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feyascorner · 4 months

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1 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. “I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.”

Intimacy is not something you like to indulge in after your last lover nearly strangled you to death. Sometimes, you wonder if letting him ascend would mean he would still be here, by your side, rather than lurking the shadows of Baldur's Gate.

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. very excited about this!!!! I have a lot of ideas on what to do w this plot!!! ALSO there is some material (pressuring??) in this specific chapter that may be a bit uncomfortable for some readers it's very brief, but it is there so please take care of yourself!

As dark spots blur your vision, you realize you can no longer breathe.

His hands–the slender pale fingers you’ve grown to love more than your own–wrap desperately around your throat, digging crescent-shaped indents into your skin. You’d always thought that if he were ever to realize you weren’t as precious to him as he believed you to be, your neck would be the one part of yourself he’d continued to cherish. The softness in which he brushed his fangs against the most vulnerable areas of your throat had led you to believe so.

But as you stare up at him with wide eyes meeting a murderous glare, you understand that you are wrong.

His crimson eyes gleam with an emotion you’ve seen plenty on his pretty face, but never toward a friend. Never to you. You’re going to die, you think. And it wouldn’t have seemed so bad to die at his hands if it were not for the hatred reaching his eyes.

You’re not sure who–maybe Karlach or Wyll–but someone tears him away from you. Your chest dares to tighten from the loss of contact, yet you desperately grasp at the air, hands flying to the tender flesh of your neck while Shadowheart rushes to your side in an instant with her eyes narrowed dangerously at the very man who’d made the dark blemishes.

They’re yelling. Everyone is. At you, out of panic, or at Astarion, you’re not sure, but you just stare at the vampire spawn who’s now unwillingly locked into a life cast into the shadows of the city. He doesn’t look at anyone else, either.

He says something and a few more muffled voices spit back before he throws the dagger you’d given him to the ground, turning to leave. Your hearing clears just in time to hear his parting words.

“I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.”

A pair of hands shake you awake, and you quickly remember the poor consequences to your back of falling asleep on the empty, narrow street beside the Elfsong tavern. You look up wearily, eyes in a daze as Shadowheart sighs irritably, brows furrowed in a way that tells you to ready yourself for a scolding. “Honestly, at this point, I’m just surprised you haven’t gotten robbed during the night yet.”

You force yourself onto your feet, leaning against the walls as you rub at the crust forming under your eyes. “I have nothing of value anyway. They’re better off stealing from some other poor bard who actually bothers to write songs.”

She raises a brow at this, scanning over your appearance. “Where is your lyre?”

“Sold it,” you shrug, dusting off the muck garnered at the sides of your pants. “Wasn’t much use to me anymore. Better off adding to the funds to rebuild the city, don’t you think?”

Shadowheart frowns, and it makes you look away shamefully. Thankfully, she quickly shakes her head and then paces past you. “Speaking of which, are you in any condition to help today? Gale’s promptly exhausted trying to cast mage hand at least a dozen times yesterday to rebuild the Blushing Mermaid. That foolish wizard nearly passed out by noon.”

“‘Course,” you offer a pathetic smile. “We’re nearly finished with the Baldur’s Mouth. I’ll catch up with you once I check on everyone there.”

“Very well,” she says. She purses her lips after a slight pause. “You should stop falling asleep on the street. Especially since there’s been quite a few murders recently around the city,” she checks to see if you haven’t dazed off, “I expect you to come home tonight–We’re making stew.”

“I will. Don’t think my back can stand much more of this anyway.”

Her shoulders relax the slightest bit, and she finally manages to catch your darting eyes. “Is it the nightmares again? They’re getting worse, aren’t they?”

Your throat goes dry, and you can feel your knees grasping at its remaining strength as you search your mind for a way to respond. You’re tempted to lie through your gritted teeth, knowing she’s fully aware regardless of what pathetic answer you offer her, but you opt to seal your mouth shut, shrugging.

The flash of disappointment in her eyes is enough to make you feel the knots tighten in your stomach. With a curt note, she turns to walk away, glancing back for one last time. “Don’t give him the privilege of occupying a part of your mind for so long. He doesn’t deserve even the dirty filth you have all over yourself.”

For the first time after he nearly killed you and you defeated the Elder Brain four months ago, you think she might be right about him.

Intimacy is not something you like to indulge in after your last lover nearly strangled you to death. Though after the pitiful look your companions gave you when you arrived back at camp and the aching truth in Shadowheart’s words, you find yourself feeling bolder than the last time you dared to call Lae’zel’s cooking inedible (which it was, quite frankly).

He’s handsome. A reasonably tall elf with pale blue eyes glinting with attraction as he stares at you across the tavern. Sharp jawline, long eyelashes, and long hair brushed back and away from his face. You only notice everything else after the silvery shade of his hair–not entirely white, but fairly close, or as close as you could get to it while still being blond. You were sure he was approaching you for your title–the famed hero of Baldur’s Gate–rather than for pure physical attraction, but you weren’t in any position to nitpick at the moment.

You just wanted to feel skin other than the unsettling feeling of your own.

“Seems to have taken a liking to you,” Shadowheart sips at her drink.

Lae’zel glances at you. “He’s tolerable to the eye. Not quite attractive by githyanki standards, but tolerable.”

You stifle a smile at their attempts to urge you forward and put down your drink. “You sure you two won’t be lonely without me?...Or kill each other.”

“You can leave them to me,” Gale smiles, pacing toward your table with his drink. “I’m sure a Hold cast or two would settle them down.”

Lae’zel snatches the cup from his hand. “You act as if you aren’t fresh out of cast slots, wizard.”

Shadowheart shakes her head, nudging you forward. “Go. We’ll be fine.”

“I won’t be long. Certainly won’t be overnight,” you assure her. “I can’t miss the stew, anyway.”

She smiles, and Lae’zel scoffs in the other direction. “Hurry, he looks almost demented waiting for your graces.”

You snort and offer a clumsy glance to the elf across the tavern before striding out the door.

Behind the tavern, he’s quick to press a desperate kiss to your lips, lacking the usual tenderness you experienced with Astarion. Or had it been tender at all? Even now, you’re unsure what parts of him had been to manipulate you and what parts of him had been his raw feelings. At the time, you’d embraced either with open arms–you’d embraced him.

The elf bites at your lip, which snaps you back into the waking world. And while you curse yourself for comparing the moment to him, you find that it’s impossible as you observe that this elf is slightly shorter than he’d been. And instead of his hands wandering to your hip or waist, they graze your behind, pushing you into him in a way that feels nearly suffocating.

And most glaringly, his lips are warm. Not the cold, yet soft lips of an undead being.

You’re grateful that he keeps his eyes closed because you can simply stare at his pale hair, longing for something you vowed to forget.

It doesn’t feel right. Not at all, and you hate yourself for it.

You shove him away, face falling as you realize you want to wipe his touch away from your mouth like it’s filth, and you do. Understandably, he appears puzzled, brows furrowing as you push yourself away from the wall, shaking your head. “Sorry, I don’t think I can do this.”

But as you try to walk away, his fingers close around your wrist like a death grip, sending shivers up your spine as you find that you hate the feeling of his skin. You hate the feel of your own skin, too. Why, you’re not sure, but he leans close enough for you to feel his breath on your cheeks and yank you out of your daze. “What’s gotten into you? I didn’t do jack shit.”

“I just can’t do this,” you hiss, tugging at your hand. You could just knock him out, but the hero of Baldur’s Gate punching people as they pleased wouldn’t look too good on your end. “Let go.”

“Well, you have to give me at least an explanation,” he snaps, grip tightening. It hurts. “Don’t pretend you haven’t been sending me looks all night.”

His words seem to snap the remaining patience inside you because you elbow his stomach, shoving him backward onto his ass before pressing your dagger that seemed to appear from thin air into his neck. You haven’t had to use the knife in a while, considering how your biggest recent foe was the stinginess of patrons when it came time to pay their tabs at the tavern. Though it belongs to you, it feels foreign in your hands because, for a time, it had a different owner.

One who used this very blade against you. The same one who taught you how to elbow someone hard enough to make them reel.

“P-Please, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to hurt you.” You’d forgotten he was there. “Just let me go, please; I won’t bother you again.”

You drop your head, sighing loudly as you sheathe your dagger once more. You think you must really be losing your mind—threatening to slice open a civilian’s throat despite the significant power imbalance between the two of you. You’re sure the greatest threat he’s faced in his life is from petty theft or something along those lines while you—well, you’re you. It’d be equivalent to a full grown owlbear attacking a goblin with a half broken club.

So, as much as you want to make him bleed just a bit, you opt to step away. “Do that again to anyone—not just me, and I won’t be so forgiving next time. Understand?”

The tremble in his irises tells you enough. You sigh again, turning to leave.

You curse your luck. Of course you would have to attract the foulest person in the tavern on a night where nothing seemed to be going correctly. Or rather, the past four months that haven’t been going as you anticipated.

Getting rid of the tadpole meant you should’ve been free from the chains of someone else—and it had, but at the cost of losing something else. And that ‘something else’ was one you weren’t sure you were ever ready to sacrifice. It should have made you happy to see the Elder Brain fall, and to rid of the squirming feeling in your skull, but all you could remember was the churning in your stomach as you realized the last string tying you to him had been snapped.

You’d gone to every tavern, every bar, playing a tune at each one until the skin at your fingers split open, because he knew you’d be there. He’d known what your lyre meant to you. Yet among the sea of faces, not once had you seen the one you wanted.

As you walk around the corner, you wrap your arms around yourself. Though Summer’s quickly approaching, there’s still a chill in the air this late at night. You pull out your dagger once more, lifting it to the sky to examine its hilt against the moonlight, which glistens with what was once your pride and love. Now, it just looks dull, and faint.

You back feels too light, now lacking the lyre. You suppose you’ll have less of a hassle moving around now, since you don’t have to worry about the strings snapping, but it doesn’t soothe you. Still, you’d sold it for good reason.

An instrument is nothing without a player who can use it, after all.

So you turn your attention back to your dagger, the last crumb he’s left for you to hold dearly to your heart, and then to the trash can perched beside a nearby wall.

You’ve tried a million times before, and you’re not sure what makes you think you’ll be successive this time, but you swallow hard in determination to rid of the thing entirely. But just as you’re about to take your first step toward it, you hear a loud, halting screech muffled instantly.

It’s from the direction you came from.

You’re breaking into a silent sprint, the weapon in your hand ready to be used. You stop before you turn the corner, readying yourself for the worst. A murder? There’ve been more than a few occurring around the city, but you’d thought the Flaming Fist were investigating that already…You can hear your blood rushing in your head, but a crunch of bone and the silence that follows afterward is all you can focus on as your grip on the hilt tightens desperately.

Cautiously, you peer at the moonlit alleyway, poised to attack.

You nearly drop the blade.

Draped in the moonlight with his face hidden by a hood, he nearly glows, though you’re not sure if it’s just your mind playing tricks on you. His fangs are buried viciously into the man’s neck, whose legs and arms lie limply at his side while the life in his eyes slips away as if it were never there. And while you don’t dare to breathe, you stare with wide eyes, drinking in his appearance as if it would be the last. A part of you thinks it may be.

But as quickly as your heart begins to race, it calms. A drop of your stomach tells you it’s not him. You’re not sure if you’re relieved or how you know, but you can just tell.

The man finally drops the now lifeless body onto the ground with a thud, wiping at his mouth with the back of his dark sleeve. He turns, and you finally see one of Astarion’s brothers–the one who’d been at the flophouse, confirming your suspicions. Regardless, your guard stays up. “I thought you guys left for the Underdark.”

He snaps his head toward your voice, eyes wide. He looks a lot better than you’d last truly seen his face after Astarion nearly burned him against the sunlight in the flophouse. What had been his name, you try to recall? Pallet? Peter? It doesn’t matter, much. “You were at the flophouse.”

He cringes at the memory but nods. “Petras. You’re the one who stopped Astarion from killing us all, aren’t you?”

Your throat goes dry at that. You’d never thought about it in such a–vulgar way, and it makes your stomach churn, but he doesn’t give you time to respond.

“Dalyria, Leon, and I have decided to stay for the sake of the spawn hiding in the city sewers,” he explains curtly. “My other siblings are in the Underdark with most of the spawn, as you expect them to be.”

You stare at the corpse on the ground, expression twitching as you meet his eyes. “Why’d you kill him?”

He licks his lips, stained with the man’s blood. “I didn’t. Someone did the work for me. I just didn’t let his precious blood go to waste.” He pauses. “I’d put a few rats on betting that it’s Astarion.”

Your eyes go wide, your armed hands dropping to your side. “Astarion? He was here?”

You’d been here mere moments ago. Had he seen you? Was he watching you?

“Maybe. Judging from how quickly he ran away from the scene when he saw me, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Shoving your dagger into its rightful place on your back, you immediately turn to search for your former companion. He couldn’t have gone far. You’d been talking to the dead man mere minutes ago, and if the death occurred between now and then, he couldn’t have possibly gone more than a few buildings away–

“I never got to thank you.”

Petras looks at you anxiously, and as much as you’d like to cut the conversation short, the way he shifts nervously can’t help but keep you in place.

“There’s no need,” you reply, stopping to shake your head. You hadn’t done it for him or any of his siblings, for that matter, anyway. Not even for Astarion. Your choice to stop had been for yourself, to keep him by your side. Your brows furrow at the selfishness draping your thoughts—that you were willing to sacrifice 7000 innocent souls for the sake of protecting the one you loved. It was a lapse of judgement. Naivety. “It’s just how things turned out.”

He tilts his head but doesn’t push it any further. “Have you seen him recently? Astarion?”

“...No. He left after we—I killed Cazador.”

His eyes flicker with disappointment, and you wonder if he’s forgiven Astarion for what he tried to do in Cazador’s dungeon. “He’s always been good at hiding. Seems some things never change.”

You nod numbly. “I’ll let you know if I do see him.”

Though you doubt you ever will. Not after how things ended. But if there’s a slight chance, even the smallest of hopes, that you can bring closure to the sleepless nights you spend on the streets, staring up at a sky that no longer brightens the way it used to, you’re willing to wait until you’re shriveled up and old, while he remains beautiful.

“I don’t think he wants to see you right now.”

The painful clench in your heart doesn’t go ignored. “Have you spoken with him?”

“Once,” he says. “But it seems he doesn’t want to speak with us anymore either. You see, our conversation didn’t quite end in a happy family reunion. We did manage to ask him a few things—like asking if he was to be staying with you.”

“And?” You’re afraid to hear the answer, but your voice is far too hopeful.

Petras gives you a look of pity, and you understand.

You understand that no matter how long you wait or how long you search for him, Astarion will not be seen when he does not want to be.

“I don’t think he wants to see you right now.”

For the rest of the night, you weep. You weep in the comforts of nobody but your own arms and nobody to hear you but the moon above.

Baldur’s Gate is by no means a city that sleeps. The past four months have been a restless cycle of rebuilding the city, and while you’ve done your part, no matter how much you do, it never seems enough.

“Oh, welcome, dear. Your friends have been a wonderful help for my house as of late,” the lady of the Highberry’s Home, Cora Highberry, ushers you into her house, still missing a roof and half the windows but appearing in better shape than most other structures in the city. She offers you a wine glass. “Do you have a preference?”

“Anything’s fine,” you smile, but just as you reach for the glass, it’s snatched away by a familiar wizard’s hand.

Gale extends Cora a gentle nod and that charming grin of his as he hands her back the wine. “While we greatly appreciate your hospitality, I’m afraid my friend here is in no condition to drink as of now.”

The playful roll of your eyes makes Cora laugh. “Ah, of course. But do know I’m so grateful for all your help. I didn’t imagine we would be building the home back for the orphans so quickly!”

“It’s the least we could do,” Gale beams. “Now then, my dear friend and I will continue working on the second floor, so just give us a holler if you need us.”

He whisks you away toward the stairs before you can wave goodbye to the woman. While you’d expect him to initiate conversation, he doesn’t say anything until you arrive upstairs, where you’re mostly alone beside the few other volunteers in the other room. You tilt your head when he finally paces past you toward one of the broken windows. “Gale Dekarios keeping his mouth shut for more than a few moments? The city truly must be falling apart.”

He cracks a smile at this, dusting off a few glass shards from the windowsill. “I’m glad to see you still have your sense of charm.”

“When have I ever lacked my charm?”

He doesn’t lift his head, pulling out his spellbook and flipping through a few pages while you survey the state of the room. “You didn’t return last night.”

You tense.

“It would be wise to be grateful Karlach’s still in Avernus with Wyll, because I’m certain she would’ve given you quite the scolding for daring to miss my world-famous Wizard’s Stew,” he says lightly, his tone morphing into something more serious when he shifts his gaze in your direction. “We’re worried about you, you know. Especially Shadowheart, even if that woman doesn’t know what gentle means in every possible level of hell.”

He’s silently asking you for an explanation, and your heart breaks at how gently he prods at your walls, giving you an opportunity to slip away again. But with how his eyes plead at you, you can’t imagine that would be possible anyway. Slowly, you perch yourself on the windowsill, looking down at the bustling crowd working together to rebuild the Highberry’s porch. They’re laughing—some face red with wine, while others scold them for it. You see a bard playing a tune you haven’t heard before, but it’s effective in lifting the mood regardless, and you finally glance at Gale.

“I met one of Astarion’s brothers yesterday.”

His face is grim. “I didn’t realize they were still in the city.”

“Me neither,” you sigh. “Some of them stayed. From what I could tell, they're mostly in the sewers, but they’re definitely here.”

“Did he seem…hostile?”

“No. He just asked me about Astarion.” You leave out the part about the dead body.

Gale’s brows furrow, but he doesn’t say anything, only silently urging you to continue. And you do.

“He doesn’t want to see me. Not ever, I think.”

There it is. The same gaze everyone seems to give you lately: pity.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” you hop off the windowsill, pacing across to the other side of the room. “If he doesn’t want to see me, I won’t. If he doesn’t want to talk to me, I won’t. I’m tired of waiting for him, Gale. I’m tired of waiting for someone who won’t ever come.”

And despite the puffiness of your eyes last night, and despite the way your eyes gloss over even now, you offer him a crooked smile. “I want to focus on the city now, for better or worse.”

Gale appears the happiest he’s been since returning a few months ago with the news that Mystra has healed him of his orb. “You thought well, dear friend. You should know how glad we are to have you back. We could certainly use more hands in the kitchen, as well, considering—well, you know how the rest of our companions are with cooking.”

