#no beta read we die like clones

[friendlyneighborhoodcrow]

Stolen Heart

Hello there, folks! It has been a while, haha. But I am back after my unexpected hiatus. And I am back with something slightly unexpected, a Marvel fic! X-men was kinda my first love when it comes to superhero movies, and after rewatching a few movies, that love has made a resurgence. In particular, Quicksilver! I can not express how much I adore him, so I wrote a fic. I won’t lie to you, dear reader; this is rather self-indulgent, but I tried really hard to capture the essence of Peter Maximoff. 

But anyway, imagine you are a mutant working and training at Xavier’s school, and after a particular incident, you realize, you may have some more than friendly feelings for the silver hair speedster. 

Mutant fem!reader (No use of y/n. plant control mutation)

Relationships: Peter Maximoff x reader 

Warnings: None really, all pretty fluffy. Just good ol’ friends to lovers!

Word count: 2.5k

You had a list of problems, but currently, settled on the very top; was your best friend, Peter Maximoff. You had known Peter for years, you were closer to him than you thought possible with a friend, and maybe it was. It had been a week since your revelation, an entire week of dodging the speedster to understand what was happening. It was awful. You missed your friend and hated him at the same time. How could he be so effortlessly striking? With his silver hair, band t-shirts, silly goggles, and handsome face? It was not fair! Peter was your best friend! Why would the world curse you with feelings that crept from the deepest corners of your mind? Despite all your denial, the newly discovered truth remained, you were in love with your best friend. 

The chaos of your thoughts was hard to escape, and it only worsened when you were in Peter's presence. So here you were, in the privacy of the garden. The lush vines of the garden constricted and writhed as you sat amongst them, attempting to puzzle out why your relationship had changed so suddenly. Sighing, you opened your eyes as it seemed that even your thinking place offered no answers. The plant life of the school's garden calmed and settled into its rightful places as you regained control of yourself. You thought back to the day it happened and could see it so clearly in your mind’s eye. 

It was a chilly spring day, and you had a rare day off from the intensive X-Men training. It had seemed obvious that you would spend the day with Peter, the two of you often seemed joined at the hip, but recently, you had both been called on for missions separately. Now that you both had some time to relax, you agreed to visit Peter’s house to see his family and have a day away from Xavier’s school. Thinking hard, you remembered how you had felt nothing abnormal when Peter wrapped an arm around your waist and held your neck, getting ready to speed off to his Mother’s house. As you thought about the events following, you felt the flowers around you blooming and the vines once again crawling toward you. 

“Peter!” Lorna called as she ran toward the both of you at the entryway of the Maximoff household. Her laughter as Peter hugged her made you smile vibrantly. 

“Hey there, Lorna! Miss me?” Peter questioned his sister.

“Yeah, I did!” She had a giddy expression as she led you into the house, talking about all the recent happenings at home. 

Chuckling at a comment about an incident involving missing cookies, you spotted Miss Maximoff in the kitchen. You walked in, and she stood to greet you.

“Oh, it’s nice to see you, hun! How have you been? Has Peter driven you up the wall yet?”

“It’s good to see you too! I’m doing well, a little worn out perhaps, but it’s no fault of Peter’s, Miss Maximoff.”

“How long have you known me, hun? I think we're at the point where you can call me Magda,” she looked at you almost sternly, but her facade broke as she continued, 

“Well, I’m glad you’re well, but I don’t know how you can keep up with him sometimes.” 

“I’m right here, you know,” Peter said, suddenly holding a stack of snack cakes.

“Alright, Mom, it’s good to see you, but we are going to the basement.”

In a flash, you were in the middle of Peter’s room, which seemed to be equal parts dragon hoard, as always. A dizzy spell set in as you clutched your head, slightly hunched over. You groaned as Peter flopped onto the couch.

“I hate when you don’t warn me, you know?”

“I don’t think you hate anything about me, hun,” he started, mocking his mother’s endearment for you. 

“So what do you wanna do? We could play ping pong or maybe try to beat my high score on Pac-Man,” he said, waving a hand toward his undeniably stolen arcade machines. 

“Maybe, we could go into town and-”

“How does a movie sound?” you interrupted his fast-paced string of ideas. 

“Oh sure, that sounds great,” he jumped up to root through a box overflowing with VHS tapes, “Can’t believe I didn’t think of that!”

You chuckled and sat on the couch beside Peter’s now empty seat. His room had always been fascinating to you. It was like a reflection of Peter when he was a teen, filled with stolen signage, snacks, goods, and electronics, Peter’s room had a little bit of everything, and you loved it.

“How about John Dane in The Jaws of Death?” Peter said dramatically, raising his arms toward you.

“Sure,” you laughed, “But Who is John Dane?”

“No idea!” Peter told you as he readied the small television to play the movie. 

As you reclined on the couch, he appeared next to you with an armload of snacks, including the cakes he had retrieved most recently. Leaning over, you grabbed a box to open as you questioned the nature of the film.

“I don’t know, it’s supposed to be a horror, but don’t worry if you get scared, my arms will be open,” he chuckled and threw you a sly smile. 

“My hero.” Rolling your eyes, you broke into a bag of sugary goodness. 

“Always will be!” he said in his normal upbeat tone of voice, but looking over, he sported a soft smile. 

As the movie began, you settled into your seat next to Peter with a contented sigh, and he mimicked you, putting his leg up and onto the table in front of the couch. 

The volume of the tense music began to rise as one of the characters slowly crept down a darkened hallway. The character, Stacy, wore a nervous expression that translated through the screen to you. Under your breath, you murmured; what a stupid idea. Peter turned to look at you, now nestled into his side and asked you to repeat what you had said.

“I said, what a stupid idea, she’s going to get herself killed!” You whisper-shouted, practically right next to Peter’s ear.

“Well, isn’t that the whole thing with half of these horror movie babes? They walk down dark hallways, and the monster gets them,” he stated like it was a fact as he looked back at the television. “But don’t worry, I’d never let that happen to you.”

“What a prince charming,” you said, “do you think I’d make it?”

“What do you mean, hun?”

“As a ‘horror movie-babe’ like you so wonderfully put it.”

“Well, you're pretty enough, but are we talking with or without the freaky plant control?” 

It appeared that Peter was making a point of not looking at you now. His warm brown eyes were glued to the tv screen as Stacy jumped away from something in the dark. His leg bounced faster than average, and if you didn’t know better, you’d say he looked tense. It could be the movie, you thought. But as you absorbed his words, you felt yourself grow warm. Did he think you were pretty?

“Of course I do! I mean, who wouldn’t? You’ve got nice eyes, and you’re great to talk to and- and-” Peter trailed off as he turned to look at you.

Your face grew even warmer as he answered what you thought was just a thought. Peter’s cheeks sported a dusting of a rosy pink colour that reminded you of your flowers back at the mansion. It looked nice on him- oh man, now where were these thoughts coming from?

In silence, you stared at one another. Despite how foreign it seemed, there was no discomfort, and it almost seemed natural. Peter’s brown eyes seemed to search your face, and you were sure your own eyes did the same. Peter was your best friend, he was funny, he was always there for you, and he was handsome, you couldn’t deny it. He cared about you, and you cared about him. Maybe that’s why you found yourself learning further toward him on the worn couch. With a clear sense of trepidation, Peter inched closer to you. You were sure you’d never seen him move so slowly before. Meeting each other’s eyes-

“Oh no! Oh God, please, no!” A loud shriek ripped through Peters's basement.

Peter and you jumped back and looked at the tv, hearts racing. You started laughing suddenly as a many-toothed-monster took a comical bite out of Stacy.

“Are- are you seriously laughing? At that?” Peter said, starting to laugh as well, though the redness of his face remained. 

“I- yeah, sorry, it’s just- it looks so silly, doesn’t it?” you smiled as poor Stacy continued to scream.

Peter scrutinized the screen as a broad smile began to curl up his face, “Yeah, it looks like- like ketchup!” Peter snorted as he looked back at you.

“I’m glad we spent the day together,” you expressed awkwardly.

Peter paused for a moment. He opened and closed his mouth before speaking, “I am too.”

