked, seeing an open window, “Is that what you think about? When you’re in there” she cocked her head towards the Box, “Do you think about me?”

You know I fucking do.

Ettore’s smile faded, replaced by an expression of silent rage. She stood there watching him vibrate with need, practically able to feel the thumping of his heart, able to hear how his blood sloshed around inside him, humming with a deep, dark desire.

“Do you still think about our fights?” she asked, her voice provoking, “how they always ended?” she was speaking in a whisper now, and Ettore’s hand formed a fist, his body yearning to touch her. And how she just stood there, knowing entirely what she was doing to him, with that bratty fucking smirk on her face. He wanted to wipe it off, show her who he was now.

“Savour that memory. Because it’s not happening again” she smiled, slipping from the wall towards the Box.

He saw red, and grabbed her arm tightly, pulling her back with force. Don't you know what I've done, stupid bitch. Her amused expression never falters.

"Nobody says no to me"

“Now, now, play nice” she taunts, “If you do, I will too”

“Who said I want you nice” he asked with a hard expression, “I’m not looking for nice”

Her damned smile is driving him crazy. And he’s surprised, when he shouldn’t be, when he grabs her face but she doesn’t move an inch. His fingers press against her jaw tightly, surely hurting her. Her eyes look over his face, beguiling him, perhaps taking in how much about him had changed.

“I always did bring out the worst in you, didn’t I”

Ettore grinned darkly, “You know how I like it”

Their faces are so close, they can feel one another’s hot breaths, lips yearning to collide like two stars, to only self-destruct into supernova. From here, he can see how his fingers are making red indents in her skin, the way her chest moves from her breathing and how her pupils dilate at the forceful nature of their attraction. He wonders if underneath this hard, bratty exterior, if she is soaking wet for him, pathetic little bitch.

“Christ, you still drive me fucking crazy”

She grins at that, as if she’s won. He hates that self-righteous look on her face. And being so close to him, practically touching, she can feel his manhood throbbing through the thin material of his scrubs, desperately seeking fulfilment.

“What do you say we find somewhere, recreate some of those old memories”

She hums, pulling her face forcibly from him, “Dream on” she shrugs, “Use your imagination”

Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be.

He would be offended, angry even. If he didn’t know her. And knew that this was her nature.

She makes a point of standing in the doorway of the Box, forearms leaning against the frame. Provoking him.

He gives her a cold, hard look, “What if I don’t want to? What if I want the real thing?”

“There’s plenty of women here. Maybe you could pretend it’s me” she winks, making his heart freeze in his chest for a moment, “Goodnight, Ettore”

Fucking tease.

The Box door shuts and he has to ground himself, digging his nails into his palm, thinking about what she’s doing to herself behind that door. What pretty sounds she would make, when his cock forced its way into her again.

When he laid in bed, trying to ignore the stark blue light of the ship and the incessant hum. That wasn't keeping him awake.

What would she do, if he just walked into her cell, began to touch her sleeping form, running his hand over her soft skin. Was she a deep sleeper still, as she used to be? Would his hand on her flesh wake her up?

He imagined kissing and biting her neck, marking her as his own, as she was always meant to be. And if she did wake up soon enough, she'd find him pulling off her underwear, teasing his hot and angry tip against her slit.

It'd be easy to take it by force. He could. If he wanted to.

She was different to the other women, the ones he'd had after her. The ones who met their end.

They were all stupid, wanting a love from him that they could never get in a million years. Wanted more than he could offer. Something they paid for with their lives.

She never expected his love. She saw the darkness in his eyes and wanted to see more of it, to see what abyss it led to in his soul. She had seen that side of him and nurtured it, fed it. Let him take his anger out on her body, and revelled in it, with that look she always gave him, when she knew he wanted it.

She'd given that look today, seeing that darkness lingering in him. Perhaps she wondered if she could fan those flames and see how brightly he'd burn, no matter the cost to them both.

He thought about back then. How he used to start fights, just so he got to fuck her the way they both liked.

It made him hard thinking about it.

He wanted her to want it. Something he'd never admit. Deep down, perhaps he'd known she wanted it too.

It was that odd familiar feeling. Like a spark is igniting his insides when he sees her actively talking to the other guys on the ship. Namely Monte. Tall and broad. Prick.

There is jealousy, sure. But also that raw unbridled lust that used to drive him. Drive them. Maybe she hasn't changed as much as he thought.

He wonders. Could he still make her burn like she used to? Could he still feel the heat himself, and let himself be marred by it?

He'd been so cold for so long.

He wanted to feel alive again.