Just as you open your mouth, there’s an ear-shattering scream from downstairs. The two of you meet wide eyes briefly before hurrying downstairs.

Only a few feet from the patio of the Highberry home, there’s a crowd gathering with hushed whispers and the weeping of a woman. And when you manage to push through the mountain of people, you finally see the corpse.

Cora Highberry sobs over what remains of her bloody husband, who, without a doubt, has the markings of two fangs punctured through his throat.

#astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 x reader #fluff #angst with a happy ending #angst #bg3 x tav #bg3 tav #bg3 spoilers

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wonlvkay · 1 month

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― Enhypen reaction to you not being able to fall asleep

Warnings : fluff, insomnia, stress, depression, nightmares, trauma, family issues.

Comments, likes and reblogs are highly appreciated

Heeseung ★

he would be fast asleep before he heard a soft sob and would immediately get up. "what's wrong love?" he would ask with concern reaching out for you as you seek comfort in his arms. he knew you had nightmares due to you having a toxic family and traumatic experiences. he would sing to you rubbing your back softly. he would go to sleep only after making sure that your ok and soundly sleeping.

Jay ★

he felt you rolling around for a couple of minutes and called you up for a talk. "baby, come here". apparently you were so nervous about your finals coming up. you even insisted staying up the whole night to study more and was about to get out of bed when his arms wrap around your torso and bring you into his embrace and gave you talks building your courage.

Jake ★

you dealt with mild insomnia but you were improving your health in a constant pace but sometimes you just can't sleep. you felt guilty to wake jake up so you slipped out of the covers and went to the living room and was patting layla. he felt a warm empty spot when he reached out to you and woke up. he frantically searched for you and was relieved to find you curled up on the coach with layla. boy, he was jealous but still assured you that you can always talk to him when your facing difficulties. "stop cuddling with layla. your my princess, not her's" he whined.

Sunghoon ★

you had drunk a lot of caffeine since the morning despite his warnings and now you can't sleep. "but sunghoon, i craved for coffee" you whined with a pout. so you two just chose a film and settled down on the coach to enjoy it. unfortunately, the film was ignored and you both fell asleep in five minutes, tangled up in each others arms.

Sunoo ★

you visited your family today and came home feeling down and depressed. he didn't press on you to open up but he knew how toxic your family was and the bad affect they had on you. later that night you laid awake staring at the ceiling, trying to hold your tears. he would wrap his arms around you, letting you nuzzle into him as he comforted you. "you're so brave for facing all of that love. let out the tears". he would stroke your hair softly, planting kisses on the crown of your head.

Jungwon ★

you had returned from a trip to another continent and was jetlagged. your whole body clock was messed up and you laid awake tossing and turning. jungwon lit up some candles for you and you both talked about your day. luckily, the talk took your energy away. "maeumi did a trick you know-" he stopped talking as he realized you dozed off. he tucked you up and went to sleep but not before gushing over how cute you looked when you sleep.

Niki ★

you both were used to sleeping very late at night so you suggested you guys try to have a healthy sleep schedule and he agreed. things did not go easily as you two planned so now you two laid not feeling even a bit sleepy. niki had a solution for this. pillow fight! you both mucked around giggling like crazy. this activity drained out your energy and you both fell asleep in a mess of feathers. cleaning like on top of your list in the morning.

#kayla writes!!!#enhypen #heeseung #park jongseong #sim jaeyun #sunghoon #kim sunoo #jungwon #niki #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen fanfic #enhypen reactions

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spacesurfing · 1 year

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Oh no I’m sorry I didn’t know you weren’t taking requests but I cannot get jealous/possessive ani smut

I love his metal hand ahhh

It's alright, I don't mind writing for Ani! I love it too.

•--•

Where Are Your Manners?

Anakin Skywalker x Reader Smut

Summary: You found your way into trouble, loving Anakin. And the trouble you found tonight came in the form of his endless need to know you were only his.

Warnings: NSFW, mentioned long hair!reader, jealous!Anakin, choking, degrading, possessive!Anakin, maybe exhibitionism???, p in v, no protection whatsoever!!

•--•

Maybe you could blame Senator Amidala for this. You could blame the generous Senator and her even more generous friend, Senator Organa, for where you were. Well, where you were and where you were going to be in a half-an-hour.

You had objected at first, telling her that you were grateful for the kind offer, but Senator Amidala didn't seem to take no-thank-yous when it came to you.

"And come in gala-appropriate clothing. I will send you a dress, I just ask that you unwind from your duties for an evening. It's the least I can do after you've helped me for so long."

You tried to deny her offer, but when she slipped in the deal for a suit to be sent to you as well, perfectly fit for a certain tall Jedi, you let her offer break down the walls of your mind. You knew you shouldn't indulge in something like that, but it seems like you couldn't push her outstretched hand back. Especially when she cleared it with the council.

That's why you were here, in a dress that pressed snug to your skin, beautiful blue satin like the color of Anakin's lightsaber. And through his eyes, you were equally as hot as the blade. He had changed in the bedroom of your shared apartment, a crisp suit that reflected your dress.

Anakin knocked at the bathroom door respectively, waiting for your quiet "come in" before pushing the door open. You fixed the wide straps on your shoulders, moving them to where you thought they flattered your shoulders most before connecting eyes with your boyfriend. Though, it wasn't as much connecting as it was watching him internally outline your figure. Maybe it was the squeeze along your waist to the tops of your hips that made his gaze start to burn, or it was the way that the dress stopped accentuating your figure, flowing off the curve of your hips and pooling at the ground.

You watched his chest rise and fall, a stray hair slipping onto his forehead and tickling the scar over his eyebrow.

"Maker, how did I ever get so lucky," the jedi muttered, finally walking towards you with a plod to his steps, as if he was walking through swamp muck trying to get to you.

You smiled, cheeks heating with how his words nipped at your neck, the same as he wanted to so badly.

Anakin's hands fell to your waist, laying on a gentle touch that didn't seem like it came from him. Everything with Anakin was rough, he liked to admire through his fingertips, enjoying pulling and pushing. But in quiet moment, tender moment like these, he touched you with a softness that left you swooning for weeks.

You watched him through the reflection of your bodies, and he soon looked up to meet your stare. You smiled bashfully, his blue eyes melting you as he let his hands roam to your stomach, pulling you softly into him in Anakin fashion.

"I don't think I want to leave," Anakin spoke, moving your hair to kiss the skin behind your ear softly, "I think we should just stay here."

You teased, "Now why should we do that, Ani? You know, Senator Amidala has gone a long way convincing me to attend, it would be rude to bail so suddenly."

Anakin's forehead pressed to the side of your temple, lips close enough to your ears to head the tiniest of breaths from him.

"You look too good to leave. Just wanna bend you over and fuck the daylights out of you," he whispered, words sinking to the pit of your stomach and heating your core.

He bucked his hips into your ass, revealing the way his pants tented. You let out a choked whine, one of your hands grasping his wrist in an attempt to ground yourself. He had you wrapped around him finger and he knew it. But this wasn't an event that was easy to skip. Senator Amidala was looking forward to you being there. You and Anakin both.

"We can't Ani, I told her we would be there."

He sighed, thumb rubbing over the center of your stomach as if he was silently trying to coax you into changing your mind, being all soft with you.

You reached a hand up and raked fingers through his hair. He lifted his head from yours and glanced over the way he hovered above you, eyes shooting to his hands that touched you in such an intimate way, the way your lips were slightly parted as you focused your attention on him.

He was drowning in it.

"Alright, let's get out of here."

Anakin was being a gentleman tonight, opening the speeder door for you, resting his hand on your thigh as he drove. And he was patient this time, not reckless. Though his pinky was the opposite. It snuck into the slit on the left side of your dress.

He rested the tip of it as far up your inner thigh as he could, squeezing any moment that he thought was appropriate, sneaking looks at your face to catch the knitting of your eyebrows as you tried to ignore what he was doing to you.

The event already seemed too long and you hadn't even arrived. You thought this was gonna be easier with Anakin here, giving you someone you could genuinely talk to and trust with information. But it looked like Anakin was the worst person you could have every brought. You never realized how one dress could make him insatiable.

You adjusted your collar as you reached the large building, the inside of it decorated for the gala. You didn't know what the event was for, charity or just a general celebration of some sort, but Anakin walked in his usual arrogant way - strong steps, straight posture, broad shoulders. Maybe the image of him in a luxury attire made you a little hot as well, you were never used to seeing your boyfriend so put-together.

You stopped at small tables, checking out the forms that they held and listened to the kind person running them. It seemed to be a charity event, making you feel a little more comfortable with your surroundings.

There was soft music playing through speakers mounted on the ceilings and everyone wore smiles - some fake, but a lot being real, like they were happier than ever just to get word of their organization out into Coruscant.

Anakin must've relaxed, mirroring your mood as his back slouched the slightest bit and his steps became softer. His hand brushed your arm, knuckles trailing at the fabric that covered your hot skin. He wanted this to be a night where he could touch you freely, rest his hand on your lower back, kiss your hairline when he thought you looked too gorgeous not to touch.

But Anakin had his ways, ways to make you squirm, and ways to make you smile.

He snuck you around corners into empty halls of the building, pressing you tightly against him in a sloppy kiss, letting you feel the swell of him against his pants. And when the gala just started to get fogged over by his lips, you pushed at his chest in an attempt to keep you grounded. To keep you from getting caught with Anakin's crotch jutting against your hip.

"Ani, we can't," you whispered against his lips, the same ones that never seemed to get enough of your own, constantly hungry for the taste and the texture.

He huffed, nose pressing to your cheek as he rested against your face, "Yes we can, they won't even notice. C'mon angel.."

You pulled your face from his, making him only chase you. Pressing your hand to the base of your neck, your fingers pushes against the adam's apple in his throat till he finally pulled back enough to look at you.

For the first time in what felt like hours his hips weren't flush to yours and you could finally get a look at him, lips kissed a deep red and his hair tangled at the sides. His blazer was falling off one shoulder and eyes had a salacious look in them. Anakin had many times looked at you like this and begged with his body more than his words like this, but it just felt different now. He'd never tried this in public, certainly not with the clones around the corner or another Jedi within a good distance of you. Tonight felt risky, like he was throwing himself at the danger of being caught. You couldn't imagine what this would've been like if it were an important mission. Anakin had a brain to use, but right now, it was practically mush.

"We'll just get through this gala, alright. We can go talk to Senator Amidala and try to leave earlier than we planned to. We can't ditch this now though, she wants us here Ani."

Telling the tall Jedi no was like kicking a puppy, you adored him to the point where you almost broke at the look of him. His bottom lip pushed up at his top one, pouting at you, trying to change your mind. It hurt you to stand your ground to the man you loved. But it would hurt you more to break the Senator's promise.

Anakin leaned forward, trying to capture your lips again, but you held his shoulders.

"One more," he insisted, eyebrows shifting to a pouty expression. That, you couldn't say no to.

You let him kiss you, his lips moving eagerly with your own. But you stopped, breaking it before it got any more out of hand. You smiled with a softness, adjusting his appearance carefully, doing nothing about the way his red lips shined except pecking them to pull a smile to his face. There was absolutely no way you would be able to hide the way he looked at you and the swoon he held in his eyes, but you had hope nobody would catch it.

You expected the gala to be a lot more crowded than it was. Sure, there were people galore, but it was manageable for you and Anakin. Not many senators noticed you, out of your Jedi attire and prettied up for the event. You would never be able to disguise yourself enough to slip past Senator Amidala though - she could, and did, pick you out of a crowd.

"Jedi Knight L/n, it's great to see you," Amidala said, giving you a real smile before acknowledging Anakin with a "And Anakin."

You bowed your head, shaking her free hand that didn't hold a wine glass, "It's wonderful to see you finally, we're so glad we came."

By we, you meant you were. You were sure to assume Anakin wished to be... other places.

"I'm glad. There was actually something I have been meaning to speak to you both about," she started, swirling the small amount of liquid left in her wine glass around. Her eyes shifted down to it for a moment before coming back to yours, "I spoke to Master Yoda about it briefly, but I requested to speak to you both before I went through with it."

You nodded along, racking your brain for memories of missions that were to come for you. You surely were assigned to another, having been home in Coruscant for a week so far. When you let yourself take in the Senator, she looked almost nervous in a way, pinky finger tapping against the stem of the glass.

"Senator, excuse me for cutting you off, but would you like a refill? You look a bit shaken," you asked, giving her a look of understanding.

She nodded, "Please, this topic makes my stomach uneasy."

You smiled politely before taking her glass and weaving through he crowd with ease. You briefly wondered what would make someone like her nervous. But it made you nervous knowing the answer. It was no doubt that people wanted her blood spilled, and it seemed any time that her presence as a brave figure wavered was when there was a threat concerning her day to day life. One that told her that her actions were not the only things that people wanted stop. Her breathing was something that was desired to be halted as well.

You felt your shoulder catch on the shoulder of someone else in the vast crowd, making you stumble shortly. An arm reached out to your inner-elbow, catching you and keeping you on your feet.

Lifting your head to look at the kind soul to catch you, you connected eyes with a Kiffarian man, barely shorter than Anakin and decorated with gold tattoos. He wore a suit, short, curly hair sitting on top of his head and piercing grey eyes. He looked to be someone of importance, and you could tell why he would be. As his lips curled into a smile, you knew his exact job in politics. A gorgeous poster-boy.

"My apologies, I should have been paying attention to where I was walking," he said, only adding onto your assumption through his buttery accent.

You smiled, laughing softly, "It's alright, I was paying attention as much as you were."

He tilted his head down, hiding his teeth between a close-lipped smile. His hand stayed on you, letting off a bit of pressure through the apology, "I don't think we've ever met, can I have your name?"

"Y/n, what's yours?"

He huffed, "Yea'vett. You're not in a rush somewhere, are you?"

"I actually am," you referred to the empty wine glass you held in your grasp, shrugging off his hand. He let his arm fall to his side, the other coming up to adjust the collar of his suit.

His eyebrows almost seemed to downturn at your answer, his shoulders seeming to tense in a way that they weren't before, "Well, that's just disappointing, isn't it?"

You let your teeth peek out of your smile before he politely directed you to where the drink table was, holding his hand lightly on the fabric between your shoulder blades. After explaining that the glass was not your own and that you had to return to an important discussion, he left you to filling it up.

You quietly went about your careful business, almost groaning when a presence resumed itself back inside of your personal bubble. Turning your head, you were wholly expecting the gorgeous poster-boy to be watching you with the same stormy eyes he had been previously. But now, you were looking up into a different kind of storm.

The storm that you brought with you.

"Who was that?" Anakin asked, his voice stiff with agitation. His jaw was clenched when it closed, and his brow was creased. You swore in these moments his scar opened again, every time it was angry, it seemed to glare at you with the same red that Anakin's temper flared with. His whole stature was off, hands clenched into fists like it was a reflex to the situation. Somewhere in you had to admit that a piece of your heart went out to him when he was angry like this. More than of a piece of your body too.

You rolled your eyes at his tone, pressing a hand to his palm to try and soak some of the anger out of him, but with his eyes glued to yours, it seemed that your soft gesture did nothing to ease up his attitude.

"We bumped into each other and he ended up apologizing to me, that's all," you explained, letting your thumb rub over the cloth of his tie, pulling it through your finger till it reached the end and slipping from underneath your touch.

Anakin leaned closer into you as your knuckles rested against the center of his abdomen. "He was awfully close for an apology," Anakin spit out under his breath, lips pursed after his words were left free. His hand nearest to the table reached up to hold your waist, his thumb pressing into your skin hard as he pulled you closer to his body.

"He was just trying to be nice Anakin, leave it. We can discuss this after the gala," you dismissed the conversation, making Anakin's nose twice in response. You knew he didn't want to leave it, maker, Anakin didn't want to even be here. He was ready to go home and take you apart the way he'd been waiting to do since you left.

This only added fuel to the fire.

You could have been smarter, knowing Anakin's now shortened temper, but he knew you were right. You sometimes wondered how Obi-Wan wasn't scolded for the temper of his former padawan - a Jedi wasn't meant to feel such strong, negative emotions. Maybe you didn't have all the room to talk though, not when he had a strong hold on your heart.

You didn't wait for a response from Anakin, turning to continue back through the crowd. He followed you without word, but you could still feel the tension that didn't drift through the air, but instead connected the two of you like handcuffs.

The conversation with Senator Amidala couldn't have taken longer. She expressed her worries, and the worries of her people as well. Her life was being threatened by an anonymous source and it was endangering those around her at the same time. She was sick of putting her girls' lives in danger for her to simply travel through Coruscant. Maybe a Jedi presence would change things, temporarily stunt the threat and keep her safe. She mentioned the time Anakin and Obi-Wan had helped her through the previous threats - she felt safe in the hands of the now Jedi-Knight that stood beside you, uncharacteristically silent.

You gave her few words back, choosing them carefully and finalizing the conversation with exchanged smiles and an agreement that you and Anakin would keep her safe, though the council would have to approve of her request to have the two of you as her protectors. Times were tough, and availability was tight, you wished more than anything to have the Senator comfortable and safe under the eyes of you.

And Anakin wished nothing more than to get you out of your dress.

The whole conversation you could feel it, the burning gaze of his eyes and maker did you hope that the way he was staring at you was missed by the older woman. For the sake of you and the relationship you had grown with Ani, even if the Senator knew well before now.

And by the time it was finally over, Anakin pulled out a card I'd never seen him pull before. A petty lie, at that.

Anakin's right hand drifted to his back pocket, feeling for something and pretending it had all of his attention. And when he finally lifted his head from where it had tilted down, his hair brushed the sides of his cheeks and he cleared his throat, alerting the senator.

"I'm sorry about the short notice, but the council is ringing me. Can I excuse Y/n and myself?" he asked, giving Padme his best act you've ever seen, confident eyes staring straight into hers.

She nodded, holding up her glass and wishing the both of you well before Anakin took your hand and led you out into the hallway.

You weren't stupid; Anakin knew you weren't and knew that you had caught onto his lie. But, you wanted to play with it as he snuck you around a corner and up some stairs.

"Didn't the council excuse us for tonight?" you asked, reflecting his act.