Once the movie was over, and you said your goodbyes to Magda and Lorna, Peter sped off with you to the school. The day was waning, and the warm sunlight cast golden rays over the school. You were glad to be home. Peter told you he had to talk with Scott and quickly sped off before you could ask him why. Now alone, you walked toward the garden to mull over the day's events. The flowers were creeping up from the ground, and with a gentle wave of your hand, a vibrant bloom of wildflowers stared back at you. Plucking a sizable daisy, you examined the lovely blossom. It reminded you of the days when you, alongside your friends, would pluck the petals asking if the latest school crush liked you back. You smiled at that thought and returned to examining the flower. It had an odd amount of petals; that means he loves me, sounded a voice within your head. 

At that very moment, it felt like your world changed. You wanted Peter to love you. A cascade of romantic images flooded your mind as you recoiled from the daisy, dropping it to the ground. Oh no, this isn’t good. Alone in Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters garden, you realized you loved Peter Maximoff.

“Hey, are you- woah, are you okay?”

A familiar voice called your name from somewhere in the garden. Snapping your dazed eyes open, you realized a wall of flowering vines wrapped itself around you and writhed closer together with every passing second. The voice called again, muffled by the thick green ropes that twisted around you. 

“Listen, we need to talk, but I can see you want to be alone,” the muffled voice said dejectedly. 

Panic struck your heart as the voice registered. It was Peter! Peter was here! Quickly, you raised your hands and took a breath. With a steady mind, you lowered your hands, attempting to drive the tangling mess of plants into the ground. The Vines were slow to move, and you worried Peter would leave before the chaos of flowers and greens would disappear. 

“Peter, wait!” You shouted in the direction you guessed he was in. You cursed the plant's reluctance to move and focused more of your energy on forcing them away. The plants began to shrink back more quickly, and you breathed a sigh of relief as Peter’s figure came into view.

He stood before you in his usual gear but without his typical air of confidence. He slumped forward, and his face with painted with a slight frown as he fidgeted with his hands. He met your gaze and smiled a little, but it did not seem to meet his eyes as you rose to meet him. 

“Listen, I know you’ve been avoiding me recently, but I don’t know why!” Peter started as though the words leapt off his tongue. 

“But you’re my best friend, and I want to be there for you, so whatever is up, you’ve just got to tell me!” He continued, and your heart twisted like the plants around you as his words circled your mind. 

Despite your best attempts to evade the speedster throughout the week, he wasn’t mad, only worried for you. Before you could properly think, you threw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. You closed your eyes and babbled something about being sorry and how he didn’t deserve your treatment. 

“Hun, I know you wouldn’t just up and leave someone, even a loser like me.”

Opening your eyes and gazing at his face revealed his goofy smile, and you smiled back as you maintained your hold on Peter. I want to kiss that smiling face all the time! You thought as Peter looked at you. Your smile faded as you realized there was no going back. Peter was your best friend, but you couldn’t continue to hold onto such tangling feelings. Letting go of his sides, you pulled him down to the grass to sit opposite you. 

“Peter, I’ve been thinking,” you began slowly.

“You’re my best friend, and you’ve always been there for me, and I hope I can be there for you,” you breathed unsteadily as his eyes took in your face. 

“I just don’t think I can keep this inside anymore! You saw the plants, for goodness sake,” you laughed, hoping to relieve the tension that weighed down your figure. 

“Listen, I-” Peter started, but you quickly interrupted him.

“I understand if you don’t feel the same and if you don’t, we can forget about all of this, but I-” You began to shake as Peter’s expression became unreadable. 

“Well, I, I- I think you stole my heart.” You finished with a breath as the weight of the week lifted from you. 

Silence took over the garden as Peter stared at you. You didn’t dare move for fear that he would leave. Peter didn’t move for fear that he would wake up from such a wonderful dream. After what seemed to be an eternity of stillness, Peter leaned forward and brushed his lips against yours. 

You struggled to keep in a gasp as he quietly whispered for your consent. You swallowed, nodded, and met his lips in a chaste kiss. The world seemed to disappear as Peter reached an arm around you. His lips were soft, if not slightly chapped, and his arm held you loosely. The kiss seemed to last for an eternity and a second, all at once. It was soft and filled with a light that you had never felt. It was like flowers blooming. The feeling of bliss continued as he leaned away with a growing smile.

“It’s a habit of mine,” he sighed, “Besides, I always liked flowers.”

His grin became rather sly as he looked over your blushing face.

“So, how does a date sound? Maybe a bad horror movie at my place?”

“I’d like nothing more!” You laughed as Peter stood with you, leading you out of the garden, bright daisies blooming around where you had kissed, all with odd petals.

I hope you enjoyed and I really appreciate your reblogs and comments :)

#marvel #peter maximoff #peter maximof x reader #quicksilver #quicksilver x reader #x men movies #x men #even peters #no beta read we die like clones #yep still using that reference #i liked writing this #I hope you liked to read this #Peter maximoff is the best quicksilver #even peters did it better #days of future past #how many tags do I need? #idk I just like adding tags #fanfiction #quicksilver fanfiction #peter maximoff fanfiction #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff fluff #friends to lovers #my fav trope #never can get enough of it #okay I'm done with the tags #OR AM I?? #yeah I'm done

[ineffablejaymee]

my friend, watching clone wars for the first time: I love this show! Echo and Fives are so funny theyre my favourite characters!!!

me, a season 7 survivor:

#i dont think ill tell them #ill let them be happy #i pity them #🎵my friend just started watching clone wars🎵 #🎵sometimes thats how it goes🎵 #🎵theyre gonna find out what happens in 6th season any minute🎵 #*screaming #... #🎵im sure he already knows🎵 #incorrect hamilton quotes #meme not beta read we die like echo #clone wars #star wars #star wars clone wars #commander cody #obiwan kenobi #ahsoka tano #order 66 #fives clone wars #echo clone wars

[unseentravler]

Tage of the day

#ao3 #ao3 tags #ao3 funny #ao3 stuff #no beta read #nbs day 1 #no beta we die like clones #day 42

[nymphoheretic]

˜”*°•.˜”*°• Plaything •°*”˜.•°*”˜

Synopsis: You've been caught in his trap. And now you're his little plaything. The Upper Moon 4, Hantengu, more so you belong to the 4 clones.

Warnings : smut, gangbang with Hantengu clones, oral(male and female receiving), anal, Double Penetration , degradation, biting, marking, Electroplay, Spit as lube Rough sex , cervix fucking, Monsterfucking , wing play, praise, Blood Kink, creampie, finger sucking, squirting (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word count : 4.6k

Pairing : Hantengu (all four clones) x fem!slayer!reader

A/N: I have no words for this. It's basically straight porn and I know tumblr is gonna slap a label on it. So, check it out on my AO3(same name). I'll link it in my bio/pinned post.

Special thanks to @bleuboyfriend for beta reading it for me! You're amazing Luke!!

Tags: @bakugosbratx (cause I'd get yelled at if I didn't) @herohibiscus (karaku brainrot partner in crime) @linpunny (monsterfucker bestie) @fushisslut (have your lawyer call mine) @sirenspider @unknownspecies @sailewhoremoon @potofstewie @medusashima @sweetblueworm @gh0stfac3-w1f3y @zoroarkstar @potatoboiasta @rav3enmuse @gingerspicelattemix @redsharksimp @shadowvessel172 @hiitogata @iamthepaninpanic @yandere-wishes @tommyinnit-kinnie @maddyybtw @rani-02 @hulahoopingpro @justsomereaderwholikesanime @dedukiddu @shockinglysubmissive @cherryblossomsenpai @cherry1hearts @violxtbxbyy @jeschalynn @jazzthatonewriterchick @comatosebunny09 @ilovetwodmen @cockadodalcuck @nightimewalk-chan @enchantedforest-network

You're not sure how it even happened. You were summoned to slay a demon that had been spotted in a village; only to find a cowardly little imp like Demon that was scared of its own shadow. Cutting its head off wasn't too difficult, but the result was devastating for you. The demon split into four clones of itself. Each one with a different demon blood art. 