It frustrated him to no end, now that she knew how much he wanted her again, how much her attitude had flipped. Entertaining the flirting of other guys. She’d taken to wearing tank tops, deliberately not wearing anything underneath, and wearing her scrub bottoms low on her waist, sometimes so low he swore he could see the dimples at the base of her spine, where he used to rest his thumbs to tug her body to his.

Any guy that flirts, or so much as passes a glance in her direction, however overzealous, she welcomes with a wicked grin and flirts back, just to irk him. Whenever her eyes met his, they glinted with pride at getting the reaction she’d wanted.

He felt almost feverish, every nerve and vein in his body felt piping hot. Blood rushed to his cock with astonishing speed whenever she so much as breathed in the same room as him. And the flirting? His fists were tight, white-knuckled, seeing that smug look on her face.

They don’t understand you like I do. Nobody will know your body like I do.

She turns away from Monte, who has a stupid fucking smile again, as if he ever has a chance. And her eyes meet Ettore’s over her shoulder.

Their eyes lock. As if she is saying what are you going to do about it.

A challenge.

Break. Come to me. Show me how much you want me.

He couldn’t wait. Tonight she’d scream.

Staying awake at night, he knew all her movements. She always gets up in the middle of the night, with such quiet, delicate footsteps and goes to refill her water bottle.

It was the only window of opportunity he found, to be alone with her.

Careful not to wake his cellmates, he crosses the threshold out to the corridor, the blue light straining his eyes. But just barely enough to see her disappear around the corner. He felt the chill of the air conditioning on his bare chest, skin prickling up, but it was overcome with the heat that ran through his blood. He was sure that his own cells inside him were vibrating, aching to collide with hers.

He grinned, darkly with all his teeth, when he saw the back of her. If she had heard him approach she didn’t show it. And he thought she was perfect for being taken right then, just how she was. In her sleepwear, a top that hung too big on her, with a pair of shorts on her bottom half, her hair tied in a loose bun, messy from writhing around in bed.

When he heard the water stop, he pushed forward, grabbing her bun and shoved her so hard into the wall he was sure she hit her face against it. It’s pitiful how he groaned low in his chest, the way his erection pressed against her soft ass, how flush his chest was to her back, standing tall over her as if he might kill her.

She gasped and winced slightly at the tight hold he had on her hair, her water bottle forgotten and water spilled to the floor. She hummed a laugh as he twisted her arm behind her back,

“This is pathetic, even for you”

“Shut the fuck up” he whispered, breath hot against the shell of her ear. A pleasant shiver ran through her, “can’t stand you prancing around, acting like a fucking slut with them”

He forgot how strong she was, for someone her size, as she yanks her hands away from him, elbowing him in the chest, making him grunt, annoyed.

“Fucking-” he grabs her again, shoving her back hard against the wall, curling his hand around her slender neck and squeezing slightly, pulling her up to look at him. He can tell just how hard she is trying not to smile, and it only makes his simmering anger build.

He can feel how tight his chest gets when he looks at her, feeling primal at the way his lungs inflate and deflate, “You know you want it, like you did back then” he growls.

She scoffs, “Back then?” she says with a bemused raise of her eyebrows, “...that was then”

“And it can be now too”

It’s like those nights back then, when he’d just become consumed in the smell of sex, just to satiate his hunger for her.

“I don’t think so” she smirks, choking in some air when his thumb presses slightly into her windpipe, choking tighter. He can feel her tits press against his chest as she breathes, the colour coming to her cheeks the harder he pushes on her neck.

“You think anyone could fuck you like I do?”

“I think Monte could” she grins.

He scoffs, pressing himself into her impossibly harder, allowing her to feel his hardness grazing against her clothed cunt.

“You want me to fight for you, don’t you, you little bitch”

Her own hands join his at her neck, fingers trying to dig under his. He can feel her heartbeat through her veins and he allows himself to wonder what she’d feel like inside. He’s never felt more torn, more in control but not at the same time.

“I’ve changed a lot since you last saw me. Done horrible things” she says,

“I don’t give a fuck about that”

I just want to remember how good I made you feel. How good you made me feel. To give you what you want.

She smiles softly, “It was always like this, wasn't it…us hurting each other” her eyes seem to study his face, and though almost imperceptible, his grip loosens somewhat, “I think it turns you on” she whispers, “does it excite you?”

The air seems thin in his chest at what she said. They were both awful people, there was no doubt about it. But that was what drew him in, and what continued to make him come back to her.

That she never judged him for those things, because she was just as bad.