He didn't answer your question immediately, instead waiting to see if there was anyone nearby. When he confirmed that you two were alone in the hallway, he dragged you into him hastily. His lips landed on yours, making you gasp out of shock. He had a hard grip on your arm as he kissed you, lips consuming your own.

The kiss wasn't long, it was just enough for him to get you back in that needy state he had you in earlier with your lips parted and your head faintly dizzy. Except this time, you had completed what you had came here for. Anakin pulled away, looking at you with eyes that bore their way under your skin and stayed there.

"I excused us for tonight," he said through teeth that were pushed together, "What was you friend's name again?"

You thought for a moment, evaluating your choice of words. You could be easy, give him what he wants, feed into his desire. Or you could challenge him. And you thought that Anakin deserved a challenge, even if it was a simple one that could be ignored by the naked eye.

"His name is Yea'vett. He was just trying to be nice," you argued.

Anakin smiled at you, teeth pale and incisors sharp, "You know I don't like people touching what's mine."

"Would you have rather had me fall?"

"I would have rather have not been here in the first place. I would rather have you split open on my cock right now than be here," his hand placed itself on the back of your neck, fingers wrapping around and heavily pressing to the sides of your throat, "I'm gonna fuck you so hard you'll forget his name."

Your breath went shallow at his words, losing strength in your legs as they felt like they were gonna wobble out from under you like an unsteady stool. His touch was poisonous, sending venom through your veins and making you feel weak.

Anakin smiled wider, soaking in the way that your eyes had softened and your gaze had turned into a desperate one. You eyelids were drifting down and your pupils were full, he knew that look anywhere, it was the same look you gave him when he was stuffed to the hilt in you.

"You wanna go home angel?" he asked, forehead pressed against yours.

You nodded, waiting for his move as he guided you back down the stairs and to the entrance that you had came in through. You didn't care about the way you trailed behind Anakin like a lost puppy dog, so close you almost stepped on his heels multiple times. Anticipation was heavier than the weight of certain stares right now, you'd take any questions tomorrow.

The street lighting that greeted you when you stepped back out into coruscant made your heart thrum. Your apartment was close, only a few minutes a way. A few long minutes that you knew Anakin was about to hate, with an impatient grip on the wheel. Leaving behind his gentleman way, he left you to your own devices of opening your door, which you did without thinking twice of it.

It would've been awkward if you hadn't loved each other long, the way you stared out the open roof to all the buildings and nightmarish traffic lanes. Anakin knew your distraction and found it amusing at times, knowing that underneath the face you held was someone who would be taking him like a whore in mere minutes.

Like you were trained for this exact procedure, you hopped out of the speeder the moment it parked itself. Anakin hadn't even pulled his hands off the wheel before you were running to the apartment entrance and sending him a glance over your shoulder to make sure he was still following.

Anakin smiled, running to catch up to you and trailed as you stepped through the glass doors, flashed the droid at the front desk a smile and hopped into the vacant elevator.

Pressing your floor number, it didn't take long for the doors to shut and Anakin's hunger to grow. He pulled you into him to press your hips to his. You could feel his hard crotch bear down on your pelvis, alerting you to how hard Anakin really was. Maybe you should've been grateful for the low time that Anakin allowed you two at the gala - you were lucky you were even there for over half an hour.

"Maker, I get so hard when I'm around you," Anakin groaned with his head crowding itself in the crook of your neck. His lips found their way to your skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses against it, leading pleasure through your body.

You held his waist, "I hope you understand that's not always a good thing."

Anakin ran the sharp of his teeth along the side of your neck before ending with a sloppy kiss at the base, sucking a red mark onto your skin. Your hips squirmed, making him only respond with a harsher suck.

Anakin pulled his head back the slightest to make eye contact with you, "You're telling me you don't love it when I take you home from these stupid public events and poun-"

The door opened and you practically jumped out of Anakin's arms. You needed to get home, speeding off down the hall as fast as you could in your cramped heels. Hallways were mostly vacant at these hours, those that weren't home wouldn't be home till late in the night and others were home and settling into bed - it made you feel somewhat bad for the running Anakin was doing with his unusually stomping feet.

You punched in the code for your apartment, entering before the door had fully opened. Anakin stepped in behind you and closed the door before snatching you by your waist. He held you with one arm, your back to his chest and the pounding of your heart bouncing off the walls. You giggled, hand holding onto him as he carried you off to your shared bedroom.

Anakin dropped you down on the soft sheets of your bed, your body falling onto your stomach with a bounce. A smile was spread over your lips at the moment, but when you turned to see Anakin, he looked anything but smiley. Maybe through his eyes, you could see the sparkle that told you he was helplessly in love with you, but his eyebrows were tensed ever so slightly and his mouth curved down, the cleft of his chin more visible.

Staring over you, eyes dragging over the inches of your dress with precision all the way to the heels on your feet. Anakin kneeled down at the edge of the bed, only one knee to the plush mattress, and he removed your heels with a gentle pull. It came off and he placed it on the floor, grabbing your legs and lifting it to press a kiss to your ankle.

You held your breath, the moment seemed so out of place for his behavior, almost as if it was made to distract you from why he dragged you out of the gala so promptly. You watched him kiss his way up your leg, stopping where the end of your skirt had folded up when you were dropped. Leaning away, he released your leg to only grab your other and address it the same way he had the first. Only this time, he didn't stop at the hem of your skirt.

Anakin moved up your body, lips ceasing their kisses but his eyes never stopped burning through the fabric of your dress. Like blaster bolts, you could feel them pierce into your skin with deadly precision. You never doubted that he had the mapping of your body memorized, not when looked at you like that while you were clothed.

His hands found their way to your back, spanning over the muscles and pressing you into the bed as he leaned his head down to your ear, "I want you all to myself."

"You have me all to yourself," you whispered back to him, leaning your head to the side, cheek pressing to the mattress.

Clever fingers found their way to the zipper of your dress and pulled it down. You could almost feel some weight drift off your shoulders as the cold air hit the skin along your spine, "I mean I don't want anyone else looking at you the way I'm allowed to. You're mine, and I want everyone to know that. You are mine."

The next moments were a head-dizzying contrast to when he was removing your heels. His hands pushed their way under the fabric of your dress and removed it, pulling it off of you in a hurry and allowing it to hang chaotically off the side of the bed in a mess of blue. Your bra was unclasped closely after without second thought and was tugged from your body, returning to it's place with your dress.

Anakin flipped your body over and watched the fat of your breasts bounce at the movement. He took a step back, standing at the foot of the bed before his hands reached to your hips and latched on. Tugging you to the edge, he pressed your clothed core against the crotch of his pants. A whine left your mouth at the sight in front of you. All of Anakin's clothes were still on, his blazer haphazardly thrown on the ground, which must've came off in a flurry of your undressing. He looked disheveled, lips red and raw, his button down crooked on his torso with half a side pulled out from where it was tucked into his pants. You'd never seen his hair so messy and you never thought a mess could be so beautiful.

"You feel that, angel?" Anakin ground his hard-on against your body, "You feel how fucking hard I am for you?"

You nodded, biting down on your lip in an effort to ground yourself to the world around you, something that the turbulent lighting of Coruscant couldn't accomplish. Anakin's grip on your hips tightened and he tugged your body against his, prominent hard-on pushing against his tight pants and pressing into you.

"Use your words, I wanna hear you say it."

You breathed shallowly, "I feel how hard you are. Ani..."

Anakin moved and hand up to caress your face with a sweet rub of his thumb, "What baby, what do you need?"

You grinded your hips against the swell of his cock through his pants, but Anakin was quick to put you in your place as he tightened his grip on your hips, pressing his own down, sandwiching you between him and the bed. His head hung above yours, his mess of hair tickling your forehead in a silly manner.

It all felt unfair, the way he tried to contain your reach for your own pleasure, and you wished you could hate him for it. But in this moment, you depended on him to soften up and deliver you the pleasure your body begged for.

"I need you, Ani. I wanna feel good, only you can make me feel good."

Anakin bumped his forehead gently against yours, "You know that's not what I'm looking for, angel."

You could feeling his breath lingering with your own, creating the same feeling throughout your body that you felt when you would make out with him. The thought alone had you on a high and made you lunge up, attempting to connect your lips with his. But, as quick as the thought crossed you mind, it was shut down by Anakin's hand leaving your waist and wrapping around the base of your throat, pushing you lightly back to the bed. You whined, knowing that you were running out of ways to escape his hold.

The whine from you made Anakin laugh, "Eager girl."

The comment made your cheeks flush and made you more aware of the hand that pressed to your neck like a shackle. You let out a shaky breath, "Please fuck me, I need you to touch me, kiss me, fuck me, anything, please!"

The way you begged made Anakin's cock twitch in his pants, pulling a groan from his lips and setting it free into the air. He took his hand away from your throat, moving it to his waistband and unbuttoned his pants with one, skillful hand. Excitement spiked through you, sending you to pull yourself up to reach your hand under the fabric of his button-down that was tucked into his pants. Your fingers wrapped around the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down along with his pants till they rested on the crest of his thighs.

Anakin let you, watching closely while biting his lip at your once-over of his dick. You took ahold of it, pumping it and watching a bead of precum drool from the head. Straining your body forward, you gathered spit between your lips before letting it travel through the tight purse of them and fall to the blushing tip of his cock, sliding down and into your curled hand as you continued to jerk him off.

"Fuck, baby," Anakin moaned with a hand coming to hold your wrist, "I wanna give you what you were begging for."

Though disappointment flashed over your face in the form of a pout, you flopped your body back on the bed in content. You watched as your fully-clothed lover took himself into his own hands, letting out a quiet sigh from his chest and guiding himself to push aside the fabric of your panties.

"Are you gonna keep all your clothes on, big boy?" You teased with a smile. The head of his cock ran through the soaking slit of your pussy, collecting it's lubrication.

He looked up from where he was gazing at your sex, connecting your eyes with his. The look he gave you was almost a warning, telling you that you should really keep your mouth shut, little quips not being one of the things he wanted to hear out of you. "I need to have you, I'm not wasting time."

You spoke before you could bite your tongue, "You were fine with wasting your time earlier."

You allowed a smirk to creep onto your face, but it was soon swept off in the tidal wave of euphoria. The blunt head of Anakin's length pushed itself into you, creating a stretch like no other, one that sent your jaw dropping and your eyebrows creeping together. You and Anakin surely didn't abstain, but he always gave you the same stretch every time he slipped into you. It left your core tightening and your body feeling heavy.

The way Anakin held you, his other hand returning to it's rightful place on your hip, sent your head careening backward into the soft bed. The pressure of his fingers made you feel small in a way, man-handling you like he would picking up a doll. You tried to see the way he pushed into you, but you settled for looking up at his smug expression that told you he was splitting you in half. Whatever power he held over you, it melted your brain in the most humiliating way - Anakin seemed to adore it.

"Yeah? You like that cock, huh brat? Shuts you right up, doesn't it?" he said, spitting acid into your veins, melting your muscles and refusing them to be in your own control.

You tasted blood as your teeth finally pricked your lip - Anakin slid into you, slow and delicious, just like the breaths that he took which fanned on your face sweetly. His hair hung like messy vines above you and his eyes were barely visible; blue peaking through the waves. But his smile, the one he barely could keep as you sucked him in, shone like a star over the ocean at night. The grip his fingers had on your body contoured his hand and sent shivers up your spine and into your neck where the after-shock made you choke out a silky moan.

Anakin leaned forward, pressing his nose into yours as he consumed the breaths you took, "You look so beautiful when my dick's in you. Almost like you belong like this, right here soaking me." A deep laugh accompanied his words, kissing your lips deeply.

Welcoming his mouth against yours, you made out with a deep passion that you've never felt from anyone but Anakin. And you thought for a moment, that maybe that's why you were wholly his and he yours, the way you two connected like lost puzzle pieces was like none other.

You gasped into his mouth, walls stuttering around him. The way you tightened dragged a moan from him. You could feel every vein of his cock press into you as he let you take him slowly. He knew you could though, he's bent you in half like a folding chair before and made you take him. But like this, when things were so slow you felt the world had gone cold, you could feel the pop of the head into you, could feel the curve of his dick. If you concentrated hard enough, you could swear you felt yourself gushing around him.

You let your hands reach up to hold his face sweetly, thumbs settling on his cheekbones as your lips wrapped around his bottom one before restarting their tasting of his mouth. You felt heat rush to your core when Anakin bottomed inside of you, hitting something deep. He pulled away from the sloppy kiss, planting a peck to yours before recoiled his hips, pushing back against yours torturously.

A whine left you, sounding oddly familiar to his name. You played this same game time and time again where, in his possessive attitudes, he'd try to coax his name out of your lips. And you knew he was pushing for it harder tonight.

Anakin set a steady pace, his hips beating against yours with slow, deep thrusts that sent your eyes rolling back and your body shivering. Your hands moved to the back of his neck, holding his head close to yours and grounding you from the way his cock fucked into your spongy cunt, looking for the spot that made you tear up.

His one thumb teased over your hip bone, the only gentle thing about the way you were positioned. The lewd noises of slapping skin and your soaking cunt bounced off the walls, making your ears hot. Your body reacted to him like a faucet that you couldn't turn off. But fuck, you wouldn't anyways, not when he was shoving himself balls deep inside of you, trying like hell to hit something deep.

"He could never know your body like I do, nobody could," Anakin growled, "That's cause you're mine. Nobody could know the way that you love being fucked like a whore, nobody could know the way you shut up as soon as you get my fat cock in you. You take it so good, don't you angel? You take it so fucking good."

You moaned at his words, loud and unrestrained from where you were before. You settled on training your eyes on his as he pummeled you with his strong hips, sturdy thighs smacking against your ass. You would most definitely be sore in the morning, and you could count on bruises blooming at your hip-bones.

"So good Ani... only you, fuck- only you!"

Anakin planted another sweet kiss to your lips, smiling, "That's right, only me. I get to fuck you, and pump you full, and hold you every night because you're mine. Nobody deserves you, maker- I don't deserve you. But I'd be damned if I didn't fuck you like I do."

Anakin's hips sped, the thrusts barely changing the way they shook your body and melted your brain. You couldn't ignore the way your stomach tightened and the fuzziness in your head distorted the way moans flew off your tongue.

"Anakin... fuck- Ani, I'm close," you whined, nose pushing against his.

Anakin pulled away from your face momentarily, a hand falling lower to guide his thumb to your clit. Your body tensed, waves off pleasure shooting through you. A little more.

Anakin gave up any softness, hips fucking you into the mattress, pushing calls of his name out of your mouth, "Yeah? Come on baby, cum for me, wanna feel you cum on my cock."

You felt him strike a spot inside of you that moved you to grip his hair, tugging his head back. Your fingers pulling at the strands only parting his lips and spurring on his rough movements. His pelvis occasionally pushing his thumb hard into your clit, sending sparks through you that electrified your nerves.

"Maker... Ani, holy fuck- Ani-" your words almost felt pushed out of your chest. It was as if he was trying to hammer a nail into the wall, and he was denting the wall. Your knees locked around his waist and your legs wrapped around him, heels digging into his back as the band inside of you snapped. A hot white flashed across your body, making your limbs lock and stutter, eyes closed and mouth open.

"Your pussy gets so wet when you cum- fucking squeezing me," he grunted, his pace turning sloppy and losing it's previous rhythm.

Anakin threw his head into your neck, resting his face into the crook as he let out a strangled moan, hips bucking to bottom out inside of you. Hot ropes of cum coated your walls, spreading a familiar warmth through your body. Your lover's cool panting contrasted the warmth, sending a shiver up your spine.

He came down, falling limp against you. A smile formed on his face, one that pressed into the skin of your neck. Relaxing muscles made him lay on you with his hands releasing their pressure and his legs shifting slighting. You wrapped your arms around his torso to hold him to you, a smile flashing across your face as well.

You squeezed around him, making him moan and curse into your shoulder, "Don't."

You giggled, only earning a huff from him. Your hands traveled to his dress shirt, moving the fabric up and trying to get it off. Anakin moved without a word, lifting his arms and letting you remove it from his sweaty body. It would have to be washed, but you didn't really mind.

"Here, let me-" Anakin pulled himself out of your slowly, pulling a softer noise from your throat. A warmth crackled through his body, watching his spend drip out of you like syrup. Your cheeks flushed finally, feeling shy even though you had imprinted kisses on your shoulder to prove you weren't as innocent as you felt in that moment.

Clothes were tossed in the same pile as your dress, creating a messy pile of elegant clothes, ones that belonged in displays, not on hard-wood floors. With you scooting up the bed, Anakin had disappeared into the bathroom and coming back with a damp cloth.

Climbing over you, he placed a heavy hand on your pelvis and cleaned you gently, though overstimulated sighs didn't fail to leave your lips. He bothered to set that in the laundry bin next to your closet, finding himself back to the bed quickly.

Anakin laid down beside you, bouncing as he let his back fall. His arms scooped you up and held you against him. A hand came to hold your back while the one not tucked under you was tracing circles into his hard chest.

"You know that I love you, right? I don't want anyone else," you finally spoke, looking up at his face through the dim lighting of the room none of you bothered to do anything about.

A wide grin spread on his face, "I know, I just like teasing you."

•--•

#star wars x reader #star wars smut #star wars x reader smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader smut

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kcrossvine-art · 4 months

Text

Hi friends! Just a day after this years Yule and a few days out from Christmas, regardless of what you celebrate during this winter months, we're gonna be cooking a tangy tango between two traditional english staples-

Yule Plum Pudding and Wassail from Lord of the Rings Online!

(You can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to this Yule Plum Pudding?” YOU MAY ASKPlum Pudding is not a "pudding" as us americans think of it; its closer to a fruitcake but less shit.

Cranberries

White raisins

Macerated prunes (in brandy)

Chopped candied peel

Blanched almonds

All-purpose flour

Cinnamon

Nutmeg

Cloves

Sugar

Breadcrumbs

Lemon zest

Unsalted butter

Eggs

Whole milk

Half a bottle of brandy

It also doesnt contain any capital-P plums! it actually does contain plums im so fucking stupid i never connected the dots that prunes were dried plums oh my god. But they still ued any dried fruit, and "Plum" here is just referring to any dried fruit. And what about the birth of todays wassail?