They cornered you and the green one, Karaku found you to be so very interesting. His clawed hand reached out and caressed your cheek before tipping your chin back. His tongue – marked with the Kanji "pleasure" – slipped past his lips and touched your lips, tasting them. A deep purr like growl rumbled in his chest as he speaks to his counterparts.

"It's been so long since we've been separated and had a little plaything. We deserve to have some fun, right, Sekido?"

His green Kanji branded eyes flickering down to your torn top – the swell of your breasts inviting him as his mouth watered when he could hear your heart pounding beneath your ribcage. Your eyes dart from him to his three other counterparts. His fingers tilt your gaze back to his as he tilts his head down towards yours. “Ne, Sekido, can we have some fun with this pretty little slayer? Please?”

Sekido grits his fangs, his red Kanji branded eyes narrowing as he taps his staff on the ground, bolts of lightning sparking from underneath. His gaze cuts to your eyes and he can smell the fear that emits from you – saturating the air around them in its scent. He growls out, voice guttural and deep. “Only if Aizetsu and Urogi agree.”

Karaku grabs you in his claws and sits you down in his lap, easily pinning you against his chest  as he spreads your legs. One hand cupped your breasts, pinching your nipples as the other dug its palm into your core, eliciting a moan from you. The sound was like heaven to his ears. Karaku’s tongue touches the shell of your ear before his fangs nip at it playfully. “Aizestu, Urogi, c’mon say yes. I wanna play with our new toy.”

“Get your hands off of m–” Your words die off in a moan when he rubbed two sharp clawed fingers over the damp spot forming over your panties.

“Hmmm, little plaything. You were saying?” He ground his fingers harder against the clothed little pearl of nerves, making you squeal out. “Just look at my counterparts. Hard just from watching us. You all should join. If not, I’m still going to have fun.”

Urogi’s control finally snapped as a feral grin spreads over his lips when your musky scent permeates his senses. His own tongue – marked with the Kanji “Joy" – flicks out of his mouth as he drops to his knees in front of you. “Fuck, she’s sexy. And we get to have fun with her. Don’t mind if I do.” When Karaku ripped your panties off and tossed them to the side, Urogi wasted no time diving his face between your thighs, his tongue curling through your sticky folds.

You arched your back, pressing your ass back against the other demon’s crotch, involuntarily grinding against his hard cock as the one with golden eyes feasts upon your center. It was ironic that the one with “pleasure” on his tongue was not the one between your thighs. You whimpered when Urogi’s tongue curled through your cunt, slurping messily as he sucked on your clit.

Aizetsu whimpered softly as his cock twitched against his thigh, rising to attention. He watched as his two more confident counterparts have their fun with the pretty slayer. “Karaku.” He said finally, his voice soft almost timid. “I think you should be the one eating her while Urogi fucks her throat.” His face flushed as he palmed himself through his pants. “And Sekido should use his blood demon art to shock her into submission as she takes his cock first.” 

Karaku grinned. “That’s a great idea, Aizetsu!” He laid down on the ground, relaxing against the cool floor as his hair fanned out underneath him. “But I think I’d rather her ride my face while Urogi fucks hers.” Easily holding down your hips, he grabbed you and pulled you away from Urogi’s tongue, a string of slick mixed saliva connecting you to the avian-like demon.

Urogi pouted at having his fun ruined, but grinned at Aizetsu’s words. The little shy bastard has some good ideas in that sorrowful mind. He cackled as he fumbled with the tie that held his pants together as Karaku settled you over his awaiting mouth. His talons caressed your face, thumb wiping at the tear that threatened to fall. “You’re going to be a good little cocksleeve for us, right?”

Sekido growled at the softer, more timid counterpart as he tapped his staff against the ground once more. “What utter foolishness. Like I want to stick my cock in that little whore’s body.” But his hard cock betrayed his angry words as he listened to your saccharine moans while his counterparts had their way with you. His narrowed red eyes watched as your throat bulged as Urogi slid his cock in deep, the yellow-eyed demon giggling as you tapped his thigh.

Growling once more, he dropped to his knees, pulling his dick out of his pants and fisted it roughly. His fangs grit as his claws of his other hand found your hair and yanked your head back to force you to meet his eyes. “You should feel lucky that I’m willing to fuck a needy bitch like you.” His palm smacked against the meat of your ass, making your hips buck against Karaku’s eager tongue and forcing more of Urogi’s cock down your throat.

You let out a whimper around the thick girth on your tongue as you feel Karaku dig his claws in your hips, pulling you even further down onto his mouth. He slurped so noisily at your pussy as his tongue dug orgasm after orgasm out of you. You lost count. Your moans were muffled by Urogi as he thrust into your mouth without abandon. Another pathetic sounding moan vibrated in your chest when you feel Sekido’s claws dig into the fat of your ass and spread your cheeks.

Shame filled your body as your eyes darted around, searching for someone to help you, but they only found Aizetsu, who was calmly stroking his cock, pre leaking – oozing from the tip as his face flushed with a blush. 

Aizetsu covered his face with his hand as he watched his counterparts. His voice was soft as he directed them on what to do. “Urogi, wrap your hand around her throat, choke her until she’s able to take all of your cock down her slutty little mouth. She doesn't get th breath if she doesn't. Kakaru suck on her clit more while using your tongue to fuck her hole. Sekido...” He pauses, his eyes darkening with desire as he works his hand over his cock faster. “Prep her ass for your cock.”

Your eyes widened when Aizetsu told the red-eyed demon what to do. You try to shake your head, but Urogi had wrapped his talon around your neck, his hips snapping faster as he fucks more of his cock down your throat.

“Now, pretty little plaything. It's not nice to be distracted. Eyes on me.” He grins as he tightens his hand around your neck, relishing in the choke-like moans that vibrated around his length. When you shift those big teary eyes back to his, his tongue fell from his mouth as he curled it in the air. “That’s the fucking look! Cry more, slayer!”

You could feel Sekido’s sharp claws dig into your flesh as he lowered his face between your thighs, his tongue slipping out to trace the ring of your puckered little hole. You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped. Sekido’s tongue was hot – hotter than Karaku’s. It felt like currents of electricity were shooking up and down your spine. 

Karaku flicks your clit, scraping it with his fangs as his fingers slip over your clenching hole. He lifts you off his face for a moment to stare up at your face. “Aww, is the pretty little slayer crying?” He cooed condescendingly, “Such a good girl you are.” His praise sounded fake as he pushed his fingers past the first ring of muscles of your dripping pussy. “Oh? Maybe I should call you a slut? Or our little cocksleeve whose only purpose is to be fucked by four demon cocks?”

Moaning around Urogi’s cock at Karaku’s filthy words, words that sounded like they were dipped in honey to your hazy mind. His fingers thrust up into you twisting and turning until they found that spot that made your body twitch and wreath above him. “That's the spot. Come on, let go for me. Cum on my tongue. I take pleasure in it.” Karaku mocked as he licks your cunt with the flat of his tattooed tongue.

“Shit, Karaku. Her throat tightened up when you did that.” Urogi’s cock twitches on your tongue as his talons tangle in your hair, pulling you even further down on his girth. “Fuck, gonna cum down this nasty throat. That what you want? My cum painting that greedy mouth of yours?” His smile was beyond feral as the talon around your neck tightens to the point where you couldn’t breathe.

Sekido growled as you ignored him in favor of his counterparts. His tongue circled the flesh of your asshole before pushing past that tight ring and wiggling inside. “Don’t fucking forget about me, nasty bitch.” He used his blood demon art to send streaks of lightning through your body, making you convulse and shake – the feeling making your body release your juices on Karaku’s tongue.

“Did I fucking say you could cum, dirty slut?” Sekido removed his tongue, fangs biting deeply into the roundness of your cheeks, nails digging into your flesh. He relishes in the fact that you had to pull away from Urogi to scream out from the painful pleasure of his abuse of your ass. Your blood trickled down his throat and he moaned a little at the taste of it. It was sweet – a potent elixir that coats his tongue. “Fucking delicious.” 