“I think you want to hurt me” she smirks, “you’re pathetic”

Something clicks inside, Ettore crashes his lips against her, knocking his teeth against hers and kissing her belligerently, and though it’s rough and chaotic, she sighs contently into his mouth. It’s a mess of tongues and teeth, the way they kiss reflective of what is going on inside them. And the more he feels her hot breath and lips against his, the more his blood sings with desire, all flooding below his waist, pressing his erection against her stomach.

He pressed his thigh between hers, nudging them apart, one hand dipping beneath the hem of her shirt to feel her hot skin, trailing up and taking her shirt with it when he palms at her breast. He swallows her quiet moan as he kneads the flesh beneath his hand, his lips trailing from hers and dragging his nose across her cheek, taking this moment to breathe in her individual scent. He mouths at her neck, biting softly at first, but becoming more rough as he feels her jolt when his teeth sink into her skin, his tongue running across the bruised skin, groaning when he tastes the slightest bit of coppery blood.

“Stop that” she all but breathes, shoving her shoulder against him in reprimand.

He squeezes her breast hard at that, pushing her so much against the wall as if he is trying to mould her to it.

“You’re mine”

She even has the gall to laugh at him for saying that, despite the position they’re in.

With fire in his veins, pressing his bare chest against her, he bunches her tank top in his fists and tugs, the fabric surrendering beneath the harshness of his fingers, revealing her tits to him finally. His hips rut into hers, pushing her up the wall, one hand clutching her ass in his hand to keep her there as he mouths her other breast, running his tongue over the rosy bud.

Her head tilts back, landing on the wall with a thud as his wet muscle pleasures one nipple, nipping every now and then on the sensitive skin, and the other being moulded in his calloused palms. It feels better than before. Though even now, they’re considered young, they’d seen the glimmer of themselves before all this. And now, hurtling through space, he’s found her again, and this time there’s no letting her go.

Soft moans slip from her mouth, running her fingers through his hair and tugging hard, it makes him moan out as well, the vibration coursing through him into her chest.

His hand slips from her breast, trailing down her front, over her stomach to the hem of her underwear, not even wasting time and dipping beneath. Long, thick fingers glide over her slick mound, down to her entrance, where he shoves them inside her as far as they will go. He feels her body go rigid for a moment, a shocked gasp falling from her mouth, before they turn swiftly into whimpers and moans as he fucks her with his fingers.

She’s so wet, it’s easy. And he feels just how tight she is, every single ridge, just the feeling of her hot insides makes him want to bury himself inside of her as much as he can, as often as he deems fit. After a few moments, he finds that rough spot inside, using his fingers to rub hard against it. Her back arches against the wall, pressing her tits against his chest, the hardened buds rubbing almost painfully sensitive against his skin, her hands squeeze his shoulders and he groans at the sensation of her nails digging in.

“Say you want it” he whispers low against her ear.

He knows she does. He feels how wet she is for him, her sounds.

Her eyes crack open, her lips part in pleasured pants, curling up into a hedonistic smile, “No”

His mouth forms a frown. But she knows better.

He pulls his fingers out of her, giving a hard wet slap to her that makes her jolt and her clit throb, then going to tug her underwear down her legs. She kicks at him, writhing in his hold, her small fists trying to push him back.

“I said no”

“Yeah, yeah” Her face whips to one side and she whimpers as her cheek blooms with pain from his palm, “shut the fuck up”

Despite the hot pain on her face, she feels her insides flutter, clenching around nothing as she looks back at him, to see the hard expression he gives as she shoves his shorts past his hips. Her eyes land on his cock, all hard with the angry red tip weeping precum desperately.

“There he is” she smirks.

He props her up against the wall and shoves himself harshly inside her, barely giving her time to adjust to his size and length, until he hits her spongey end. Her chest erupts in a pink flushed colour, air expelled from her lungs.

He trembles slightly as he bottoms out inside her, completely filling her with himself and feeling her walls quiver uncontrollably around him. Squeezing the flesh of her thighs, he thrusts mercilessly into her, seeking the ultimate fulfilment he feels only her body can offer.

Ettore makes few sounds other than his hurried breaths and grunts into her ear, pushing himself so close to her that the only movement is his hips slapping against her thighs and the wet smack of their moist skin meeting each other. He grabs her face, digging into the skin where he’d hit her and keeps her quiet with his lips on hers, moving his tongue against hers. She hears his low sounds in his throat, deep and primal.

They fuck like they’re fighting, as they always had done. Fingers leaving red welts where he’d gripped her too hard, the mark on her cheek reddening, even the lewd sound of her pussy accepting him, it was all angry and aggressive.

She tightens her grip on the hair at his nape, chasing that pressure that was starting to build in her gut. She can feel him grin against her neck, he must be able to feel it too, the way her cunt trembles around him, the way her eyebrows furrow together and her lips caught between her teeth.