4 cooking apples

2 pears

Brown sugar

Cinnamon sticks

2 lemons

A bottle of sherry

The other half bottle of brandy

Wassail is very similar to apple cider drank in the fall, with a few differences like the addition of pears and different alcohol source. It was commonly drank while "wassailing" which was a Yuletide predecessor to christmas carolling. People would go door-to-door with a big bowl of wassail, play music, and give well wishes- offering drinks from the wassail in return for small gifts!

AND, “what does Yule Plum Pudding and Wassail taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASK

The puddings like a fruitcake but if a fruit cake tasted good and wasnt a brick

Its thick and rich, and somehow actually tastes like plum despite that not being intended or making sense

I love the macerated prunes so much. Juicy berries to forage for. Enrichment

The icings reminiscent of buttercream but more savory than sweet

The wassail is like drinking the golden edges off the clouds at sunset

Its got a little bit of the dryness from the sherry that makes your mouth water the moment you stop drinking it

You just want to keep drinking more to sate yourself

Even without eggs its surprisingly full bodied and thick

I had to make a few substitutions from traditional elements due to either being not available or too expensive, but with a little problem-solving nothing was too hard to do.

. Used a bundt cake pan instead of a pudding tin . Suet (animal fat) was historically used for plum pudding. I couldnt find any and used butter instead . Used golden delicious apples when called for . Used concorde pears when called for . Some wassail recipes fold in egg whites before serving, to make the drink creamier. I didnt do this, but if you do, the recommendation to drink it fresh still stands (and strongly)

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I gotta admit, I was nervous approaching this recipe. Not only because I didn't own and couldnt find a "pudding tin" without ordering online, or because the concept of steaming a pastry(?) feels foreign and odd, but also because of how old and storied this dish is. You always run into the issue with historical foods who date back to the times where oral history was the only history. The issue of people being combative that their recipe is the only true variant of the recipe, and all the others are mucking the whole thing up.

Its good to remember that like with most dishes, cooking is something that evolved and continues to evolve overtime. Unless someones trying to rewrite history and claim that ants on a log is a creme brule in which case you should run them over with a '98 Pontiac Sunfire.

Theres a few things I'd do differently when cooking again, like chopping the blanched almonds. They were a bit too big when left whole. And adding some amount of heavy cream to the icing? Maybe? To give it a fluffier/milkier feel? But the proces of cooking itself was very straightforward and I have no real complaints or modifications to make. When having leftovers of the pudding it did seem to "mature" and taste better and better the more days i kept it in the fridge, so thats something to keep in mind! But it tastes great a day after all the same.

I give this recipe a solid 10/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) Happy winter everyone! Congrats to another year of staying alive!

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Yule Plum Pudding Ingredients:

16oz cranberries

12oz white raisins

9oz macerated prunes

4oz chopped candied peel (any fruit)

2oz blanched, chopped almonds

4oz all-purpose flour

Measure spices with your heart (cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves)

8oz granulated sugar

8oz fresh white breadcrumbs

lemon zest (one lemon)

4oz grated unsalted butter

4 eggs

8oz whole milk

Pudding Icing Ingredients:

1½oz unsalted butter

1½oz all-purpose flour

10½oz whole milk

3oz granulated sugar

2 tablespoons brandy

Yule Plum Pudding Method:

A week before making, macerate your prunes in brandy.

Mix together all the dried fruit, peel, and almonds. Sieve flour and spices together then add to the fruit mixture along with the sugar, breadcrumbs, rind, and grated butter.

Beat eggs and then blend with 8oz of milk.

Stir the egg/milk mixture to incorporate into the dry ingredients. Add prunes, and stir some more.

Put batter into a well-buttered pudding basin, with parchment paper to cover.

Get a large pot and place a kitchen towel or something similar at the bottom- then place the pudding basin on top of the towel, inside the large pot.

Fill the outer pot with water until it’s halfway up the side, cover the pot with a lid (or foil).

Steam on the stovetop at 210f for 4-6 hours depending on size of pudding basin. If the water gets too low, add a bit more.

After steaming, uncover and allow to cool to room temperature. Do not remove it from the pudding basin! Cover with fresh parchment paper and foil and store in a cool, dry place for at least a day.

(optional) to reheat; steam for 40-80 minutes, until warmed through.

Pudding Icing Method:

Place butter in a medium saucepan with the flour, pour in the milk then whisk everything vigorously together over a medium heat.

As soon as it comes to simmering point and has thickened, turn the heat to its lowest setting, stir in the sugar, and let the sauce cook for 10 minutes.

Add the brandy and stir to mix. Keep warm until required.

Wassail Ingredients:

4 cooking apples

2 pears

Brown sugar

4 Cinammon sticks

2 lemon

1 bottle of Sherry

½ bottle of Brandy

Wassail Method:

Core the apples and pears, leave the rest intact, and set in a baking pan. Fill the hollow centers with brown sugar.

Add about an inch of water to the pan and bake at 350f for 30 minutes, or until the fruit is soft.

Move the fruit to a large pot, add a bottle of sherry, half a bottle of brandy, lemon peel, and 4 large cinnamon sticks. (Feel free to use less booze!)

Bring the pot to a simmer for about 45 minutes, stirring occasionally. Strain before serving!

#cross cooks lotr #dessert #baking recipes #the lord of the rings #digital art

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octopiys · 9 months

Text

Some incorrect quotes and scenes for the pies

Roach: *Screams*

Ghost: *Screams louder to establish dominance*

Capt. MacTavish: Should we do something?

Capt. Price: No, I want to see who wins.

Alejandro: You lying, cheating, piece of shit!

Valeria: Oh yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD

Alejandro: I’m leaving you, and I’M TAKING RODOLFO WITH ME

Rodolfo, picking up the monopoly board: I think we’re gonna stop playing now.

Price: You know, not every problem can be solved with a knife.

Ghost: That's why I carry two knives.

Soap: I made tea.

Ghost: I don’t want tea.

Soap: ....I did not make tea for you. This is my tea.

Ghost: Then why are you telling me?

Soap: It is a conversation starter.

Ghost: That’s a lousy conversation starter.

Soap: Oh, is it? We are conversing. Checkmate.

Gaz: Is letting someone win at chess sapiosexual bottoming

Price, putting his head in his hands: Does anyone in this goddamn team ever think before they speak-

Graves: Must be hard not being able to laugh

Alejandro: I do have a sense of humor you know

Graves: I’ve never heard you laugh before

Alejandro: I’ve never heard you say anything funny

Graves:

Graves: fuck you

Alejandro: fuck you

Soap, motioning to a Halloween display: All these ghosts! All these ghosts! I still can’t find a boo.

Ghost:

Ghost: is it because I said I didn't want your tea-

Soap: YES ITS BECAUSE YOU SAID YOU DIDNT WANT MY TEA

Ghost: Schrödinger’s cat is overrated. If you wanna see something that’s both dead and alive you can talk to me any time of the day.

Gaz, just finding out that Ghost is legally dead:

Gaz: Why isn’t the statue smirking at me?

Price: It isn’t smirking at anyone, they’re all just imagining it.

Soap: Three of us saw it, Cap. How do you explain that?

Price: *points at Soap* Sleep deprivation. *points at König* Paranoia. *points at Ghost* Delusional personality disorder.

Gaz:

Gaz: damn.

Roze: What’s something you guys are better than Horangi at?

Hutch: Mario Kart.

O'Conor: Yeah, video games.

König: Emotional vulnerability

Graves: *Gets down on one knee*

Alejandro: Oh my god, it’s finally happening.

Graves: *Falls over*

Alejandro: The poison is kicking in.

Gaz, after falling out of a heli for the third time: Do you take constructive criticism?

Nikolai: I only take cash or credit.

Soap: Can you keep a secret?

Ghost: Do you know anything about my life?

Soap: No I do not. Good point.

Gaz: Hey heads up if you try to make a candle with food coloring, the food coloring will just sink to the bottom of the glass, and when the flame eventually reaches the bottom all the food coloring will catch fire and become one giant tall flame that you cannot possibly blow out and the glass will start to crack and then you'll throw your tea on it in a panic and then the extremely hot food coloring will boil and sizzle horribly and then the glass will shatter. Please take my word on this haha-

Roach: What did you-?

Gaz: A MISTAKE WAS MADE

I just wanna say thank you all sm for 300 followers! You all r loved and I'm not good with responses but I appreciate them all so muck, thank u again :DDDDD

#call of duty #cod mw2 #modern warfare 2 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #incorrect quotes #captain john price #alejandro vargas #alerudy #rodolfo parra #kyle gaz garrick #gary roach sanderson #könig modern warfare #horangi #nikolai cod #phillip graves #valeria garza

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eilidh-eternal · 4 months

Note

Ok so like, ngl? Nasty Man™️Johnny when he's jealous got the brain worms goin. Like the worms are WORMIN. Specifically for the Ghost bit.

Ok, so what if, hear me out what if like Ghost gets off to it and sends a video of him getting off to it to reader, right? And it just...spirals into a weird thing of Soap trying to prove something to you like constantly. Like, it's a constant cycle right?

Gaz and Price are just standing there like 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️ and having a conversation of their own about the thing and Gaz just drops the "Soap and Ghost really should just fuck each other at this point." bomb.

but it's nothing like that. at least to reader, but then Gaz explains his view point and reader is just like "huh maybe a quick fuck would help."

and then Gaz & reader plot to get Ghost and Soap to just get the tension between them done and over with and it happens, but the videos? They continue to get sent back n forth bc hey, Ghost has a nice dick and its kinda hot to record videos. 🤣

I put too much thought into this at 6:45 AM. Blame the worms.

From here on out, may I be 🪱 anon?

- 🪱

Hi 🪱!

YOU’RE LIKE IN MY HEAD?!?!?!? This is exactly the dynamic I saw for all of them when I was thinking about that Nasty, Jealous Man.

Nasty Pup Johnny ft. Handler Ghost????

As overly territorial as Nasty Man™️ Johnny MacTavish is about you, Ghost is like that with him—in a way. Johnny is just too in love clinically obsessed with you to notice how Ghost pays attention to him.

Ghost 1000% did not balk at the first video. Definitely got off to it. He maybe also probably without a doubt got off to Johnny stroking himself in the barracks while he watched you on the cameras 🫣 And when the videos keep coming? Oh, this is going to be a fun little game for him, his Sergeant and the pretty little thing keeping him in line at home for him.

The next time you’re on base is to pick up Johnny, fresh off the tarmac from whatever undisclosed location they were mucking about in this time, and you notice when they deplane how Ghost sort of… herds him. Stands at his back and trails him down the ramp. Pushes him in your direction because Ghost immediately has you in his sights while Johnny is busy fussing with a strap on his pack.

“Fuck’s sake Johnny… stop fuckin’ with the bag and get your girl.” He shoves him forward, big gloved hand on his lower back making him stumble. He doesn’t have much time to ponder it, and all the other touching Ghost had suddenly taken to with him, because you’re already on him, arms wrapped around him in a vice and your face buried in his chest, and all he wants is to be wrapped your warmth.

Johnny doesn’t see the way Ghost lingers at the edge of the hangar, watching you look him over and fuss over the cut on his brow, the stitches. Is too blinded by his infatuation with you to see the hunger in his eyes as you lead him away to the car.

Their next op is a tedious thing. They can’t brute force their way into the target compound the way they usually would, armed to the teeth and scaling walls and buildings under the cover of darkness. No, because this is a bunker, and blasting through the only door, their only exit, isn’t an option.

It takes days for Laswell's Cyber Operations Officers to comb through each and every checkpoint in their systems, to comb through the code and brute force the data needed to create a key card that they can use to bypass the locks. And all that waiting makes Johnny antsy. Restless. A grenade with a pulled pin waiting for the strike lever to fall.

He's done his best to occupy himself. Spent hours in the gym, running until his legs shake and lifting until he's red in the face. Methodically oils and cleans every rifle, every pistol he can get his hands on. Checks and rechecks his calculations for the cocktail of explosives they'll need for this op.

And still, he paces. Bounces his leg at meals and meetings. Taps his fingers erratically on the table tops.

Ghost knows that at home when he feels like this, he goes to you. Focuses all that pent up energy on you to keep himself level-headed and in check. But you're not here, and Ghost can't have his Sergeant dancing around tripwires on this op. He's going to have to redirect that energy himself.

Later that evening, sitting on the couch, sipping wine and watching a movie, one of Johnny's favorites, you get a text from an unknown number.

Had to teach the pup a lesson. Needs more patience. 📎 IMG_449.MOV

You hesitate.

Johnny never told you much about what he does, but he told you enough to prepare you for the possibilities of things like this. Messages from strangers. Videos and pictures of him. That no matter what you see, what they tell you, you shouldn't believe them. Don't give them what they want.

But this... this doesn't feel quite like the things he told you about. So you open it.

It's a video of Johnny on his knees, hands tied--belted--behind his back, eyes watery when they look up into the camera, and his mouth stuffed with a thick cock. There's a gloved hand in his hair, fisting loose strands of mohawk and holding him in place while the length of their cock pushes down his throat, familiar skeletal pattern printed on the back.

"Good pup, just gotta sit nice and still for me," Ghost's roughened voice purrs through the speakers, and Johnny moans, low and sweet for him.

And God if that isn't the prettiest you've ever seen him, taking a cock down his throat and blinking tear filled eyes up at his superior, panting and choking, drool dribbling down his chin. His eyes go a bit wide when Ghost fucks his throat in earnest, and it sends warmth flooding straight to your core, wetness gathering embarrassingly fast in your panties.

Ghost's moan is a broken sounding thing when he comes, hips stuttering and yanking Johnny down to the base of him, grunting praises as he swallows around him. When he finally loosens his grip on Johnny's hair and pulls away from him, his lips make a little 'pop' sound, cum and drool a mess on his face. The camera moves closer and Ghost tilts his chin up between surprisingly gentle fingers.

"You'll get yours when we're back. Copy?"

Johnny nods, and when Ghosts grip tightens on his jaw he says, "Copy, sir." And that's where it ends.

You save Ghosts number in your phone and drain your glass of wine.

Think he'll still be well behaved when you're home?

Doubt it.

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wordsinhaled · 8 months

Text

the thing about crowley’s confession is… he must have thought about it in the bit of time he had before doing it. i mean... he went and sat outside marguerite’s with his wine, and thought. he thought very hard about how there was a threat—a sleeper—a ticking time bomb in aziraphale’s bookshop that could explode at any moment, take away all their hard-won peace, their safety, their comfort.

but most importantly, a threat to aziraphale. gabriel had tried once to destroy aziraphale already, and only hadn’t because they'd swapped bodies. and crowley's clearly terrified that this time, what they're doing feels reckless, feels like playing with something far too important at stake. it's like... already knowing someone is so important to you—and then having the possibility that it could really be something dangled in front of you—and then knowing there's an existential threat to that potential? awful. horrifying. no wonder he can't find the words.

we know crowley is a romantic. we know how much joy it brings him to see other people fall in love. and... honestly... i'm not sure it’s that nina needed to spell the nature of his feelings out for him, exactly. crowley's known where he stands towards aziraphale for a long time if we're to judge him by his acts (which are always acts of service, care, and attention, which always speak louder than his words). so i don't think it was that, as much as just—the experience of being perceived by someone else, sort of jostling something for him.

because crowley's watched the romance films, hasn't he, he knows the exact tropes he's working with, but the idea that they could apply to him—to him and aziraphale? i don't think he considered that until it was offered to him as an option. and once it was, there was crowley's mind far exceeding the speed limit trying to wrap itself around all of this.

and so he must have looked at it, and all signs, all signs, were pointing to aziraphale being receptive.

crowley probably thought about all the times aziraphale had touched him in the last day alone. all the little glances and looks aziraphale had been giving him, which crowley surely hadn’t missed because he’s always staring right back. he probably thought about how aziraphale thinks the bentley is their car and the bookshop is their shop, about how aziraphale told him that he thought they’d carved a peaceful existence out for themselves. and after the ball, he probably thought about how aziraphale asked him to dance, at this event that was meant to get other people to fall in love, but aziraphale had wanted to dance with him.

so crowley most likely looked at all of this and thought he’s finally ready. he’s finally caught up. when i ask this time, he’s going to say yes. and he watched aziraphale so warily, too, after the realization, because there's a way that it feels, to be holding on to a truth so direly important and so terribly exciting and so very requited, as far as crowley can tell. it's like, am i holding myself differently now? can he tell? has he always been able to tell? am i about to muck it up? i'm about to muck it up. i muck everything up, but not this. not this. he's the center of my universe so it's worth it. and it's alright, even if i muck it up, because he's going to say yes. dear god: i'd only ask if it was important.

and so he queued up their song in the bentley and he talked to muriel like they’re a them, like they’re going to be a couple, a couple who needs us time. he gave himself the luxury of imagining it, of planning it all out in his mind—how everyone was going to finally leave off pulling them toward some greater purpose and just let the two of them be together, and aziraphale was going to at last let crowley be to him what he’s always wanted to be—what he’s been being already, evidently, to the point where strangers on the street ask how long they’ve been together.

and then in the end, to be rejected like that. to be rejected even while the love is pouring off aziraphale in anguished waves—and if he loves me too, then why won't he say yes? to be rejected and to know this isn't how it's supposed to go, even though it's the way it's always gone. crowley always asks and aziraphale always says no. somehow, this time was supposed to be different. he'd dared to hope properly. and how had he misjudged it so terribly this time? how much of it had been wishful thinking? and he had to have felt aziraphale's hands grasping at his shoulders, had to have felt the start of a kiss returned, and thought that maybe there was a spark of hope yet.

but there wasn't.

because nothing lasts forever. apparently.

#aughhhhhh #good omens #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #aziracrow

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pseudowho · 3 months

Text

Infiltration, Chapter Eight: Unchained

Nanami Kento and the reader must pretend to be married to infiltrate a deadly Curse-user cult and take it down from the inside.

*SMUT/NSFW/18+*

THE FINAL CHAPTER!!

A slow-burn fic with fluff/comfort, angst, smut and heroics from our favourite salaryman.

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Kento broke into a jagged run, as an almighty roar burst from the writhing mass above him, the many faces within it screaming in shrill tandem. Kento stumbled, slipping in the rot, cutting his palms open on shards of bone and gristle on his way to you, still hanging, chained, against the wall.

Kento's hands clamped instantly to your face, crying out in disgust and panic as he smeared it with blood and rancid muck. His hands roamed you desperately, from chains, to face, to sliced belly, to waist, to chains, uttering frantic breaking moans-- "no no no, darling please, wake up, I can't do this, I can't do this, please, please". Your pale, lax face shot through him like shards of ice and he sobbed, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your mouth, trying to push life from his own body to yours.