Aizetsu whimpered as he stroked his cock, his hand still covering his blushing face. His balls felt heavy as his length twitched against his palm, precum dribbling down the leaky tip. He was trying his best to remain calm, telling them how to please you. Aizetsu was shy, but even he had a limit on how much he could take – and he was approaching it. “Karaku, fuck her pussy hard, but don’t cum inside. Sekido, stop teasing her and give her your cock too. Spread her ass and spit in it. Urogi, have her suck your balls.”

Urogi eagerly did as Aizetsu told him, fisting his cock as he tilted your chin to stare deeply into your teary eyes. “Fuck, I love that you're being such a fucking crybaby and we haven’t even fucked you yet.” His thumb slipped into your mouth, talon scraping over your tongue. “You heard Aizetsu. Open up.” Urogi grinned as he placed his balls on your tongue and tossed his head back and lets out a mewl when your lips closed over them to suckle. “Such a good fucking whore you are.”

Karaku licked his lips clean of your sweet essence as he slid you down his chest, a trail of your slick coating his skin until his throbbing cock nudged at your hole. He shuddered at the feeling of your warm pussy gliding over his length. “Gonna fuck you so good. You gonna be a good little toy and take my cock all the way, yeah?” He lined the sticky tip up with your dripping hole and pushed inside with a low moan.

Sekido spread your ass cheeks, his eyes narrowing at the sight of your twitching little hole. Gathering a fat glob of saliva on his tongue, he lets it slide down past his lips to drip down into the crack. He used his thumb to smear it around and slowly pushed it inside to lubricate it more. Sekido lined his cock up with your tight hole and slowly pushes past the ring of muscle. “Tight ass bitch. Let me inside.” He growled as he gripped your hips tightly, claws threatening to rip your skin again.

You stiffened at the pain of being stretched so full by two cocks, the burn almost unbearable. Your moans were muffled by Urogi’s balls still suckled between your lips as he stroked his cock above your face. You whimpered as you felt them taking alternating thrusts inside you, touching the deepest part of you. Tears burned at the corners of your eyes as you could feel your body reacting to them, clenching down on them.

Karaku grinned as he felt your walls flutter and hug his dick tightly, sucking him in deeper. His finger squeezed in between your bodies to toy with the sensitive pearl of flesh. He watched as your back arched against him, shoving more of your ass back onto Sekido’s cock Laughing when he felt your nails dig into his chest like that would make him stop. “You’re so cute, slayer, but Aizetsu said to fuck you hard...” Karaku planted his feet on the ground more firmly, his claws digging into your thighs as he grabbed you tightly. “So, that’s what I’m gonna do.”

Sekido grunted as he snapped his hips roughly, bullying his fat cock deeper into your tight ass. A growl left him as your warm heat wrapped around him, hugging him so tightly. “F-fuck...” He whined softly, his face scrunching up from the pleasure. “Squeezing my dick like this. You must want me to fucking cum in your ass. You’re such a filthy little cumslut.” He grabs your hips so tightly, nails digging into your flesh and causing fresh blood to drip down onto Karaku’s waist.

Urogi’s tongue slipped out of his mouth and curled into the air as he laughed loudly, his cock throbbing at the sight of your tears. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum if you keep looking up at me with that face. Those fucking tears make me so hard. You want that? For me to cum on your face like the needy whore you are?” His voice shudders as his hand speeds up. “Or you’d rather I cum down the fucking throat, plugging up your nose so that you have no choice but to swallow?”

Before you could even answer, Aizetsu made the decision for you. “Make her swallow it, Urogi.”

“You heard him! Open up!” The yellow-eyed clone giggled as he pushed his cock back between your lips, dragging the throbbing hot flesh across your tongue. The tip hit the back of your throat and Urogi howls with pleasure as he grabbed the sides of your head to hold you steady as he fucked into your mouth.

Aizetsu’s face was flushed even as his blue eyes darkened – his control was wearing thin as his cock throbbed with the need for release. His hand wasn’t enough. He wanted to be inside your snug little pussy. He wanted to be the one to fill you so full of cum that it caused a bulge in her belly. Aizetsu bit his lip, fangs piercing the plump flesh and blood dribbled down his chin – which he quickly licked away. Soon. He’d let his counterparts finish first. 

Karaku’s hips meet yours as his cock bullied your insides, his tongue out to show the kanji etched on it as his eyes zero in on the way Urogi’s dick bulged in your pretty throat. “Fuck you’re taking all three of us so well.” His fingers tighten around your thighs – they were sure to leave bruises behind, marking you as his. Karaku grit his fangs as his balls slap against your cunt, cock tingling with the tale-tell signs of his release.

He had half an inkling to ignore Aiztesu’s command and cream this drippy little pussy of yours with his cum, paint your deepest parts in his color. But he was kinder than that. Aizetsu has been telling them just how to pleasure you, all while edging himself. “Go ahead.” He leaned up and nipped at your collarbone, sucking at the skin to leave more of his marks behind. “Cum on my cock. Soak it. Y’know you want to.”

Sekido threw his head back, hair fanning out as sweat dripped down the side of his face. Your tight little ass was giving him so much pleasure. His balls tightened as his dick throbbed and swelled inside. “Fucking bitch. Gonna cum in this filthy ass of yours. You’re just a fucking cumdump for me, got it?”

“Fuck, I’m about to cum.” Urogi grins as his talons pinched into the skin of your cheeks as he thrust in and out of your drooling mouth. “Take it! And don’t waste a drop!” With a few more deep thrusts, his hot milky seed filled your throat at such rapid speed that you had no choice but to swallow or choke.

Karaku moans loudly as his hands leave your thighs to squeeze your breasts as he felt you tighten and clench down on his cock as he found that sweet spot, pressing on his repeatedly until he felt you shaking and trembling. “Give it to me, pretty little plaything. Soak me in your juices. Let me see you make a mess like the good little slut we’re training you to be.”

You tossed your head back as you let out a loud cry. “Oh fuck!” You screamed as you came hard on Karaku’s dick, rings of cream frothing around the base as he continues to fuck you through your high. “I...I can’t. Please stop.”

Sekido grunted as he slid his cock out and pushed it in deep – stretching the tight muscles into his shape. “Shit.” He grit his fangs tightly as his claws cut into your skin once more. “Tch.” The red-eyed clone scoffs at the feeling of your blood coating his fingers. Taking his hand, he grabbed your cheek and forced your lips to part. “Suck your filthy blood off my fingers, bitch.”

The metallic taste that covered his fingertips coats your tongue as Sekido fucks into your tight hole with fast deep thrusts as Karaku’s mouth sucked on your nipples, his fang scrapping over the swell of them as his own thrust began to grow more and more sporadic.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Karaku moaned as he slammed into you once, twice, three more times before he pulled out and fists his slick covered cock. “Shit...” Cum paints your lower stomach and thighs as he finished and breathes heavily as your slick pussy lips grind over his half mast dick because of Sekido’s brutal thrusting.

Sekido grabbed one of your arms and pinned it to the small of your back, forcing you into a deeper arch for him as he fucked your ass with fast, hard snaps of his hips. His cock tingled and swelled inside you as he felt his end nearing. “Slutty ass bitch. You gonna cum from me fucking and filling your ass with my seed? I bet you are.” His teeth grit from the feeling of your tongue swirling around his fingers as you clean the blood off of them. “Fucking...I’m cumming. Cumming...!” He snarled as he came hard, spraying your insides with his hot cum.

You moaned like a cat in heat from the feeling of Sekido filling your tight, puckered hole – it creamed around his cock because it was so much. You collapsed on top of Karaku, chest heaving. “No...” you swallowed. “No, more.”

Karaku runs his claws soothingly over your back, his grin never leaving his face as he heard Aizetsu slowly making his way over to where you were. “But you only took three of us. There are four of us.” He reminded you as the shy blue-eyed clone pulled you up and into his arms.

Aizetsu cupped your cheek as he lifted you up against him and wrapped your legs around his waist. His lips found yours as his tongue seeks out yours. He swallowed your muffled cries and ignored your fists as they pound against his chest. He lined his weeping cock up with your hole, lifting your hips easily.