“You gonna cum for me?”

“Fuck you” she breathes, her voice strained by desire.

She never wanted to admit the things he did to her, sexual or not, made her feel excited and dangerous all at the same time. He huffs air as he laughs against her, feeling a sheen of sweat begin to cover his back as the effort of fucking her.

“You asked for it” his thumb pushes past her teeth, collecting her saliva on his thumb before dragging it down her body between them, rubbing in fast, furious circles on her overly-sensitive bud. It makes her strain her neck as she throws her head back, a barely-contained moan escaping.

“Just give up”

There’s little resolve left in her, the way his thick cock bullies that spot inside, pushing against her walls at the top in this position. The sheer lewdness of the situation had her nearly forget where they were, just fucking in a random hallway, and it sends a bolt of excitement down her spine at the thought of getting caught.

He watches how he disappears inside her, a ring of her arousal white at the base of him, how wet she sounds with each slap of skin. Hastening the circles on her clit, she grips him at his nape tight as he buries his face against her shoulder, her entire being shuddering as her orgasm blazes a burning trail through every limb, every cell, igniting her in a way only he ever could.

“Fuck-”

It’s the only sound he’s capable of making as an all-body shudder rolls through him. The way she clenches around him, holding him tightly.

He quickly pulls out of her, briefly feeling disappointed at the loss of her tightness, fisting his cock to completion. That is until she falls to her knees in front of him, looking up at him through her eyelashes, watching the way his chest heaves from this angle.

Cock slick with her arousal, watching the way he fists it quickly, she feels that familiar tug of arousal below her belly button.

His fingers thread through her hair, tugging at the crown to pull her face towards him. Holding himself at the base, he drags the tip over her lips, leaving a glistening path of both his and her arousal behind that she quickly collects with her tongue. Her lips chase his length before enveloping the tip in her mouth, running her tongue over the already sensitive slit.

A long, exasperated sound between a breath and a moan rushes out of him, having to lay his hand flat against the wall as she begins to bob her head on him, accepting his cock into her mouth with a renewed vigour, watching how he reacts.

Gripping her hair tight, she hums around him, sending a pleasant roll of warmth up his spine, and he tugs her head towards him, using her face for leverage to fuck himself into her mouth. He feels himself hit the back of her throat, and how her mouth contracts as she gags softly, trying to relax her jaw.

She closes her eyes as he sets his pace, hands resting on his thighs only slightly as she feels his hips press against her face. His cock bullies the back of her throat with a lewd wet sound, and it’s so intense, that she can feel her eyes watering, her slick gathering between her thighs once again and the throb of her previous orgasm still rolling through.

He’s so close and she can feel it, and when she looks up at him, his head is thrown back, chest rising and falling steadily, eyes scrunched shut as his own pressure builds. She would’ve smirked at it, if he wasn’t buried to the hilt in her mouth. He looked the most handsome light this, pink in the face with his muscles of his stomach flexing, trying to hold back.

As soon as her hands cup his balls, hurtling him towards his own orgasm, his jaw slackens and his grip hardens in her hair in such a satisfyingly painful way.

“Shit-” he pulls himself from her mouth, shoving her head back to the wall and she takes a much needed breath in, “Open”

He fists his cock to her open mouth, his blue, wild eyes boring into hers, chest tightening as he comes undone and releases thick ropes of cum onto her waiting tongue. She blinks up at him, both of them smelling of sex and arousal, her breasts heaving with her breathing. In the stark, low light of the corridor, his face looks so sharp, as if it were made of stone, with a glow that almost looked inhuman.

She dives on him again, sucking off the remainder of his cum and pressing her tongue to the underside, tracing the throbbing vein there. The over-stimulation has Ettore shiver slightly, releasing his hold on her for a moment as she pulls off him with a wet pop. He watches with a lewd curiosity as her throat contracts, a sigh from her lips showing how she had swallowed all of him. Her eyes glisten in a kind of gloating pride right up at him, a mischievous glint behind it all as she smiles in satisfaction.

He pulls her up with a hard grip on her arm, letting his eyes fall all over her body.

“Miss me?” she whispers against his lips.

“Shut up” he responds with a grin, crashing his lips to hers. Binding himself to her irreparably.

And even though it damages them both, it just hurts too good to even think about stopping.

dividers by @saradika

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#ettore x you #ettore high life #ettore smut #ettore x reader #ettore #ettore fan fic #ettore fanfic #ettore fan fiction #ettore fanfiction #high life fanfic #high life fanfiction #high life 2018 #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters #ewanverse

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