His shredded palms settled on your chains, and Kento roared in frustration as he felt his Cursed-energy output dwindle to nothing the moment he touched them. Kento spun, dropping to his knees and scouring the floor for anything he could use. His hands were scattered, stinging, and landed on a discarded, gouged long-bone; a femur, mostly intact. The biblical darkness crept closer above him, hungry, eager, tentacles and limbs slapping down the walls of this vast deep well towards you.

Brandishing the femur as a weapon, imbuing it with every shred of power he had, Kento stepped into the hit and slashed the wall above your chains in a devastating blow. A spray of damp brick and rubble had the wall buckling, and as the chain's tethers were released, your body slumped downwards. Kento caught you, shielding you from the falling debris, cradling you in his arms as he, you and the chains slapped to the slick icy floor.

Clutching your body to his, Kento begged you to live, begged the empty chamber around him for help-- "I can't-- I can't help you-- don't go yet please don't go yet, we can make it, you can make it...fuck, please!" His trembling hand crept to your belly, glugging blood in lazy, weakening pulses, and Kento's eyes drifted closed.

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"I can get her to Shoko, Nanami-san. It won't be a problem...I know you hate working late. I'm sorry."

"This isn't work. This is...something more. I needed to be here. She needed--" Kento's voice cut off as Ijichi continued to bow his head in apology before him. Kento felt the first heavy splatters of warm summer rain, the sky pregnant with humid downpour. Kento looked to you-- bloody, eyes fixed in mute horror, wrapped in his suit jacket in the passenger seat of his car.

Kento tipped his face back towards the sky, eyes closed, Ijichi unable to see how his face twisted in helpless agony, rage, disgust. He felt the heavy spatters of raindrops on his cheeks, his glasses. He did not know for how long he stood, still. His beige suit had turned tan, his navy shirt sodden, stuck to him, black and warm in this tropical storm.

He wished to be wiped clean. He wished you could sleep and forget. He wished to be baptised and ordained in the arms of someone more powerful than him. He wished, he wished, he wished.

Kento blew it all away, smooth and restrained as he felt trickles run down him, from his shoulders to his belly. He looked back down to Ijichi, his glasses removed and pocketed now, his gaze passive, authoritative.

"She's uninjured. No need to make any more work for Shoko. I'll get her home and...and safe." Ijichi's face contorted in apology again-- not vague apology; sincere apology, grief for the unlived life he had to administrate.

Ducking under the un-trickling veil once more, Kento reached his car, hesitating for just a moment on the door handle before stepping in, sodden against his leather seats. With barely a sideways glance to you, he reached over, the backs of his fingers ghosting over your bare arm. With a grunt, Kento rumbled the engine to life, setting the heaters to maximum.

Kento twisted in his seat, unbelted, and gently grasped your hands. As if dead, in rigor mortis, your limbs refused movement, tight against yourself as Kento tried to urge your hands towards the air vents. He huffed lightly as you trembled, trying to draw your hands back.

"I can't bring her back," Kento strained, his voice tight with regret, "but I can keep you warm. Please. Darling."

Your arms relaxed, melting under Kento's warmth and urgency, and you allowed him to press your hands to the leather-sweet whoosh of warm air. You trembled, nauseous and numb. You stayed this way as Kento reached around you, threading the belt and buckling you in before fixing his own. The car rolled to a start. You had little to no memory of the journey home.

Kento had carried you to your door, seeming so small in his arms, in his suit jacket. Placing you down with utmost delicacy, Kento gripped your upper arms as if afraid you'd fall, before cautiously letting go. He eyed your lock, and surveyed you; no keys, he surmised. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out an army knife, multi-functional, well-used, Scandinavian branded. Within seconds, the lock of your door was jimmied open and you were ushered inside.

You had vague memories of being lovingly cleaned with a bowl of warm water, a gentle soft cloth meticulously cleaning blood from your fingernails. Of being verbally dressed, Kento's voice smooth and encouraging outside your bedroom door as your shaking hands pulled pyjamas on. Of being fed, hot soup brought in steady mouthfuls to your lips. Of being tucked into bed, hair stroked out of your free-flowing tears. Of his steadfast presence in the armchair beside your bed as you drifted into an uneasy sleep.

You awoke, your home empty, the apologies for which seemingly drifting like dust-motes in the air around you. Kento had cooked, cleaned, left fresh clothes out for you.

In your shame, and your grief, you saw yourself as a burden. Kento gave you space, always wondering if it was too much or too little.

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There was a pause between heartbeats as panic ebbed away. Kento felt a wave of warmth sweep through him, ushering him, as soft as a wave, to a state above his own body, outside himself, as weightless as a breath. The wave swept back out to sea, taking Kento's warmth with it; he gave it, its strength amplified through his willingness, trickling out through fingertips.

With a gasp and a thump, Kento's heart started again, and you twisted, coughing in his arms, gripping his biceps with cold fingers. Kento choked, gasping and coughing, and you climbed up his lap, your eyes feverish with pain and confusion. Kento swayed, drained.

"You're back-- you're...you're back," he stuttered in disbelief, shaky hands lifting your top and stroking reverently across your intact belly, before rising up to cup your face, his eyes brimming with relief, adoration, joy. You shook, wet cold seeping into your bones, still feeling the handle of death's door in your grasp.

"Kento...what did-- what did you--" Your voice trailed off, disbelieving as you knelt, wet-steel-chafing chains clanking on your wrists. With matching soft smiles, you leaned towards each other, foreheads pressed, clinging in the dark.

As you opened your mouth to speak again, you felt an instinctual sting run down your spine as something powerful, something old stabbed out of the gloom behind you. You grasped Kento, rolling him sideways with you, and felt the air split beside your cheek as a foul black tendril shot like a lance, missing you by a hair's breadth and piercing, instead, into the brickwork on the opposite side of the well.

Kento lay on his side, stunned-- he hadn't felt anything approach. He and you had almost been impaled. His near-fatal exhaustion left him reeling, scraping the barrel, his Cursed-energy depleted by the first and only successful Reverse-cursed technique of his life. He couldn't feel the toes on his broken leg now, and, concerningly, the burning pain had reduced to dull, hot throbs.

As blood whooshed through his ears, sound crept back in and he heard you-- "...up! Kento, get up, we've got to go, we've got to get ou--" Kento felt you stand and draw his arm over your shoulders, and you lifted him with the vigour he had sacrificed to bring you to life.

You roared with exertion as you half-dragged, half-carried Kento partway across the chamber, until he seemed to find his own again, and stumbled with you, his pale face clenched with determination. Ugly crunches shook the ground behind you. Diamond-tipped black tendrils stabbed through the dark, missing you both, rending the ground as the eldritch horror above you roared, hungry, hungry, hungry.

Reaching the rungs of the ladder clinging to the well, you gazed up, stomach sinking as you realised the corrupted goddess blocked your ascension to safety, even if you did both make it up the ladder unscathed. In mute devastation, you gaped. Kento pressed his palms to the wall, pressing his ear flat to it, knocking experimentally with grazed knuckles.

As Kento stepped backwards, drawing back a fist to bring the wall down, seeking a break in the foundations, the fast approaching black tendrils retreated upwards with a snap and a screech-- you both heard shouts above, and the Goddess bellowed, jagged and shrieking, in pain, under attack.

"Nanami! Nanami?" Kento stepped forward, eyes skyward at the sound of Ino's voice. The Goddess reeled backwards, uncovering the surface of the well, and a rumble sounded above, debris falling as she slammed into the walls of the Shrine. Hope sprang up in both of your throats, wordlessly clutching hands as the sounds of battle sprang down the well.

"Nue!" A great masked owl swooped down towards you, landing with a skid, bones crunching beneath its great talons. Upon its back, Megumi leaned forwards, reaching a hand out to you. You faltered as Kento pushed you forwards, and you dug your heels in.

"No, Megumi. Kento first. He's injured." Kento spun to you, clench-jawed and fuming before you pushed him to Megumi. Before Kento could argue, Megumi pulled him towards Nue, and Kento stumbled, clambering upon great red feathers before urging you up into his lap, his thick forearms bound around your waist. With a gut-lurching jolt, the ground leapt away beneath you, and you and Kento felt the frigid slap of snow against your cheeks above the rim of the well.

Landing upon the ground, stepping off, your vision filled with the dreadful horror of the corrupted Goddess. You gasped, recognising the naked human form at its core, buckling under the weight of the twisting bodies and tendrils bursting from its back, vast, almost filling the huge hollow chamber. The woman who had spat venom at you, beaten you to within an inch of your life, on only your second night in the village--

"Emi," you breathed. The pale form of the woman was as a corpse, animated and possessed, as the poisoned Goddess poured out of her, the vessel too small for her containment. Kento was momentarily paralyzed beside you, stunned and reliving his final fight with Haibara Yuu, against a Cursed local deity; boyish terror stripped him bare, no longer a man, no longer a young adult, just a child, a boy, left to fight alone in the dark--

"I'll go," Kento forced, desperate to make amends, bile churning in his belly. You spun to him, to argue, and he interrupted, "I'll go. This needs to end, we need to finish her--"

You stared at Kento in disbelief. You stared into the chaos around you, at brutal short battles being waged between the sorcerers of Tokyo and the remaining few cult members. You stared at Ino, Megumi, Yuuji, Maki, Nobara...all fighting desperately, to keep the eldritch Goddess at bay, fighting a losing battle. You ran your hands in anguish through puzzle pieces, desperate, desperate--

"...but they're dead," you spat, as Kento gripped your shoulders, breathing heavily in his agony, frowning, questioning.

"I...what?" Kento was drowsy, drunk with threatened collapse. His eyes blurred as you nodded frantically to him, cupping his face in your palms.

"The people...the people they fed to the Goddess, they're dead, but that Cursed-energy...is too much to be her own. If they're dead, their Cursed-energy should have died with them."

You watched as the information trickled into Kento, his slim brown eyes flickering as his mathematical brain whirred, remembering Father Tatsu, remembering the brothers' techniques...

"...well no, he...the Father he...stole the peoples' Cursed-energy first and imbued the Goddess with it, to...to make her strong."

With a dull thud of realisation, Kento understood. Ino hit the floor with a sickening crash beside him, scrabbling upright again, his bloody nose oozing out through his balaclava. The Goddess shrieked, black arms flailing, now some eerie creature of the deep, and wildly overpowering the team sent to destroy it.

"Fuck," Ino spat, lurching sideways, staggered, "how is it so fucking strong?"

"The Father who originally transferred all the Cursed energy is still alive," Kento barked, "Father Shinzu. It's the only way, if the original Cursed energy owners are dead." With a hopeful pang, Kento realised the same applied to Father Tatsu, who would be rendered all but harmless with the death of his brother.

"So, kill the transfer-guy, Goddess goes back to being a pussycat, yeah?" Ino nodded, joining the ranks of sorcerers now backing away from the writhing Goddess, "Oh! Almost forgot..."

Reaching behind his back, Ino pulled something harnessed from under his sweatshirt. Kento could have cried to see his spotted blunt-blade, heavy and trustworthy in his hands again. Kento felt he had nothing left to give, but was suddenly safer with his beloved weapon to fight alongside. Kento squeezed Ino's shoulder, and Ino almost melted at the strength of silent thanks passed through him by his mentor.

Reaching out for your hand, Kento impeached you with eyes and words; "come with me," he pressed, leaning down, nose to nose, "we finish this together, or not at all." Hands grazing his jaw, pressing your lips and forehead slowly to his, you nodded.

"Together," you whispered. Kento gripped you by the waist, bound together, as much for him as for you.

"Ino," Kento rumbled, "you hold her off. We'll kill the Father. This will all be over." Ino grinned, saluting, and turned to take charge of the motley crew of sorcerers.

Looking keenly at Kento, you saw the slow blink of his eyes, the slight slump of his shoulders, how his grip wasn't as true on his blade as usual.

"Yuuji," you called, and the boy turned to you with wide eager eyes, "Nanamin's hurt. Come with us." Kento frowned at you again, cross at having been identified as weakened. Yuuji looked at his father-figure, concerned, afraid. With a pause and brief hesitation in the swirling snow, Kento nodded once. Yuuji bounced to attention, the three of you hushing out through the snowstorm, beginning to make your way down the hill back to the Fathers' quarters in search of Father Shinzu.

Visibility was next to nil in this sea of white. The scarlet torii gate split through the storm, but it looked...warped, irregular, as if shattered by something, or someone--

Kento lifted you by the waist, throwing you into a snowdrift with a roar as an almighty crunch split the ground between you, a devastating seam running up the path towards the Shrine. Kento's ears rang, and when the sound faded, all he could hear was his own agonal gasping, so desperately exhausted.

Dust settled over the black crack in the earth; Father Tatsu stood, snarling in pain, twisted over, wrenching his fist from the earth.

"Enough of your interfering, Tsuda," he bellowed, convulsing like a wounded bear, "you and your slut can go hang." Kento snarled back, seeing red as gut-churning rage filled his belly at Father Tatsu's slur. Yuuji circled to the side, head low and ready to pounce. You were gone, lost somewhere in the snow drift.

Kento twizzled his blade once in his grip, before rocking forward, the ground cracking beneath his feet as he panned for scraps of Cursed energy, and found gold. He brought his blade down on the junction of Father Tatsu's neck and shoulder, and the old man crumpled to one knee, crying out in pain, his body woefully unable to contain his stolen power.

"You're dying," Kento hissed, teeth bared in fire and fury, "and you're taking us all down with you." Father Tatsu laughed, one hand on the blade, shaking, his teeth gory with the blood of his bitten tongue. He spat a thick glob of blood and phlegm into Kento's eyes, and Kento's head snapped involuntarily back. Father Tatsu took his chance, kicking Kento's injured leg out from beneath him.

Yuuji bullrushed Father Tatsu, all vigour and inexperience, and was hit with a gut-bursting blow to his belly. As Yuuji fell to his knees, retching and vomiting, Father Tatsu stood over him hands clasped together in one great fist, Cursed-energy belching out of him, to strike a deadly blow to the back of Yuuji's head.

A warning jangle rang behind Father Tatsu, and his head turned imperceptibly, too slow to stop you wrapping your arms round his neck, throttling him with the restraining chains still clamped to your wrists. The thin old skin of Father Tatsu's throat tore beneath the icy chains, their power dulling his Cursed-energy for a few crucial seconds.

"Now, Kento-- NOW!" you screamed, clinging to Father Tatsu as he bucked, strangled. Kento forced himself upwards, and the downy flakes seemed to slow around him, as he entered a state somewhere between rage and serenity. With a crack and flash of black and red, Kento brought his blade down on his own forced gradient.

Father Tatsu died instantly, split from neck to groin in an attack which sent you flying back in the snow. Skidding to a halt, you would remember Kento this way for the rest of your life; black long coat flapping in the wind, snowflakes melting into his bloodsoaked hair, heaving with white-knuckled rage against the monochromatic landscape.

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You would not allow Yuuji to kill the comatose old man, surrounded by his own weeping wife and begging nurses.

Shackled to life with cruel intention, brain dead after his efforts to combine Emi with the Goddess, Father Shinzu's bedroom was incongruously crowded by medical equipment. Sounds of life were replaced by regular, irritating bleeps, the mechanical hiss-whirr of a ventilator, the steady march of his own enforced heartbeat.

"I'm sorry," you choked, sincere and nauseous, walking forward with conviction, your fingers settling over pumps, and machines, and devices, the pretence of life, "it has to be this way. He has to die."

Father Shinzu's wife darted forwards as you began to turn off equipment. Her tearstained, twisted face broke your heart as you ended Father Shinzu's life support. Yuuji flung out an arm, holding her back, pale as he watched you work.

Father Shinzu's heart beat for only a few moments after the beeps of the equipment ceased...and the room soon rang with the reedy bleep of his heart flat lining, as his wife screamed at you to stop, furious helplessness in her eyes. Yuuji let go of her, turning with his face in his hands as Kento entered the room.

You stood, eyes closed and silently weeping. The overwhelming pulses of Cursed energy from the Shrine died with Father Shinzu. A few ear-splitting screeches from the top of the snowy hill...and, the unmistakeable silence of the grave.

"You bitch," Father Shinzu's wife screeched, lurching to her feet, rushing at you, and you had the barest moment to see a metallic glint in her hand, "you ungrateful bitch!"

A field of black in your vision- a dull thud, a gasp of air leaving lungs.

"Nanamin-- NANAMIN!"

Your hands shook, head shaking in silent disbelief as Kento dropped to his knees in front of you, and he stared, stunned, at the knife in his chest. He turned to look up at you, apologetic, questioning, confused.

You caught him before he slumped sideways to the floor, struggling to heave his bulk into your lap, sobbing and crying out for him as his breaths grew wet. Sound closed in on you as you begged Kento, hearing Yuuji beg the medical staff in the room for help, corralling them, grabbing them.

As you stared around for help, wild-eyed and sobbing, you felt a large, warm hand come up to cup your cheek. Kento coughed, lips stained with blood, as he gazed up at you with such a tender smile that you wracked with tears, clutching him to you.

"...love you...always knew-- I always knew--" You shook your head as Kento nodded, smoothing his thumb down your nose, across your cheeks, committing you to memory.

"You owe me a date," you wept, pressing your lips to his forehead, "you can't-- you owe me a date--" Kento chuckled, wet and weak...and silenced. You shook him. His body was loose on your lap, a soft smile fixed on his lips, his eyes drifting closed, the run of his blood over your lap stopping.

"Kento-- no-- KENTO!"

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It was a crisp, bright day. Ijichi grieved its passing as he grieved the passing of friends, colleagues, strangers-- administrating, administrating, administrating.

Yaga Masamichi sat opposite Ijichi, a swirl of steam rising from the coffee pot between them. He flipped slowly through folders, an uninterpretable grunt voiced after each one.

"Too many dead," he stated, blunt and low. Ijichi hummed, solemn.

"Imbuing a fertility goddess with Cursed energy..." Ijichi sighed, "...and for what? A dead cult. Dead sorcerers. A dead goddess." Ijichi sighed again, deeper this time, "And so much paperwork."

"So much overtime," Yaga hummed. He stopped, reminded, "speaking of overtime, Ijichi...how is Nanami?"

Ijichi looked up, smiling.