“Wait a second, Aizetsu. I ain't get a turn to fuck her.” Urogi said as he flew over to the two of you. “Lemme have her ass.”

Hands spread your ass cheeks, cum still dripping out of the tight hole of your ass. “This ass?” Aizetsu whispered as he slid inside your pussy with one fluid movement, your arms automatically wrapped around his neck as you moaned so beautifully for him. “G-go a-fuck-ahead.”

You let out a shocked gasp when the yellow-eyed avian-like demon let out a cackle as his talons wrapped around your shoulders as he lined his cock up with your still twitching hole as Aizetsu slowly thrust up into you. “No, please. I can’t take it anymore.”

Aizetsu turns your face back to his, his tongue – the Kanji “sorrow” etched into the pink muscle – sliding out to lick at the tears that gathered in your eyes. “You can, pretty slayer. Aren’t we making you feel so good? Tell me I’m making you feel good, please?”

Urogi ignored your pleas and pushed the fat tip of his cock past the tight ring of muscles, his knees buckling a bit. “Fuck, you’re so god damn tight. Such a horny thing.” He licked a line up your back, tasting the sweat that covered it. “You love having two cocks in your tight ass and cunt, right?”

Karaku felt left out and walked over to where his counterparts were and grabbed your hand. “C’mon pretty slayer, touch me too.” Wrapping your fingers around his cock, he used the movements from the other two thrusting up onto you to fuck your fist. 

You wrapped your other arm around Urogi’s neck, nails digging into his back as he and Aizetsu pound into you. You could tell the difference between the two by the pace. Aizetsu was slow, methodical and careful – building up an orgasm out of you. While Urogi fucked into you at an animalistic pace, his balls smacking against the curve of your ass. Your mouth dropped open into a series of drawn out curses, nails digging into Urogi’s back as the other squeezed Karaku’s cock.

“Oi, human!” Sekido growled out, not liking that he was the one left out now. “You got one more hole, let me–” He started to take a step towards them, his cock bobbing as he moved when all three of his counterparts glared at him.

“We wanna hear her.” They growled. The sounds of your moans were like the sweetest of sounds to their ears and they wanted to hear it more and more.

Aizetsu angled his hips so that his thrusts were deep, the thick tip fucking against your cervix with each precise thrust. His mouth drops open in a whimper as his eyes teared up from the feeling of your pussy quivering around him. “Please. Need for you to tell me that I’m making you feel good, slayer. I need to hear it.”

Each word of his last sentence was punctuated by a deep thrust and your head fell back against Urogi’s shoulder. “Fuck! You’re making me feel so fucking good.” You gave into the hypnotic spell Aizetsu was lulling you into with his gentle and tender touches.

Urogi laughed as he picked up speed, his balls starting to tighten with the threat of his release. “You’re damn right we are.” His feathers ruffled when your nails dig into the skin between them. “H-hey...” He mewled. “Not the wings.” The avian-like demon lets out a screen when your hand grabs the downy feathers near the base of his wings. A shudder goes down his spine as his dick swelled inside you as it began to paint your walls with his thick cum. “Fucking dammit...” 

Karaku watched as Urogi fell to his knees, his cock popping out of you as he did so. Aizetsu took that time to turn you around, hands wrapping under your thighs so that he could easily lift you up and down on his cock. “Don’t mind if I do.” He shoved the yellow-eyed clone out of the way as his lips attached to your clit.

The scream you let out was like music to them as Sekido begrudgingly walked over to use your hand to stroke his cock to completion. Your other hand wrapped around Aizetsu’s neck as you moaned those sweet sounding cries in his ear, encouraging him that he was still making you feel good. His lips nuzzled your ear as his voice rumbled, “Cum for me. Let me feel you soak my cock. That way I really know I’m making you feel good.”

“Yeah, our pretty plaything. Cum for Aizetsu and let me taste it. You can squirt, right?” His tongue swirled on your clit, teasing it with the tip as the blue-eyed clone thrust into you so deeply that your body jerked, hand tightening around Sekido’s cock.

“Fucking shit, bitch.” Sekido cursed, the tip drooling with pre as he felt his balls draw up, the telltale sign that he was about to cum. He fucked your fist faster, the slick sounds of it echoing in his ear. Sekido lets out another grunt before he spilt his seed, coating the top of your fist with it. “Making me cum like that...you’re such a whore...” he panted.

Aizetsu bounced you on his cock, determined to make you cum – to make you squirt so hard you passed out from the pleasure. His fangs grazed over the shell of your ear before he stuck his tongue in your ear as he felt you tighten up on his length. “Just let go and be our plaything.” He whispered.

Your back arched like a cat as you felt your thighs tremble, clit throbbing on Karaku's greedy tongue. Your chest heaved as your body convulsed, cumming hard, squirting – the hot clear liquid drenching Karaku’s face and dripping down Aizetsu’s thighs.

“Good fucking girl.” The green-eyed clone praised after he swallowed what he was able to catch on his tongue.

Aizetsu let out a whine as he trailed his tongue down the length of your neck before biting down gently on your pulse point. His thrust sped up until he was pounding into your soaked pussy. “Oh fuck. Oh shit...” He whimpered, tongue lapping at your pulse as he felt his cock twitching. He wasn’t to last much longer. “Gonna cum. Gonna cream this pussy. Say that’s what you want. Please tell me you want my cum.”

In your hazy fucked out mind, anything he said sounded heavenly. You mewled out weakly, “Want your cum. Give it to me.”

No sooner than those words left your throat, Aizetsu gave you a few more deep, cervix kissing thrusts before his hot cum spilled over inside your needy cunt. “Take it. Take it all.” He whined out as he fucked it deeper into you. “You’re our plaything now.”

Even you had to agree, You’ve become the plaything of the Upper Moon 4, Hantengu – no, the four clones, Sekido, Urogi, Karaku, and Aizetsu.

©️2022-23 nymphoheretic - I do not give permission to copy, edit, alter, or distribute my work. Do not adverse on tiktok. Do not repost on any other platform.

#nymphomanic♡ #kny smut #kny karaku #kny aizetsu #kny urogi #kny sekido #demon slayer smut #demon slayer x you #demon slayer x y/n #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #kny x you #karaku x reader #urogi x reader #sekido x reader #aizetsu x reader #kny hantengu #hantengu x reader #hantengu clones

[nevess]

[ i love thee with a love that shall not die, till the sun grows cold and the stars grow old. ] - William Shakespeare

🌱… description: You and Anakin are stargazing and he can’t stop looking at your beautiful face.

🍵 … warnings: none, more Anakin fluff :p

🧳 … character/s: Anakin Skywalker x Reader

☕️ … word count: 760 words ; | date: October 3rd, 2023

🗞️ back to the main menu

a/n: still just making anakin x reader fluff cuz tumblr needs it. :) Hope you enjoy it! <3 Disclaimer!!! i didn’t read it after finishing, so i apologize for any typos :p In other news, im looking for beta readerssss here's the post!

The moon hung low on the horizon, casting a silvery glow across the quiet hilltop. Anakin Skywalker and you had returned from your respective missions, weary from the battles and conflicts that seemed to define the Clone Wars. Tonight, you both sought solace in the serenity of the night sky.

Laying on a blanket beneath a tapestry of stars, you gazed up at the twinkling constellations, captivated by the beauty of the cosmos. The galaxy seemed vast and endless, a stark contrast to the turmoil you faced on a daily basis.

Anakin's eyes, however, weren't on the stars above; they were fixed on you. He watched you in awe, his heart swelling with a deep, unspoken love. Your profile was illuminated by the soft moonlight, casting a gentle glow on your features, and in that moment, you were the most beautiful thing in the universe to him.

Lost in his thoughts, he finally broke the silence, his voice soft and filled with admiration. "You know, Y/N, I've seen countless stars in my lifetime, but none shine as brightly as you do."

You turned your head to meet his gaze, your eyes locking with his intense blue ones. His words caught you off guard, and a gentle blush colored your cheeks. "Anakin," you replied, your voice tender, "you have a way of making every moment feel extraordinary."

He reached out and gently traced a finger along your cheek, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "I can't help it," he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours. "You're the most incredible thing I've ever known."