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"...stab wound penetrating the left lung, one very broken leg, some cracked ribs from the CPR, abrasions...you're lucky the medical staff there helped you, Nanami."

Nanami grumbled, still aching and scarred, despite Shoko's efforts to heal him after Father Shinzu's doctors and nurses had intervened.

Shoko almost giggled, taking a long, slow draw on her cigarette, "I wouldn't have helped you if you'd just murdered my patient in front of me."

"The murder was all mine, actually," you piped up, batting away Kento's sore hands, buttoning up his shirt for him as he pressed his nose and lips to your hair, "but this guy, just can't stop himself from being a hero--"

"--darling, I was just doing my job--"

"-- swooping in at the last minute to save me--"

"--really now, you think I'd just let you--"

"--and he still owes me a date."

Kento laughed despite himself, fixing you with a stern look; "Darling...read the room."

You pursed your lips in mirth, cupping Kento's face in your hands, staring into each others' eyes, seeing only each other and the promise of a better life. Shoko smiled fondly at you both, tapping at her cigarette thoughtfully.

"I'd say you two deserve a holiday. A real one."

Kento leaned down, his lips ghosting over yours, basking in your warmth; "Where should we go, my love?"

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Infiltration is finiiiiiiiished! 🎇 ❤️ 🍾

Thank you so much to all my readers; those who have been, those who are, and those yet to come.

You've all made this so much fun.

Yours, faithfully,

Haitch xxx

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romanceyourdemons · 1 year

Text

here’s a second century warlord followup (3.2k words)

By Strategem, Huang Mi Turns Aside an Army of 100,000

Huang Mi cut down the hill to the south of the city and realized four feet down how poor an idea that was. The hill, steep enough that he had to descend in zigzags, had seized into a stone-hard lump with November frost, and the glazing of snow spread across the unyielding dirt denied his shoes any purchase at all. He managed to slide directly down for several feet, his knees bent and his skirts hitched to his knees in an already unsuccessful attempt to keep them free from winter muck, but his right foot caught on a stone, turning his controlled glide into an unplanned splits and then into a reeling, careening half-tumble down the rest of the hill. He was glad the blank south wall of the city was the only thing bearing witness to his humiliation. He was less glad when a man caught him, and less glad still when he recognized the man as the one he least wanted to be embarrassed in front of. “Lord Yue,” he said, bowing before his liege to keep his flushing face angled toward the snow. He would have much preferred breaking an arm against a tree.

“Yuzhi,” said Lord Yue, helping Huang Mi up. “You’re hurt?”

Huang Mi shook his head.

Lord Yue wrapped his scarf around Huang Mi’s shoulders and neck. “You’re cold, then. Where’s your horse?”

“Still up there. I couldn’t figure out how to get it down the hill.”

“You just take that footpath around.”

“Oh.” Huang Mi turned to make the long trek up to where he had left his horse tied to a branch, but Lord Yue took his arm and turned him back.

“I’ll send someone up to get it. Let’s get inside first and discuss.”

Huang Mi barely remembered to give Lord Yue back his scarf before they entered the room where General Chou, General Wu, and Governor Han waited to hear the results of Huang Mi’s expedition to the army camped thirty li to the south of the city. That army should be the only thing on their minds. Huang Mi would have gladly kept Lord Yue’s scarf and maybe slept holding it, but he could not allow anyone in that room suspect that his feelings for his liege were anything other than appropriate loyalty. That he could not let Lord Yue know went without saying: he had great trust in Huang Mi as his advisor, and anything that damaged that trust put their entire army at risk. Neither General Chou nor General Wu particularly appreciated Huang Mi’s quick elevation in the six months since he swore loyalty to Lord Yue. They were brilliant warriors and valuable generals, General Chou highly capable in frontal attack and General Wu with a skill for ambush, and between the two of them Huang Mi did not doubt they could take care of him cleanly enough. And of course he could not let Governor Han know: she was Lord Yue’s wife. He tried to make himself look presentable as he sat to deliver his report.

“The army is a hundred thousand strong. They are trying to reach Lord Liu within the week, and they are demanding two-thirds of our grain.”

Governor Han interrupted incredulously: “They expect us to survive off a third of our stores?” Between the citizens, the army, and the four households of refugees they had accepted earlier that month, it would be difficult to make their grain last the winter as it was.

“They were very specific. They claim they will accept the gift of two-thirds of our grain, or they will sack the city and take all of it.”

“I certainly hope you didn’t take them up on that.”

“I told them they should save their efforts. We’ll burn the grain before letting it fall into their hands.”

Lord Yue nodded proudly, the way he nodded proudly at everything Huang Mi said. He had too much faith in Huang Mi. The generals had just the right amount of faith and muttered bitterly between themselves. In fact, Huang Mi had not intended to make such a bold statement at all. His plan had been to stall and make a break for home as soon as possible, but his “there’s no need” had turned into a fierce statement of opposition before he fully planned the sentence. He wished Lord Yue didn’t trust him so much. He really wasn’t much of an advisor at all.

“I hope you have some kind of brilliant plan, Advisor Huang,” said General Wu. He articulated the title with acid precision, and, even though Huang Mi did not particularly mind having lost the command he once held, he knew a barb when he saw one. He smiled, though, and assured the generals that the situation was under control, and Lord Yue suggested they have some supper first, if Yuzhi’s plan could allow for such a delay. Huang Mi’s plan certainly could: it did not exist yet. He wished Lord Yue wasn’t so good to him. He wished he could tell Lord Yue that he was as good as he claimed.

Governor Han drew Huang Mi aside as the group broke to prepare for supper. “You don’t have a plan, do you?”

Huang Mi went very still, like a cornered deer. Governor Han had been Lady Han until the city’s erstwhile governor became bedridden with a sudden illness in September and asked Lord Yue to manage civil affairs until he recovered. Lord Yue had no training managing civil affairs, but his wife did, and she had filled the post flawlessly. The title “Governor” had originated as one of the generals’ low blows, but Governor Han not only allowed but preferred it. Her skill in governing certainly merited it. She and Lord Yue, Huang Mi had pieced together from confessions and rumors, had been espoused in an effort to prevent the war that broke out between their fathers and killed them both regardless. Proper spousal affection had never developed between the two, not even when she traveled to the front to be with her husband after he suffered a grave injury, and especially not when, more than eight months later, she was still unable to return home. She preferred to speak to him as Governor Han and Lord Yue, rather than as his undesired wife and her undesired husband. Huang Mi did not understand how she could not love Lord Yue—after the many long nights he had spent with Lord Yue playing chess and discussing schools of strategy, he had determined that there was no one in this world better, kinder, braver, more intelligent, or more gorgeous than his sworn liege lord—but that was Huang Mi’s own problem, not Governor Han’s. For now, Governor Han’s problem was Huang Mi. “You don’t have a plan,” she said efficiently. “Tell me what you think your plan should be.”

Like a whirling leaf catching on any tree in its path, Huang Mi’s whirling mind caught on anything that looked like a plan. “General Chou can pin them against the bend in the river, and then General—”

“River’s frozen. Won’t work.”

“General Chou can lead them into Hawthorn Pass, then a contingent led by General Wu can burn—”

“Everything’s wet. Won’t work.”

“General Chou can guar—” Huang Mi noticed Lord Yue approaching and quickly changed his tone. “General Chou will divide his men to guard the north, west, and east gates, making as much a show of force as he can. A hundred archers will hide out of sight on the south wall, and, after dark, we will boil snow on a bonfire inside the walls. The enemy will see this and think that we are burning our grain, and that we are relying on the protection of the hill to defend us on the south side. They are desperate for grain, and will pour down the hill into the pits full of sharpened sticks that we have dug. The archers will also shoot them down, and General Wu will have led his men around behind his camp by way of Hawthorn Pass to rout them from there.”

Lord Yue smiled, apparently completely satisfied with this made-up plan, but Governor Han frowned. “Why will they go directly down the hill when there’s a footpath?”

“We’ll block it with boulders. I got a look around the enemy’s camp—they’re eating every third day. They won’t be too careful.”

“And do you really think we can have your pits dug by nightfall?” Her skepticism seemed softened, but it was certainly far from appeased.

“If Governor Han will let us requisition wagons from the city to transport the earth away, I am sure we can manage it.”

“Excellent,” Lord Yue said. “I’ll inform the generals, and we’ll get to work.”

If the generals received Huang Mi’s plan with their usual sidelong remarks, Huang Mi did not hear them. They began work, and they worked as evening bled scarlet over the cloudy skies, and it was not until twilight grey muddied the sunset that Governor Han pulled Huang Mi away from Lord Yue once again. “It’s not going to work,” she said. “The ground is too hard.”

She was right, of course. Even with pickaxes the work was too slow. Huang Mi sought refuge from the obvious in ill-advised bravado: “If we had my hometown men here, the pit would already be ten spans deep.” He missed his men. He had not been a good commander to them, and he was glad that they were safely in the service of the shrewd and competent lord they had intended to swear loyalty to from the start, but there were times when he felt very, very alone in Lord Yue’s camp, and there were times when he lay awake at night to worry about the inevitable day when he would have to strategize for the man he loved against the men he loved. If he cared for Lord Yue less, he would be able to forget his lord. If he cared for Lord Yue more, he would be able to forget his men. He knew he would never forget his hometown, cradled by soft green mountains where immortals liked to hide and full like a cup with the scent of plum blossoms. He knew that he would likely never see his hometown again. He would likely never see a springtime again. It would have been better for everyone if he had never laid eyes on Lord Yue.

“This stops now.”

“What?”

Governor Han crossed her arms. “Advisor Huang, listen to me. When I was young, I was in love with my tutor. I might still be. I’d have to see him again to know for sure. I wanted him to admire me, so I would say just anything in answer to his questions. And he was just as infatuated with me as I was with him, so he would accept my wrong answers. My father heard me give a completely incorrect recitation, and he said that to me: ‘This stops now. You can marry your tutor and I’ll get you a new one, or you can get yourself out of love with him and continue your studies.’ That’s what I’m telling you now. Get yourself out of love with Lord Yue or get yourself into something real with him, but this—” An eloquent flick of a fingertip summed up Huang Mi’s past six months of agony. “This stops now.”

Huang Mi wanted to say something to stall, but he could not come up with even the most meaningless of platitudes.

“I don’t mind and he won’t mind,” Governor Han continued mercifully. “He doesn’t mind my lover. I think he minds that you’re not already his. I only care that, short of some flash of genius from your famous mind, my city is going to be ruined by morning. Make your decision.”

“I…” This decision was too big to make. This decision was more daunting than the army a hundred thousand strong camped beyond the hill. “I need some time,” he said, leaving Governor Han before she had a chance to call him back and struggling directly up the hill, relishing the sting of cold and bark tearing at his hands as he pulled himself up by roots and stones. He balanced himself on the ridge, windmilling his arms to keep himself from falling backwards as he shuffled to a more sure footing and turned around. Through the gloom and heavy flakes of snow, the archers on the south wall could not be discerned at all. That was good. The line of trees and brush at the bottom of the hill broke up the shape of the pit and made it difficult to identify from this height. That was good. But the pit was hardly a forearm’s length deep, and the twilight was already tightening into dusk. They did not have time. He squatted and contemplated falling onto his side as he watched snow gather on their two dozen wagons of dirt. This snow fell so heavily, so fast. Already some of the wagons looked like they were filled not with frozen soil but with—

Huang Mi bolted to his feet quickly enough to make his cold knees ache and began pelting directly down the hill with violent abandon. He did not care what it cost. He needed to get to his lord as soon as legs would take him. Running calculations on the fingers of one hand as he poured himself over the uneven snowy ground lost him his balance, and he traveled the rest of the hill on his stomach and face, but he had his answer as Lord Yue helped him up a dozen yards from the hill’s base and half-carried him to even ground. “Tarps,” Huang Mi said. “Governor Han, we need tarps! We need to act quickly, my lord. Have the men shovel snow onto the wagons, enough to cover all the dirt. Full to heaping. Then have them cover the wagons with the tarps, but tack them down carelessly—leave snow showing. General Wu will lead the wagons by the high road through Hawthorn Pass. Two torches in front, no other lights. Then he’ll dump the wagons—” A dark look from Governor Han made Huang Mi hastily amend his plan— “the wagons’ contents into the gorge, extinguish his torches, and return as quickly and stealthily to the city as possible, keeping off the main road and hiding the wagons in woods for safekeeping.”

“Is that all your plan?” asked General Wu. He wanted to pick a fight, but Huang Mi did not have time.

“Three more things,” he said shortly. “General Chou will rearrange his men to guard this gate as well, and Lord Yue will prepare a force to attack the camp once General Wu informs us of the completion of his task, and if General Wu loses a single man before sunrise then on sunrise he may personally kill me any way he wishes.”

Lord Yue made a sound of acute concern, and Huang Mi certainly did not enjoy having to put his neck on the line to make his word good, but it was almost dark and there was no time to bandy words. He smiled at Lord Yue and shook his head, and Lord Yue sighed. “Do what Yuzhi says,” he said, “or the consequences will be the same as if you had disobeyed me.” General Wu pressed his lips together to smother his mouthful of words and bowed to accept the instructions; Governor Han raised her eyebrows expectantly at Huang Mi and permitted his reassuring look; and Huang Mi’s new plan ground into action, shovelful by shovelful.

“My lord,” Huang Mi said on their return to the city, once he and Lord Yue were safely alone between four walls. He had an ultimatum to meet. It frightened him more than rebuffing the ultimatum of the enemy, but Governor Han had been right. This had to end now.

“How many times will I have to ask you to call me Ziyi?”

“My lord, this may be the last plan I make for you.”

Lord Yue shook his head emphatically. “I won’t let General Wu hurt you, Yuzhi. I won’t even let him scratch you.”

Huang Mi’s heartbeat pushed and tugged at his fingertips, hidden inside his sleeves. He resisted the urge to chew his knuckle. “It’s not that. It’s…” Any words he might have followed these eluded him, so he tried again: “I wouldn’t mind dying, either, if I—could kiss you first.” The sentence stung the air. He had preferred his cowardice. He finished his confession as lamely as he had begun: “And I am afraid that makes me an unfit advisor.”

“I’m not.”

Lord Yue let silence spool out after these words for so long that Huang Mi began to wonder what they meant.

“I won’t lose you, Yuzhi,” Lord Yue said. In the firelight his eyes looked more green than gold, and his hands already enclosed Huang Mi’s cold hands as he spoke. “Not as an advisor, not as a lover. You’re the only one I really trust.”

“The generals say I’m a rabbit trying to lead a pack of wolves.” Huang Mi wanted to bolt.

Lord Yue smiled, a smile that suggested the generals were going to receive a lecture soon. “A rabbit, perhaps, but a rabbit with the instincts of a tiger and the good fortune of a phoenix—and the looks of a very handsome man. I’ll even kiss you if you call me Ziyi.”

Huang Mi felt light-headed. This was not something that was supposed to happen. This was something he had wanted to happen for—for his whole life, it seemed to him now, but it was not something that was supposed to happen. He made himself nod. He made himself ignore his racing heart and say, “Okay… my lord.” He did not realize his error until Ziyi began to laugh, and then he smiled too and corrected himself—“Ziyi, Ziyi, Ziyi”—until Ziyi’s lips got in the way of his voice.

General Wu returned before long, his men still unharmed, and Ziyi took reluctant leave of Huang Mi to lead his crack troops to the deserted field of melted snow where the enemy had recently been. The enemy, mistaking the ill-lit wagons of snow for all the city’s grain, had followed General Wu to the gorge, where they had seen the destruction, it seemed, of the grain they so desperately needed. Caught between the options of finding a way to the bottom of the gorge to salvage what had not been washed away by the river and crossing the bridge to the next stronghold, already distantly visible, they chose to break camp and move on.

When Ziyi saw Huang Mi again, he picked him up and twirled him around; when the generals saw Huang Mi again, they grudgingly nodded respect. When Governor Han saw Huang Mi again, she congratulated him and told him that she wanted every borrowed wagon returned undamaged by the end of the next day. General Wu had hell to pay when he could not find one of the wagons again. But that was not a problem Huang Mi had to solve. For seven days and seven nights, Ziyi never once let him feel cold.

#i heard yall wanted them to kiss #ryddles #second century warlord

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lunnybunny12 · 3 months

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Husk X Daughter reader

Requests open

I've always been a gambling man

Masterlist

Husk was your dad when you two were still alive. He was at his bar in the Hazbin Hotel, when you suddenly fell from Heaven down, through the roof of the hotel right into the bar

You died

Pretty simple right?

You died in a pretty normal way. No drink or drugs or pills just slipped away in your sleep.

At first, you felt weightless. like a balloon in the wind. Going up and up with no thoughts, just floating. The higher you went, the brighter it got. Brighter and brighter. It was all blurry.

You were so close. You felt warmth. You felt joy.

But then it stopped.

everything stopped when you felt something cold and heavy snap around your neck.

-----------------------------------

"OK, everyone. gather around were going to do another session" Charlie sang earning a groan from most of her guests.

It was an average day. Well ... as average as a hotel in hell could be. The Sky was red, the bar was full and Nifty was killing bugs.

"Seriously? What now?" Angel asked

"Yeah, do you need me to bring you some roaches to use as an example of what happens when they don't play nicely?" Nifty maniacally giggled with her knife.

"I appreciate the offer, Nifty, but maybe another time. No, today we will be doing 2 truths and a liiiiieeeee !!!! " Charlie cheered.

Another collective groan echoed through the lounge.

"Wiiiiithhhhhh alchoholllll !!!"

-------------------------------------------------------------

One by one everyone had their turn. some were relatively harmless and others not so much.

"And Alastor, It's your turn" Charlie smiled nervously

Across the room, a grumpy old cad was grumbled under his breath.

"As if you'll get that bastard to play this fucking game"

"Now now Husker don't be so quick to judge. that's what got YOU into trouble in the first place." Alastor chimed and walked to sit with the others in the lounge.

Husk growled.

"Now, let's see" Alastor grinned. " 1) I like dogs. 2) Jambalaya is my favourite food. 3) We will be expecting a new member of staff very soon."

Vaggie glared at the man " What?"

" A NEW PERSON!" Charlie beamed. "When are they gonna get here?"

Suddenly a loud crash was heard from the upper floors and came through the ceiling. Dust and rubble went flying everywhere leaving a thick cloud of muck in the air.