Your heart swelled with emotion at his words, and you couldn't help but smile. Anakin's charm and intensity had always drawn you in, and tonight, beneath the starlit canvas of the galaxy, you felt a deep connection that transcended words.

As the night wore on, the two of you shared stories of your missions and the challenges you faced, finding solace in each other's understanding and support. Anakin's laughter echoed through the quiet hillside as he recounted a particularly amusing encounter with a droid army, and you couldn't help but join in.

The moments of levity were precious, a reminder that despite the weight of their responsibilities as Jedi and soldiers, you were still able to find joy in each other's company. Under the vast expanse of the night sky, it felt like the galaxy had granted you a brief respite from its turmoil.

As the hours passed, Anakin's gaze never wavered from you. He admired the way your eyes lit up with enthusiasm when you spoke about your passion for diplomacy and negotiation, and how your determination shone through when discussing your duties as a Jedi. To him, you were a beacon of hope and inspiration, a force of nature he couldn't resist and wasn’t going to.

At some point, you both lay down, side by side, your fingers intertwined as you continued to stargaze. The conversation gave way to comfortable silence, a shared appreciation for the quietude of the night.

Anakin broke the silence once more, his voice a soft whisper. "Y/N, I know we face so much uncertainty and danger every day, but the terrible agony im in when you are not near goes away as soon as my eyes see you. In the horrors of what we may or may not do in batter… when i’m with you anything is possible. I love you."

You turned to him, your eyes locking onto his, and the world seemed to fade away. You were mesmerized for his way with words, and how he would always know how to make you feel loved and appreciated. "Anakin," you replied as you look at him with all the love in the world, your voice filled with sincerity, "I love you too, more than words can express." You smiled as your thoughts gathered around one very specific… You can’t believe you are so lucky as to have him as a partner.

In that moment, beneath the starry tapestry of the universe, your love felt like a force of its own, unyielding and eternal. Together, you found strength, love, and hope under the stars, and for as long as you gazed upon them, you knew that no matter the challenges ahead, you would face them together.

© Nevess 2023. My original posts are not allowed to be edited, translated and/or re-uploaded on another account or platform without my permission, nevertheless, re-blogs are accepted and very appreciated.

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[cactuswaterscactusfields]

How Many Moments Are In Forever?

I went to Galaxy’s Edge at DisneyWorld recently and got to meet Vader, and he was so scary and intimidating that I just had to put it down into words. But also spice because of Helmets. This is kind of a continuation of Him., but it’s not reliant on Him., so you don’t need to read it to read this. Also, Anakin’s face doesn’t get Mustafar’d, but he wears the helmet to help him breathe, just so that the reader recognizes him. Bless his heart.

OR

After the Chancellor commanded the clones to execute the Jedi, your master, Anakin, sent you away in an escape pod, bound for Mustafar. He told you he’d come to you, but when you witness him and Obi-Wan duking it out, you’re forced to escape. Will this new Lord Vader show you mercy? Or will he break his promise to you and execute you like the younglings?

Warnings: Angst, Smut, trauma, Order 66, peril, a short bit of a happy ending. Is Anakin still having a face/hair canon compliant? I don’t know. No beta we die like the younglings. 

crossposted here on ao3 All characters depicted are 18+.

So sorry it took me so long to get out. Hope you guys enjoy, and once again thank you to Cilantro and Rio for peer pressuring me into finishing it.

There’s blood on your skin, ashes on your hands, your forehead, staining your vision and future. Where is he? He said he’d be here. He’s never lied to you before. He’s always been there. He sent you to this hell, this planet, and told you you’d be safe there. Just wait for me , he whispered into your ear, placing a warm kiss on your lips.

You can still feel it. His soft, chapped, gunsmoke lips, carrying the weight of the world, pressing against yours, worried, gentle, loving. He had looked down at you with those ocean-blue eyes, filled with worry, and gently buckled the strap of your seat, tight around your torso. You had stared at him, silently begging him not to send you away, but he stepped back and shook his head, smoke rising from the temple behind him. 

Your head hurts, so, so badly. It’s throbbing, sharp, like a part of you has been ripped out and stomped on. What is this feeling? Where is he? Where is your master? Maybe it’d be best if you just slept, if you just went away, if you just…

~

Two black durasteel boots step over the forgotten, discarded plates of a destroyed door. Soldiers without names in white armor step aside, as the black fluttering cape brushes past their bowed heads. Those in his wake look up, seeing shining black plates in place of eyes, a mouthpiece sounding out the last song they'll ever hear--a song of pain, of death, of violence, of labored breathing, and ashen lungs. You can’t tell who it is. Are you one of his victims? One of his soldiers? You’re staring up at him, impossibly tall, impossibly strong. You can sense his signature, but it feels..wrong. Artificial, like someone took a once healthy signature and slashed and cut and slashed and cut until it was nothing but ribbons, and then stitched and stapled it together, a horrific chimeral amalgamation of what it was.

He turns to look at you, those eye plates staring right into your soul, and you know who it is, oh maker, what happened to him? He raises that scarlet blade, humming with energy, and raises it to slice at you, the red glinting off his helmet, you can see his eyes, yellow and red, oh maker he’s swinging, so quickly, so painfully, and—

~

You snap awake, the molten and ashen air greeting your abused throat and lungs. How long were you asleep? How long were you unconscious, unaware of where he could be? Is he here? Did he leave you? Is he gone? Who was that man, with the massive scarlet blade, why did he feel like your master? What happened to him? Where is Anakin?

You finally look around at your surroundings, the landing space having been cleared due to the powerful downward-facing thrusters of your ship. There are what look like lava falls flowing down distant spires and mountains of charred rock, and the black sand on the lava bank next to you is being lapped at gently by a flowing molten river. The atmosphere here is thick, angry, with..you can feel it in the air, burning hatred and sulfuric power, as if darkness has festered in this place for millennia, for longer than you could imagine. 

Mustafar.

You’ve heard of this little moon, once lush and vibrant, like Naboo or Alderaan, but the Sith (or something, Master Kenobi wouldn’t tell you when you inquired further) corrupted it, leaving it charred and hellish. 

You can see glowing blue blades in the distance, dancing across a thin beam of metal in front of massive waterfalls, and you immediately know from that aggression who it is. 

Ani.

You stand quickly, before watching as he leaps toward the shore of a riverbank, and the other blue blade slices up, impacting and cutting through his legs—

You have to go. You have to go. Something is very wrong and you need to leave right now. You can’t tell what it is, can’t tell who is forcing you to leave, can’t tell if the force or your own gut is telling you, but you need to escape right knifing now . You smash your hands into the buttons, desperately trying to get the small ship to activate, and it slowly lifts into the air as the overhead cover closes. You feel the engines roar as it begins to send power to the hyperdrive, and you’re pushed back, further, further, and you leap. The bright whistling lights of the stars racing past greet your eyes, and then it hits you, like a ton of bricks.

Maker, he’s dead. And you left him to die. You didn’t save him. 

What have you done?

When he needed you most, you left him. This man who has given you everything, gave you a home, gave you knowledge and instinct and love and pleasure, gave you happiness and a place to stay when you had nowhere else to go, the man who saved your life from certain death, was left to die on a shore of fire and lava by the woman who should have loved him more than anyone else.

Wait.

That vision, that dream you had. What did it mean? What could it possibly have meant? That man, maker you hope was a man, felt so much like him, so much like the one you love, does that mean he survives? You don’t know. You hope so, but that red blade…

Does Anakin become a Sith?

~

The drunk man crashes down next to you, thrown by his partner. You look over at him, taking another sip of the disgusting pisswater they have the nerve call spotchka. At least it’s liquid. You take a deep breath, before looking back at the current bar fight going on over, what you’re pretty sure, was a game of sabacc gone wrong. Your mind wanders back to that day on Mustafar, the last time you saw him. How did you even find yourself here, this shithole known as Tatooine, a worker in a bar, cleaning after hours and giving your…unique clientele their drinks. At least it’s out of the way.

The empire has been hunting Jedi, with Darth Vader at its helm, and you’re at the top of the list of bounties they’ve got. You don’t even know how many credits you’d fetch now, but it’s got to be enough to buy a waterfront property on Naboo and never have to worry about working again.

Not that anyone has the balls to take on a former Jedi. You’re fully aware of what your people can do, and bounty hunters usually leave the Jedi hunting to inquisitors. Sometimes you catch eyes, though. Through the crowd, brown-robed men with vibrant blue eyes that you swear you’ve seen before, with familiar tired lines and sandy brown beards, before they disappear through the crowd. It’s better not to gather. Better to stay separate, silent, and alone. If you’re caught, you at least won’t know the location of any other Jedi. 

Almost as if on cue, you can hear the stomping of stormtrooper boots, as they flood in to break up the fight. Your hand immediately tenses to your side, before lowering. Of course, your lightsaber is hidden. You don’t have it out anymore. It’s still on you, but if someone were to see it, you’d be arrested and sent to… indoctrination before you could even blink. They pull the two men who started it apart, both soaked in their and the other’s blood, and other patrons immediately back up to their seats, avoiding the troopers. Everyone here has bad blood with the empire. It’s part of living here, in the outer rim, staying well away from their gaze.

Something’s wrong. Of course, it is. Your mind immediately goes to finding an escape route, finding some way to get out of here, but the black fluttering of capes freezes your train of thought. You’ve done this before, you can do this, you can get out of here. It’s just like the last few times, you’ll be able to get out, right? You’ve smelled this stench before, this stench of death, of hate, of malice, of eradicating the only life you ever knew.

Inquisitors. Looking for you. You step back from the bar, and their heads jerk toward you, quickly vaulting over the counter, spilling your spotchka. You narrowly duck under their arms, before slamming the back door of the bar open. You dodge around stacks of supplies and long-expired bills and spotchka, dodging around your now very confused boss, and you finally see it, the exit door, the door to freedom, the door that will let you escape from them, and you shove it open—

Black, dark black boots. A red and black cape, with a glinting dark helmet blinding you in the desert sun. Three inquisitors? You’re important. You draw your blade, its color gleaming off their armor, and you slash at them in a wide circle, blasting them back with a quick wave of your hand, before shoving past the one in the doorway, praying you stunned him, praying to the maker you successfully escape—

A hand wraps around your tunic, yanking you back, and a needle jams itself into your stomach. A strong, black leather glove holds you tight, pulling you back, and pushing you down, further, further, until you’re crushed against the ground, like a stone under thousands of tons of pressure at the core of some far-off planet.

As your vision fades, you see the helmets glinting down at you, dangerous, nightmare incarnate. Shouting around you becomes muddled, indistinguishable, a hundred or a thousand voices speaking, screaming, yelling, it’s all the same, what are they saying…? Everything’s fading, you can’t see, can’t think…

Kriff.

~

His hand wraps tight around your throat, pulling you back into him, his strong, sweaty, muscular chest pressing itself into your shoulder blades. He pulls you back further, panting hot breath against your ear, and he slams himself deep into you. How long have you been at this? How impossibly long have you been like this, being ruined by your–

Your mind freezes as his free hand travels from somewhere near your head, gripping the sheets, down your body, down, further, further, before gently touching your nub and rubbing sweet, sweet, nuclear circles into it, freezing your mind every time he slams his cock into you again and again and again.

His stamina is infinite. How many times have you already come? How many times has he brought you over the edge of that divine cliff, tossed you off, and he hasn’t leapt once? Your wandering mind rips back to reality once again as he pounds once, twice, three times, you’re so close, running, sprinting, a blur of light against an impossible sky, before you take that olympic leap.

You’re frozen. His hands, paused, his cock, an immovable force against an unstoppable orgasm. And then he–

~

You’re thrown from your dreams as your head collides with the metal plating of what your drug-addled brain assumes is a cell, and you’re left alone for a moment. You were just in his arms, just with him, just curled soft and warm underneath him, protected, why are you here? 

Where are you? How long were you asleep? Why..why is there so much noise? It hurts your ears, so loud, so sudden, so angry, like metal ripping and tearing and cracking and shattering, breaking as if the world is made of glass and your ears are hammers. From the indiscernible noise, you can almost hear alarms, something akin to an emergency..why is there an emergency? It’s shaking your skull, shattering your bones, making your brain feel too big for your skull, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, maker it hurts,

And it stops.

Silent. You can hear nothing except his voice. His. Voice.

It’s Him.

Standing in front of you, staring down at you, his black durasteel eyes reflecting hell on earth, reflecting a person you don’t recognize, is that you? How could that be you? When were you covered in blood? When did you have such scars, such exhaustion painting circles under your eyes, thinning your cheeks, hollowing your sockets? What have you become?

“....Padawan.”

He was thinking the same thing. The world is frozen around you, and for once, nothing else matters. Nothing except him. He runs his black-gloved thumb across your cheek, but it’s cold. Artificial. Alone. Where did the warmth go that he had? Where is the comforting star within your void of life?

Where did the man who would do anything for you go?

“...Ani?” Your voice sounds hollow, far away, like you’re hearing it through a window.

Awful, artificial breathing greets your ears. Plastic, metal, durasteel, and bacta tubes scrape across your eardrums, like nails on the chalkboard of your soul. He stares down at you, his breath almost catching in his throat. Does he even have a throat anymore? Is he the man you fell for, the man you adore?

He lowers his hand slowly, before tilting his head and murmuring a short, simple command in a voice you’ve never known yet always loved.

“Follow.” And with a whisk of a cape, he’s walking away, leather boots thumping against the metal grate flooring. You quickly stand to follow him, and stormtroopers flank you on either side, their rifles held to attack at any moment, to gun you down like the thousands of innocents they’ve killed.

You follow your former lover down hallway after hallway, a maze of industrial lights and alarms and troopers sprinting past as the floor, walls, and ceiling quietly shake. You try to run to catch up with him, but his strides are so impossibly long, he’s so impossibly tall, that you’re cursed to inevitably follow behind him, never able to get to him. Just like Mustafar.

He finally turns what feels like the tenth corner, and you see a massive hangar with ships, pods, and craft of all kinds whirring about like some kind of dock hell. He walks over to a sleek, black ship, where troopers in strange black durasteel uniforms salute quickly, and climbs up the ramp. You lower your head as a rifle presses into your back, and a trooper’s voice sounds out behind you. 

“Follow Lord Vader.”

Lord Vader? Is that what they call him? Is that what he calls himself? Is that who he has become? Some…lord of evil? Some lord of darkness, like a Sith? You’ve never heard of anyone besides the most powerful Sith being called Lords, is he that twisted, that corrupted?

Your mind snaps to reality as your legs quickly hurry up the ramp, and it closes once you’ve made your way into the small ship. There’s a simple cot against the wall, a few simple crates with various articles of clothing, and then there’s Him. Leaning against one of two cockpit chairs, he stands there staring at you, before reaching up towards that horrible, horrible black helmet, and pulling.

Anakin.

His fluffy blonde hair, now with a few silver streaks through it, is slightly pressed to his forehead above two… yellow…? eyes, his familiar scar across his eye drowned out by the massive burn across his cheek. Dark circles line his undereyes and his face..it’s so, so tired, so weary…

“I..thought you left me..I…” You stammer, the correct words hiding from you like flitting ghosts in a swirl of blazing, burning fire. How is he here? How is he alive? He sets the helmet down on the seat behind him, before stepping toward you, striding closer, closer, he’s so big, so intimidating, so tall, you step back, further, further, your back is pressed against the wall, he’s so close, right up against you, and…

He kisses you. But to say that would be disrespectful to the love, to the passion you feel. His lips press against yours, like two halves of a whole finally reuniting and sealing, bonding together as if telling each other that they will never, never separate again. His hands wrap around your face, holding you, his thumb rubbing your cheek, and you can’t help but wrap your arms around him, so small against him. He presses further against you, one hand sliding down to your shoulder and pulling your neckline down, and his lips trail slowly down your neck, before he latches onto the muscle, and he bites.