It smelled like fire and burning flesh. It made everyone caugh.

A claw crawled out of the mess. Large black eyes were darting around in panic. The creature stumbled to the bar, a mist of dust following close behind them.

"Ey! What the hell! My bar! Get away you fucker!"

"I just fell through your roof and you're giving me shit?" You hissed, trying to shake off as much dust as possible.

You erupted into a fit of coughs and wiped your eyes.

"Where the fuck am I?" you blinked. Your vision was hazy until a tall, red figure walked to meet you.

" Ah hello there my dear. Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel. My name is Alastor, and you are?" He asked extending his hand for you to shake.

"I'm (Y/N)?" you answered, looking around.

It was a bit of a dump. But you did just fall through the ceiling. A lot of circus imagery covered the walls and everything was dripping stem to stern in red and gold.

The more you looked around the clearer it got you began to see other faces. One was a young lady. Long blond hair and a huge amazed and excited grin on her face. she was practically jumping for joy.

Another was a shorter lady. She wasn't as excited to see you. More like suspicious.

And then there was... A cat? A very horrified-looking cat... and a spider-person? A snake?

You started to panic. "W-What the fuck is this place? Why are some of you guys animals?"

"Speak for yourself there toots. You look like poos in boots" The spider laughed.

You looked at yourself and almost screamed. You were covered head to toe in ash grey fur, with black paw-like hands and claws for fingers. A long tail wrapped around your leg making you jump almost 3 feet in the air.

Tears were welling up in your black eyes and your heart was going a million miles an hour.

"Ok, understandably you're a little freaked out. Come with me. Im Charlie by the way." She smiled, taking your hand and leading you to a chair.

The second you were sat down Husk practically flew over the bar and dragged Alastor into the hall.

"What. The. Fuck. Is SHE doing here?!"

"The Hotel needed a Receptionist. She has plenty of experience and-"

"YOU KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!" Husk seethed.

"Did you do this to her? Did YOU kill her?"

"Husker I can do a lot of things but killing the living, I can not. You know exactly why she is here."

Alastor walked over to the door and looked at you with an evil grin.

"I can't say I see much of a resemblance Husker. Must take after her mother."

#hazbin hotel x reader #husk x reader #husk hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #vivziepop #helluva boss

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the-kr8tor · 13 days

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Horror/slasher movie actor hobie x actor reader whose the protagonist of the story 💳💳💳💥💥💥

Silly actors that meet for the first time and falls in love on a silly horror movie set

ACTOR AU!!! LET'S GOOOO!!!! (Thank you for requesting ly bestie ❤️❤️❤️)

Pairing: Actor! Hobie Brown x Actress! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, fem! Reader, no specific physical description of the reader, R is mentioned wearing make-up, Actor AU, Fame AU, CW food mentions, Pretend blood, pretend violence, Pretend death, FLUFF.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You run on the soft soil, sweat dripping off your brows. Your trainers sink under the earth with every step. The wet squelch behind you tells you to run faster, but your curiosity gets the best of you. With a quick look behind your shoulder, you instantly regret it as the tall masked man has gotten closer to you with his long strides.

He walks the same path you've taken like he's on a stroll in the park. His leather punk jacket and clown mask is drenched in warm blood— the blood of your fellow camp counselors, the blood of your dearly departed friends. Even with his casual movements, his entire demeanor sends a shiver down your spine. Heavy footfalls and a bloodied knife makes you run faster than your own feet could take you.

With the moonlight as your guide, the fog blanketing the dense woods, lungs burning, you trip on nothing.

“Fuck!” You shield your chin with your hand to avoid the hard impact. Hands braced, eyes closed, your face meets the moist forest floor. Dirt in your fingernails, grass in your hair, a warm hand flips you around by your shoulder and you scream loudly. The sound echoes around the dark woods, eyes wide, the killer raises his sharp knife to plunge it in your heart.

Your eyes meet the killer's eyes behind the mesh of the mask, gorgeous mismatched eyes greets your own. To your surprise, he winks and your terrified scream falters in your throat. Eyebrows knitted, hands on the villain's broad shoulders, he stabs you in between your ribcage.

“No!” Cold blood splatters out as you try to wrench away the mask from your murderer's face. With your last breath, tears in your fear filled eyes, his name falls out of your lips without a second thought. “Hobie?”

Hobie tilts his head with a playful smile, sticky blood smeared on his chiseled cheek, blue and hazel eyes staring at you fondly.

“Cut!” The director yells, and you audibly groan at your mistake. A bell rings, spotlights suddenly click open, the lights almost make you blind. The crew murmurs around as the director puts his hands on his hips. “The character’s name, darling! Not his real name,” he kneads at his temples. “Everyone take ten!” With one last frustrated groan, he walks away, entering his tent with a stomp and grumbling about changing the villain's name.

“I fucked up, didn't I?” You ask, still under your favourite co-star. “I'm sorry.” Frowning, you ready yourself for a berating.

Instead of a glare and a passive aggressive comment, Hobie wipes your cheek free of muck with his warm thumb. Eyes staring softly, his touch lingers.

“There, I just did the makeup department a favour. Not like you need it anyway.” He flashes his signature smirk, the same smirk that has people falling over themselves just to get a glimpse.

Your heart pounds loudly as he gets back on his feet, leather squeaking, he reaches down to help you up. Taking his hand, he lifts you up effortlessly, not even breaking a sweat or straining his muscles.

“Thank you.” You say fondly. The numerous spotlights above make your heart-shaped eyes sparkle.

“No problem. And you didn't fuck up, it happens to the best of us, yeah?” He pats your shoulder, and you think all the friendly late night talks in your trailer are just that, friendly. “You were doin' good, the best fuckin' scream ever. Thought my eardrums were about to burst.”

“Thank you.”

“Stop sayin’ thanks, I was just statin’ a fact, love.”

You hide your flustered face with a nod, cheeks hot. You make your way towards the wardrobe tent to get changed for the next scene where your character resurrects to help the remaining survivors. You've seen better scripts but money is money.

“Thank—” you correct yourself, chuckling as he follows you. Walking side by side, his hand brushes over your own. Hobie smiles, eyes trained where you're walking in case you unintentionally decide to method act and fall flat on your face. “You did great too, you were really scary.”

He snorts, the sound that fills you with endearment. “With this face?” Pointing at his chin, you laugh.

“I guess that's why they made you wear that god awful mask, no one would run away from you.” You push him playfully with your shoulder. “They'd run towards you instead.”

Hobie ignores all the crew scrambling around on set and the numerous cameras pointed at your back. He imagines that you're strolling at a park after a nice dinner where he bravely held your hand underneath the table.

Maybe it shouldn't remain in his mind, maybe he should just ask you, and maybe you'll say yes.

It's long overdue anyway, after two horror movies together and one comedy special, he thinks it's time to try to star in a romcom. Preferably with you.

Stopping in front of the tent, you look at him. “This is me, unless you need to change too—?” Hobie gingerly reaches for your cool hand, index finger lacing around your pinky carefully like he's able to snap it in half. “Y-yes?” You can hear your pulse quickening, you fear that your hand is sweaty and that his finger would slip away from the moist.

“Have dinner with me? A proper one where we don't eat take out in your trailer.” Hobie fakes a cough that's Oscar worthy to hide his nerves. “If you're not busy.” If you want to, he wanted to add, but he wants to remain suave in front of you. He'll save all his hidden awkwardness during the date. If you graciously accept anyway.

Your smile is brighter than the spotlights above. “I have to wear my best disguise then. Y’know, so we don't end up in a gossip mag in the morning.” Pinky lacing around his finger, you stand closer to him, toe to toe, smiles mirroring each other.

“Let me guess, it's a baseball cap with sunglasses innit?”

You giggle, “yep.”

“Leave it at home, you're not gonna need it.” His heart skips a beat at the realization of your closeness. Hobie now knows why you're the lead in most projects you're in.

Eyebrows knitted together, you tilt your head, eyelashes fluttering in the breeze. “Why?”

“The paps don't know where I live.”

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cobaltperun · 2 months

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Woe out the Storm (6) - Goo Goo Muck

Wednesday Addams x female Reader

Summary: It took some time, but eventually you came to realize only Wednesday Addams could look at the raging storm of chaos and destruction and make a home out of it. Only she could listen to the cacophony of the roaring thunder and hear a melody.

Story warnings: Wednesday Addams, violence, slow burn

Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

Word count: 6.2k

-Yeah, I’ll get you baby, with a little luck, ‘cause I’m a teenage tiger and a Goo Goo Muck-

This was not going to end well.

There was no way this was going to end well. What was Wednesday thinking?

So, you did what any reasonable raiju with your skills would do. You took out your, formerly Wednesday's, knife. "Where did you even get that board?" you asked as you watched Wednesday pin rather gruesome photos and other papers to it. Tierra Rica played for what felt like the third time. That was something you learned about Wednesday. She preferred repetition, whether it was her schedule, strict writing time, or playing the same song at least several times.

She just looked back and just slightly raised an eyebrow, as if silently asking you if you were seriously asking her that. Yeah, that was probably an unnecessary question now that you thought about it. It was also kind of worrying that you were wondering how she got that board instead of all those photos... Perhaps you were too used to Wednesday Addams being Wednesday Addams.

Enid on the other hand... You weren't entirely sure she could stomach what was in the photos. Or that she was in the mood to even try to understand the need for this approach.

Speaking of said werewolf, she just entered your room. Ever since Ajax stood her up her entire demeanor lost some of her bouncy energy and it took a lot of pleading from her to stop you and Wednesday from taking revenge on the gorgon. She was so down you didn't even mention Wednesday agreeing to go to the Rave'N with you.

"Hey, Y/N, Wednesday," she stopped for a moment, taking in the sight of you and Wednesday. Seeing Wednesday with the board and papers wasn't much of a surprise. Neither was seeing you hunched forward and sitting on your chair. No, it was the fact that your chair was on Wednesday's part of the room, the fact that you were sitting a few feet behind Wednesday, watching whatever she was pinning to the board. And there was a knife in your hand, coincidentally, it was the knife Wednesday threw at you. Not that Enid knew that part, but she did know the knife belonged to Wednesday.

You could see cogs turning in Enid's head. "Am I interrupting you?" she asked, now carefully observing Wednesday for any reaction that might seem out of the ordinary.

"No," but Wednesday was so focused on her task you doubted she even noticed Enid's reaction. Frankly, you thought Wednesday's laser focus was admirable.

Admirable. Not adorable.

She'd probably smother you in your sleep if you ever used that word to describe her.

"Wednesday is just pinning photos of the monster's victims so she can get inside its head," you said causing Enid's jaw to drop slightly.

Enid covered her mouth in shock. "The actual photos?" she gulped, her claws coming out instinctively.

She was taking it even worse than you thought she would, so you jumped to your feet and rushed toward her. On foot, since lightning would likely startle her.

The damage was already done. "I don't see how any other photos would help," Wednesday, still focused on her task, either ignored or didn't notice the evident panic in Enid's voice.

Your eyes widened when you saw Enid falling to the side and in a lightning-enhanced jump, you managed to reach her and catch her before she could fall to the floor. "Wednesday," you sighed, exasperated by her lack of consideration.

For the first time since she began pinning the files and photos, Wednesday took her eyes off the evidence and glanced at you and Enid in your arms. Her eyes followed you as you lifted the werewolf up and carried her to her bed. "Perhaps you could zap her awake?"

You nearly dropped Enid as you stumbled a bit at the suggestion. You opened your mouth several times, honestly not even sure how to respond to that idea. "No?" you eventually settled for an incredulous response as you just looked Wednesday in the eyes.

Wednesday kept staring into your eyes, refusing to be the first one to look away, or even blink. And you weren't backing down either, even if you did have to blink. "Pity. Thing, fetch the smelling salts," she ordered and the hand was on his way to wherever Wednesday kept those.

You looked away, but only so you could follow Thing with your eyes. He was clutching the smelling salts in question between his middle and ring finger and his palm while running toward you on the remaining three fingers. You took a few steps forward and leaned down, letting him climb onto your palm. With a thankful smile on your face, you took the smelling salts and proceeded to wake Enid up with them.

It took a bit, but she regained consciousness and looked around, still a bit disoriented. "Y/N?"

"Welcome back," you grinned and stepped back as you placed Thing on your shoulder and the smelling salts in your pocket.

"I had this nightmare. Something about Wednesday bringing photos of the monster's victims to our room," she groaned and rubbed her eyes.

"Uh," you glanced back at Wednesday, her back was turned to you, but you could swear you noticed a bit of extra stiffness in her posture. If that was even possible.

"What?" Enid demanded, looking at you and then following your line of sight. "It wasn't a dream. Yeah. Sure. That might as well happen," Enid nodded as she sat up. She stood up and went right for the cause of the newest room decorations. "You know, when I suggested giving your part of the room a make-over, I did not have Ted Bundy's Pinterest in mind."

Wednesday turned around to look at her. "Still not as creepy as your stuffed unicorn collection," she turned back to the board once again.

"Is this why she and Thing snuck out last night?" Enid asked you when you walked over to her, ready to catch her if needed.

"Yup. To the county morgue actually," you caught her up to speed with Wednesday's recent adventure.

Enid's face showed clear disgust at the mere thought of Wednesday's activities. "Okay, there are so many levels of ew in this whole situation I don't even know where to begin."

"I need to get inside its head. Discover any patterns or anomalies," Wednesday turned toward you and Enid. "I've already made a big discovery," she began taking the photos off the board. "Turns out, all of the monster's victims have had body parts surgically removed," she began handing the photos to you. "The first one a kidney, the second a finger,"

Enid paled as she saw the photos up close. "Wednesday, I don't... really feel..." she was going to pass out again any moment now.

"Third a gallblader," Wednesday, however, went back to the board for the final photo. "And the bearded man from the meeting house, two toes," she placed the last photo on top of the other three in your hands and looked at both you and Enid. "Do you understand what this means? These murders aren't mindless," she went back to the board. "He's collecting trophies like a seasoned serial killer. It's quite impressive, actually."

And Enid passed out.

You managed to catch her once again and sighed. Wednesday turned around, looking at Enid, and clearly not impressed this happened again. Thing, who in the meantime climbed back onto the board just shrugged when she glanced back at him. You offered the photos back to Wednesday and lifted Enid up once again. "Hold that thought for a minute," you said and carried Enid back to her bed. Luckily you didn't put the smelling salts back so waking Enid up wasn't too difficult.

"I'm just going to ignore you two," she resigned to the current circumstances. At least for now. "I'll go to sleep and by the time I wake up that won't be here."

You couldn't help but grin at that as you tucked her in and made sure she was comfortable. You moved back from the bed to see Wednesday watching you like a hawk, she was probably impatient since you did take more than a minute to get back to her. "So," instead of sitting back down on the chair behind Wednesday you stopped right in front of Wednesday. A more logical part of your brain told you you were too close, that you were in her personal space, but you couldn't back down, not unless you managed to catch any hints of Wednesday being uncomfortable with the closeness. "Body parts were surgically removed, right?"

She nodded, her eyes never looking away from your own.

"That monster looked too, I dunno, clumsy, to remove anything surgically," you muttered, looking away from her and looking at the photos pinned to the board over her shoulder. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Wednesday turning around on the spot.

"The monster's hands didn't look like they could hold a saw, or make cuts as precise as these," Wednesday pointed out, her focus once again shifting to the case.

"A lot of outcasts can change shape in some way. Maybe it's a human," you guessed, the body parts that were removed... well, you weren't exactly knowledgable about all that, but you figured at least some of them required a good understanding of human anatomy.

"That would explain why it wasn't caught," Wednesday nodded, glancing back at you. "Do you know any outcast group that can look like that?"

You thought about it. You've been thinking about it ever since you saw that monster. It definitely wasn't a werewolf or a raiju, but other than that you were stuck. "I really don't have any idea. It's not a werewolf, it's not a raiju, it's some beast, but that's as far as my knowledge goes," which really didn't help either of you. "Do you think it works alone?"

That got Wednesday thinking. "I haven't considered that possibility," she admitted and glanced at Enid. "I should move this somewhere else?"

Your heart skipped a beat at that. She really did care, somewhere deep down. "I'd be really thankful if you did. So would Enid. I'd also rather not carry her that often," you admitted. "You can keep it in my shed?" you offered.

Wednesday shook her head slightly. "Too many electric devices. I'll find another place for it," she declined your offer. She did have an aversion to technology and you loved tinkering with it, the more reliant on electricity it was, the better. Still, you understood why she didn't want to spend time there. She didn't even consider your club because of that.

You didn't say you could clear some of the shed out if she couldn't find any other place for her board. "Got it," you muttered, finally stepping away from her.

~X~

Wednesday's day was not going as planned. In fact, it was going wrong in every way possible. The scratches on Xavier's neck made her suspicious, so she followed him. That part was fine. Discovering that his art depicted the monster was great. Now she had a suspect in her investigation and she was satisfied with the progress she made.

She supposed she used up all of her luck for the day. The next thing she knew, she was asking Xavier to the dance as an act of self-preservation. Usually, she would feel good about getting up close and personal with a potential serial killer, but there was an unpleasant feeling of unease that followed. She'd usually enjoy it, but somehow that unease being connected to you made it less enjoyable. She was yet to tell you to find someone else to go to the dance with. She wasn't entirely sure how to, either.

So, that's why she was standing right behind the tape dividing her and Enid's part of the room. Perhaps Enid, due to knowing you much longer than Wednesday, could offer a way to tell you. That wasn't her usual blunt approach. Thing already made sure to talk her out of telling you like that.

"I am going to Rave'N with Xavier," she opened with that, but before she could continue and explain her issue Enid was on her feet and, in a way that was sickeningly filled with excitement, rushed toward Wednesday.

She even squealed. "Oh my God! Wednesday Addams is going to the Rave'N?! My whole world is tilted!"

"That's not-" Wednesday tried, she really did, but Enid was too excited to listen.

"You know what you need now?" Enid interrupted her.

This was not going how Wednesday wanted it to go. "A bullet to the head," might be a solution to the problem. Her own or Xavier's head, either way, the problem would be solved.

"A dress!"

"I already have one," she didn't need one. Not for a dance with Xavier.

"Not the one you came here in! That's a fashion emergency not even Y/N could resuscitate! Thing back me up!" Enid turned to Thing for support.

Thing, the traitor, agreed with a thumbs up. Though Wednesday had to admit Enid replacing lightning with your name felt fitting.

And then Thing pointed at the doors.

"What can't I resuscitate?" and just when Wednesday thought things could not get worse, you walked in. She didn't even notice the doors opening.

"Wednesday's dress! She needs a new one for Rave'N!" Enid moved on to you, luckily not saying anything about who Wednesday was going with.

The situation could still be salvaged and put under control. Even when you just grinned cheekily at Wednesday and went over to your part of the room.

"She's going with Xavier! I'm so excited!" Enid blurted out.

Telling you bluntly the way she intended right after she was forced to ask Xavier would have been better. Wednesday furrowed her brows, looking away from your frozen form. She noticed Thing flinching, likely due to the way you got the news.

"Xavier?" you finally repeated, the tone of your voice flat and without any clue for Wednesday to try and decipher how you felt.

"Yes!" Enid exclaimed as she clasped her hands together. "You're going with us as well! It'll be our first roomie shopping spree!"

Your eyes narrowed at that. "Not in the mood," you bit out, and even as emotionally unaware as Wednesday was, she could understand you were annoyed.

Especially when you went and closed the sliding doors that divided your part of the room from her own. You never did that. Not until today.

"What just happened?" Enid asked, her enthusiasm clearly disappearing. And then her eyes widened as if she realized something. "That can't be right though," she muttered as she looked from the closed doors to Wednesday then back to the doors.

"What?" Wednesday asked, feeling slightly irritated. Enid figured something out and Wednesday wasn't sure what.

Enid frowned for a moment. "No, it's not important right now. You need a new dress," she paused for a moment. "Y/N will be fine, just give her a bit of space."

Wednesday wasn't about to show weakness and argue with that. This was as bad as the day could get, right?

~X~

She should have known not to underestimate the bad luck that followed her.

Not only did Galpin refuse to share information with her, now she had to deal with Tyler looking dejected over her going with Xavier.

"I'm not sure why you're becoming upset," she really didn't understand. She understood why you were upset. She accepted your invitation and then asked Xavier to go with her. She broke the deal.

"That's kind of the problem. I mean, call me crazy, Wednesday, but you keep giving me these signals," his statement confused her.

She met Tyler, she asked him to take her to the station, she went to get her coffee at Weathervane a couple of times. She didn't understand what signals he was talking about. "It's not my fault I can't interpret your emotional Morse code."

"Then let me spell it out for you. I thought we liked each other. But then you pull something like this and I have no idea where I stand," he kept talking but she focused on those words. On not having any idea where he stood...

Wednesday frowned slightly. Was that how you felt? After she 'pulled something like asking Xavier to the dance'? Was that why you closed the doors, and needed some space? Because you didn't know where you stood with Wednesday?

If Tyler was being delusional about her 'signals' as he called them, she supposed she gave you some signals. That talk about Sartre... the knife she allowed you to keep... the unpleasant feeling she had when you didn't even say anything to her about the situation with Xavier.

"You could at least clear that up," Tyler interrupted her thoughts, but she had more important issues to deal with. The case, Rowan's warning, all of that was more important than what Tyler or you felt. She needed to prioritize and she'd do just that.

~X~

You guessed you could admit you were sulking and that you could and should have been at least a bit more mature about your reaction to Wednesday going to the Rave'N with Xavier. You were just a bit too proud to admit it out loud.

Maybe it was a raiju thing. Avoiding the problem until it would solve itself. Just like waiting for a storm to pass. Or maybe you just got that from your dad. Either option worked.

Your sliding doors opened, but you didn't turn around, you just kept lying in your bed. Enid was probably back from the shopping spree. The sound of the footsteps didn't match her, though, so you looked back and saw Wednesday.

"I'm not going with Xavier because I want to. It was an act of self-preservation," she said as you sat up.

All of this looked a lot like how you were a few nights ago. With her in your part of the room, you sitting on your bed, only this time there was a tension you despised. "I'm not even going to ask you how that happened," you probably should have. You should have asked what she meant by that, you didn't. Maybe if you did things would have been different.

"You're still upset," she stated and you nearly laughed at that.

You scoffed, looking to the side. "Why couldn't you just tell me yourself? You are going with Xavier, sure, that's your choice, but at least have the guts to tell me," you didn't know if she liked Xavier, or if she really had no choice but to ask, but that wasn't the issue. If Wednesday didn't feel like going with you, she was free to not go, no questions asked. You just wanted to hear it from her instead of Enid.

"I-" Wednesday began but then stopped herself.

The pause, and the slight uncertainty in her voice made you look at her. Something in her eyes made you question everything, that hint of vulnerability, the hint of her not being comfortable that you were looking for when you stepped right in front of her. It was there now. You have never seen Wednesday's eyes showing this much, leaving so much of what she was feeling out in the open. And it made you feel unsure. The idea of Wednesday Addams actually, probably unknowingly, leaving her emotions open for you to see, was scary.

It wasn't like her.

Whatever she was going to say, she changed her mind. "Excuses don't matter," she turned around and went back to her part of the room.

You just let out a long, frustrated, sigh and fell back onto your bed. This just made things worse between the two of you.

~X~

Prioritizing the case instead of her feelings turned out to be the right move. She found the monster's cave thanks to Eugene, she found its claw, and she got Xavier's blood sample. She even managed to get out of going to the dance with him, though that was unintentional.

Everything was just fine. Even if she did look at your part of the room as she got ready to stake out the cave with Eugene. It was empty. You went somewhere. Likely to your shed. On her way to Rave'N Enid mentioned you liked to be there when you needed space.

Thing jumped on her shoulder and she knew exactly what he wanted. "Not. One. Word," she warned, her voice dangerously low.

But he didn't listen. He told her to postpone staking out the cave and to go to the dance.

"I already made plans with Eugene. Besides, what's the point of going to that stupid dance?" you wouldn't be there, even if you were you'd be there with another date. She didn't need to go there just to see that.

But Thing was persistent. Telling her to go to the dance with you.

"How am I supposed to do that?" you barely talked to her, she had no way of getting you to go with her, besides, she was out of time. The dance was about to start.

Thing's next statement made her cold, dead heart skip a beat.

"You told Y/N what? How could you do that to me?!" he smartly jumped off her shoulder as she went to grab her dress. He actually told you, well wrote you a note, to come and pick Wednesday up so the two of you could go to the Rave'N. She already messed up when she didn't tell you about going with Xavier right away, she didn't want to mess up again. She wanted to take you to see the cave, and she wanted to tell you about Xavier being her suspect.

Thing snapped his fingers, getting her attention. And then she saw the dress from Uriah's Heap.

~X~

You opened the doors to your room and stepped inside. "Thing, you really shouldn't write notes and pretend Wed-" your breath hitched as you took in a sight you doubted you'd ever forget. Wednesday was putting her hair up, already dressed in a black dress that fit her like it was made for her. You were completely aware that you were staring at her, and that your jaw dropped.

Finally, Wednesday glanced at you. The intensity in her gaze, combined with how she looked, nearly made your knees buckle.

"You," you tried to speak, even though your throat was suddenly as dry as a desert.

"Look ridiculous?" she suggested.

You chuckled at that, shaking your head. "No, you look like you, just more regal," you took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "I guess this is what being struck by lightning feels like," you swore you saw Wednesday's mouth twitch into the briefest, subtlest smile you have ever seen.

"Will you," she paused, swallowing hard and looking anywhere but at you. "Would you- don't make me ask," she said, her voice softer than what you were used to.

You smiled, stepping closer to her. Now, with a few feet between you you took in her appearance once again. The way her hair framed her face, the make-up she had on, complete with that dark lipstick, and the dress. Damn, that dress... "Will you go to the dance with me?" you asked, and your heart skipped a beat when she nodded.

"I will," she said.

You nodded at that and hurried over to find anything that would match Wednesday. The rushed search resulted in an all-black combination. Suit pants and a button-up shirt. As you rolled up your sleeves you couldn't help but feel like something was missing. And then Thing brought exactly what you were missing. A light gray tie to disrupt the all-black combo. Considering the limited options and available time you figured it would do. And judging by Wednesday you were right.

She wasn't exactly staring when you put the tie on, but she didn't look like she disapproved either.

~X~

The moment you came down the stairs you saw Galpin there, for whatever reason he managed to come as someone's date. However, that date was nowhere to be found at the moment.

Tyler's mouth fell open at the sight of Wednesday. "Wednesday! You look beautiful!" he approached the two of you. "Look, I'm sorry about my reaction, but I'm here now and since you're not with Xavier, maybe you'd like to join me?"

The audacity of this guy. You felt a couple of sparks surrounding your clenched fist, but you chose to control yourself.

"I'm with Y/N," Wednesday immediately shut his idea down, and you felt your lightning settling down.

Tyler blushed, clearly embarrassed. "Shit, sorry. I just thought since you said you were going with Xavier you two came as friends. I'll, uh, I'll leave you two to it," he backed away the moment he said that.

Maybe he wasn't that bad after all... He just had a massive crush on Wednesday and you really couldn't blame him for that.

"Wednesday? Y/N? What is going on?" just when you thought you could go inside Eugene came up to you two.

"Hey, Bee boss," you greeted him. He looked like he was going on a trip, with a backpack and full gear ready.

"Eugene," Wednesday seemed a bit uncomfortable all of a sudden and you had a nagging feeling she changed her mind at the very last moment tonight. "There's been a change of plans. We'll stake out the cave tomorrow night."

What?

"I understand. I'll go check out the woods alone," he looked a lot like you did when you heard Wednesday was going to the dance with Xavier. Dejected, disappointed...

"Don't go alone," Wednesday ordered firmly. "It's dangerous, we'll go together tomorrow," she didn't let him reply and turned around to leave.

You looked between her and Eugene and just went after her. "A cave? Just how much did I miss?" you asked.

"We found a cave in the woods. It's the monster's lair," she explained quickly.

"I'm going with you two tomorrow," you decided, leaving no space for arguments. The look in her eyes showed you she appreciated that. Maybe she missed having you around? No, that definitely wasn't it. Your lightning was just useful at times.

Pop music played loudly as you stepped inside, to smoke and icy aesthetic and a statue of a Yeti behind the DJ. Climate crisis meets extinction event or whatever Thornhill said. Speaking of Thornhill, she approached the two of you right away.

"Wednesday Addams! And Y/N L/N! What a lovely surprise!" she greeted you.

You pretended to fix your sleeves, not really sure how to talk with the woman outside the classroom. And then you noticed Enid. With Lucas? "Would you look at that, Wednesday I think Enid is calling us!" if you were allowed you would have zapped away, but Weems would have your head if you pulled something like that.

Luckily, Enid noticed you as well, and the three of you met by the drinks.

"Oh my God! I'm so happy you two are here together! And I love the look!" Enid grinned excitedly, she was definitely going to tease you about this sooner or later. Knowing her it would probably be the moment you went back to the dorm. "I don't know how it happened, but I'm glad things worked out."

Wednesday glanced at Lucas. "Interesting choice of a date," she pointed out.

"You can say that again," you agreed.

"It's not what it looks like. Lucas is trying to make his ex jealous and I'm trying to make Ajax jealous," Enid explained as Lucas approached you carefully, with his arms raised in surrender.

"Wednesday, Y/N, I come in peace," he said right away.

"Too bad. I brought my pocket mace. The medieval kind," Wednesday replied.

You raised your hands. "I promise I won't electrocute you this time."

Lucas nodded at that. "Thank you."

The curious look on Wednesday's face told you you should probably explain. "How about we step outside for a moment?" you suggested and luckily she didn't mind that idea.

You took her to a slightly secluded spot with a bench you could sit on. "You've been hearing about me electrocuting people every now and then, right?"

She nodded. "I admit I am curious."

"It's not my proudest moment, but last year, on the Outreach day, Tyler, Lucas, and two other normies, the ones that follow Lucas around, attacked Xavier and destroyed his mural. I just got pissed and electrocuted them," you knew it wasn't right, you regretted not having more control over yourself. Fighting them on fair terms? That was fine. Electrocuting them wasn't...

"I didn't realize you and Xavier were close," Wednesday pointed out.

You shook your head. "We really aren't. I just... I guess I can't stand back while someone is getting beaten up and bullied," it just didn't feel right to stand and watch that.

"You did what you felt was right. Besides, do you really think I'd judge you over something like that?" Wednesday asked, a slightly sinister smile forming on her lips.

You laughed at that. "No, I didn't. I just don't like talking about that. So, electrocuting past aside, may I have this dance?" you didn't offer her your hand, unsure if that was something she'd want, but you did stand up. And Wednesday stood up as well, nodding at you.

~X~

The music started and you watched for any change in Wednesday, but her expression remained the same, stoic and serious. However, she was looking at you with intensity you hadn't seen before.

-Well, when the sun goes down and the moon comes up-

Much to your surprise Wednesday began shuffling a bit, mostly moving her shoulders and upper body.

-I turn into a teenage Goo Goo Muck-

Out of nowhere, she lifted her left arm up above her head and leaned sideways, before straightening her posture by bringing her right arm up. Before you could fully realize what was happening she dropped her arms, turned around, and walked away from you.

-Yeah, I cruise through the city and I roam the streets Looking for something that is nice to eat, mmm-

She got into the rhythm, turned to her left so she was looking at you from the side, raising one arm at a time as her body moved in precise, though seemingly jerky, motions. She was lifting her head up, baring her neck, kicking her leg up, all the while maintaining eye contact with you. And then she stopped, turned to face you, and raised her arms to a shoulder level as she shuffled to the side, her head and arms going left and right to the rhythm of the beat.

-You better duck When I show up The Goo Goo Muck-

She bent down in an instant and you closed your eyes smirking when she tapped your shoulder with her finger. By the third time she tapped your shoulder you released the lightning, ignoring the way other students backed away from the two of you.

The intensity in Wednesday's gaze only increased when you, with sparks circling your body began getting in tune with her rhythm. As she began stepping away from you, you mirrored her actions, and as she moved to her left, so did you, effectively starting what could have been a deadly dance if it wasn't you and Wednesday. As Wednesday stopped you raised your arms up, bent your knees a bit, and brought them back down, releasing harmless lightning in Wednesday's direction.

-I'm the night headhunter looking for some head-

She moved her arms forward, and you couldn't tell if she was trying to bring the lightning closer to her or disperse it.

-With a way-out body underneath that head-

In movements that were only shaky in appearance, she brought her arms to her head, pretending to clutch it as lightning danced around her. She dropped her arms down, moving them from side to side as she looked up, her eyes just for a moment taking the lightning that surrounded her in.

And you, for the first time since you met Wednesday, found yourself truly mesmerized by her. Right there, with your lightning around her body, as she danced, you even dared to admit Enid was right. You may actually have a crush on Wednesday.

-Yeah, I'll get you, baby, with a little luck-

With your lightning still moving to her whim, she walked past you, baring the side of her neck when she was right next to you. You took that as a challenge, sliding after her, you glided across the floor, circling her and leaving a trail of lightning following the path of your left foot.

-'Cause I'm a teenage tiger and a Goo Goo Muck-

She shuffled her foot in a frankly adorable way, not for a moment bothered by the lightning that now rose up above and around the two of you. She made a motion as if drumming and with a snap of your fingers you offered two make-shift lightning sticks for her to hold. As Wednesday took hold of them you stepped in front of her, raising your open palms and creating two balls of lightning for her to drum against. And she did, for a few moments, she did exactly that before tossing the sticks aside, dispersing them in the wall of lightning that encased the two of you.

-You better duck When I show up The Goo Goo Muck-

She ducked right in front of you, and then got up, lifting up her dress and then abruptly slowing down, halting all movement but steady movement of her shoulders. You took a few steps back, gently moving to the music as you lifted your hands up and quickly clapped twice by the side of your head, letting sparks out with each clap. Then you went to Wednesday's side and offered a hand to her.

-Yeah, the city is a jungle and I'm a beast-

Just as Wednesday made a choice to reach forward you pulled your hand back, smirking as lightning formed claw-like shapes at the tips of your fingers. You slipped behind her and without touching her moved one of your hands close to her neck. She raised her head up, just for a brief second looking right into your eyes as she turned around.

-I'm a teenage tiger looking for a feast-

She made clawing-like motions and you stepped back, dropping down to one knee with your arms spread widely and all the lightning gathering around your palms.

-Yeah, I want the most but I'll take the least-

You were shaping the lightning around your hands into two red balls of lightning. Wednesday, surprisingly got into your personal space, stepping sideways between your spread arms and rolling her shoulders as she looked down at you. With a grin on your face you rose back up.

-'Cause I'm a Goo Goo Muck tiger and a teenage beast-

With a lot of concentration, you made the two balls of lightning collide, clashing them against one another and forming the shape of a black dahlia. While still standing behind Wednesday you went and offered the lightning-made flower to her.

-You better duck When I show up The Goo Goo Muck-

Wednesday reached for the flower, tore off the petals, and accepted the remains. You didn't comment on how the tips of her fingers rested on top of your palm as she slowly settled her hand over yours.

-The Goo Goo Muck-

She leaned back, the material of her dress barely brushing against you, but that alone told you a lot, and now you truly had to admit Enid was right.

~X~

Wednesday never thought she'd think feeling as overwhelmed as she was right now would feel like this. The tingle your lightning caused, the way it was clear you made sure it couldn't hurt her while still causing a satisfying sensation, the way you responded to her. The way she leaned back, brushing against you. All of it was almost too much. Yet she didn't move away from you.

"Thanks," you muttered, and she didn't understand what you were thanking for, but somehow she leaned back a bit more, her fingers brushing against your hand.

And then she was no longer at the Rave'N. The monster was above her, pinning her down to the ground in the woods, she felt the claws digging into her, though still not piercing the flesh. And then the colors faded from the world around her, they became muted, less vibrant and she thought she would prefer to look at the world like that all the time. And orange lightning emerged, engulfing her, you... she realized.

When her vision ended she realized you were holding her up, her back pressed against you to avoid drawing much attention. Wednesday thought that, after how you danced, no one would notice her having a vision, they'd just think she willingly leaned back into you.

"Wednesday?" the concern in your voice made her feel sick.

"I'm fine," she said, but that image remained in her head. Goody told her to use a raiju. To use you. But could she do it if that was the outcome?

A/N: I have a newly found love-hate relationship with this damn dance! I love it, but I hated writing it! Glad that one is over with, please, don't make me go through this again.

#wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #jenna ortega x reader

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