You squeak in pain as he removes the hand on your face and begins to shed his armor, dropping plate after plate after durasteel plate onto the ground with clangs. He’s left in nothing but a tank top and simple cloth pants, and the full extent of the pain he went through is revealed, missing both arms and both legs up to the thighs. You push him back for a moment, and he stares down at you, silently questioning.

“What happened?” Your eyes fill with tears as you scan the damage, gently running your hand along the seam of his larger prosthetic arm. You always knew he was missing one hand, but never his full arm. Never..this. Maker, how much can this cruel universe take, and take, and take, and take, and expect him to live as he has been?

What kind of life is this, to live for nothing at all?

“....I’m not living for nothing, padawan. I have you.” He gently takes your chin, letting out a small cough, and tilts it up to face him, the skin around his eyes crinkling slightly as he smiles softly. Right, he can do that. He can read your mind. You smile weakly up at him and–

You’re thrown into each other as the ship rocks violently, and more alarms blare outside as you’re reminded of the predicament you’re in. Immediately, he focuses while holding his arm out and your fall is slowed down as you land on his chest. He stands quickly, his arm holding you tight against his chest, and he takes your face in his hands again, coughing again harder.

“Hold onto something.”

He turns to the cockpit and quickly throws himself into the pilot seat, before flipping switches and levers and knobs as if he’s done this a thousand times before. You quickly hurry to the front of the ship, sitting down in the other seat and strapping yourself in, and his hand gently lands on your thigh, holding you as he presses the throttle forward, the ship lifting slowly before leaning and soaring out of the collapsing imperial star destroyer. He presses a few more buttons, and the ship shudders slightly before launching into hyperspace.

“Aren’t you a servant of the emperor?” Your voice wobbles slightly, and he sighs softly.

“I’m done. With it. With everything, padawan.” He coughs, his shoulders shaking slightly, and he groans in slight pain before looking over at you. 

“The emperor would have you killed or tortured. I’m not letting him ever get to you again.” He says your name, soft, warm, whispered through a broken man’s voice, whispered through years of suffering and longing, loneliness and pain. He smiles weakly, and gets up slowly, holding his hand out as the buckles of your seatbelt undo themselves.

“I have missed you, so, so dearly. Ever since that day.” You stand slowly as he speaks, and he looks around.

“And I have not forgotten what we started earlier.” His nostrils flare with desire, before he pushes you back, back, back, until you’re against the ship wall once again, and he growls as he clenches his fist into your tunic, before pulling his hand back and tearing. He looks down at your bare chest with adoration, before grabbing you by the throat and throwing you down onto the cot, bouncing slightly as he lifts his own shirt off, revealing burn after burn after burn across his still well-muscled chest, and he walks toward you.

Your whole life, you’ve felt at least somewhat strong. You may not be the biggest, the tallest, or the strongest, but you’ve been capable. You’ve never felt true fear for your life…until now. As this predator, this chosen one, this Sith draws closer, you feel like a dewback being stared down by a massive Krayt Dragon, with rabid hunger and malice in its eyes. He smiles that familiar fanged smile, before leaping onto you, and you can’t help but let out a squeak as he grabs and squeezes everything he can get his hands on.

He grinds against your still-covered core, and his hand finds your waistband before pulling and pulling until you’re bare before him, an art piece before a destroyer.

He leans back for a moment to admire you, before climbing down slowly, staring up at you as he comes closer, closer, closer, kissing his way down your stomach, running his hands along your soft inner thigh, and he stares at your entrance before leaning down and kissing your clit. 

Maker, it’s like you’re being touched by a god, like your very self is being held by divinity. He begins to rub sweet, sweet, beautiful tight little circles into your nub with his tongue, and his fingers trail along your inner thigh before finding your entrance and pressing.

Oh maker he’s thick, stretching you out so perfectly that you can’t help but cry out and cover his fingers with your sticky sweet nectar. He begins to slowly rub into your core, his fingers fluttering gently, and you let out gorgeous little whimpers, whining as he kisses your clit again, and again, pulling back for a moment as his fingers begin to speed up.

You haven’t felt this good in years. You never could find it in yourself to try to pleasure yourself, your mind too preoccupied with thoughts of stress, fear, worry, losing the tight grip you have on your force signature to remain undetected, the pain of losing the people you love and grew up with, and the pain of not being able to find Ani.

But here, but now, his fingers pressing further, further into you, pressing against the spot that makes you squeal, you’re finding it so hard to think. 

Maker, he’s so big, too big, you’re practically soaking his fingers, you can feel the band begin to tighten as he licks, and licks, and licks, tighter, tighter, tighter, tighter, so much impossibly tighter, the pressure building,

He stops, pulling his fingers back. Silent. Empty. Empty. Empty. His face pulled back from you. It’s agony, pure, unfiltered, suffering, your body desperately clenching around emptiness, searching for the pleasure it had, searching for the beautiful full feeling, and as he stares down at you, that malicious smile so carved into his face, you can’t help but cry slightly, welling salty tears filling your eyes.

“Oh, don’t cry, beautiful. I’m not done with you yet.” He crawls over you, his massive chest dwarfing your body, and he plants his elbow above your head before pressing his mouth against yours, so warm and soft and wet and inviting, with the softest hint of salt on his tongue.

He reaches down with his free hand and slowly unzips his pants, before pulling his cock out, and the sight of it just about makes you cry. It’s so big..so perfect, so adored, so… and he pushes.

Maker, if you thought his fingers were big, this is going to break you in half. He presses further, stretching your tight walls apart, before his cock kisses your core gently, and you gasp softly, grasping onto his hand as your chest begins to heave up and down. He pulls back out slowly, his cock rubbing against the soft walls of your center, and then he slams.

Maker, it’s like you’re being smashed by a jackhammer. He pulls and pushes and pulls and pushes, the most beautiful grunts dropping from his breath like flower petals, and you can’t help but sob his name like it’s a prayer like it’s the only word you’ve ever known. He grasps the sheet above your head, growling, and continues slamming himself into you, your bodies rubbing against each other like beautiful friction defining the universe. He forces your mouth open with his tongue, fighting yours for control over your very soul .

Maker, how is he speeding up? How is he so strong, so good, so fast, so hard, the pressure is building like explosions you can hear noise, whose voice is that, is that you? You can’t even tell, you’re so close to that explosion, the pressure is so bright, so tight, so fiery, you’re so overwhelmed, you’re so close, and then it snaps.

You’re like a star, with planets circling you, and you supernova. An explosion sending out across the universe, your force signature flaring bright with a rainbow of colors you couldn’t hope to comprehend, could never hope to understand. Wave after wave after wave after perfect, indescribable wave rush through you like oceans upon oceans upon oceans of desire, your mind’s so gone it’s like it was never there in the first place, you couldn’t even give your name if you tried. There’s a ringing in your ears, your fingers feel so foreign, so tight, they feel androidish. 

He’s still pounding, still going in and out and in and out, you can hear words like Padawan and Love, and without knowing what they mean, you know that you’re loved, for the first time in so, so damn long. He’s sliding in and out with far more ease than before, like your body is expecting, needing him and his warmth.

Padawan, I’m close. Is that his voice, is he speaking? He’s so fast, so deep, so perfectly inside you, so perfectly yours, that the answers to the questions never mattered in the first place.

He jerks a few more times, shaking, and from somewhere far away, you can feel something warm, something hot, something blazing like fiery liquid fill you. He slowly pulls out, smiling, and flops down next to you, panting slightly, and he coughs again. He slowly throws his arms around you, lazy and exhausted, and pulls you tight against him, your legs still numb, core still shaking. How many seconds are in eternity? How many moments measure forever? You don’t know, you’ve never known, you could never know in the first place. But whatever the answer is, you’d be willing to spend the rest of your feeble little life with him, seeing him, knowing him, loving him. Maker, you missed his face, his voice, his smile, everything about you. He watches you, those unfamiliar yellow eyes boring into yours, and for a moment, it’s like there’s streaks of blue, blazoned deep into them, like cracks in a dam about to break open.

“I missed you, Padawan.” He gently runs his thumb along your cheek, the mechanics of the arm creaking and clicking.

“I know.”

#fanfiction #star wars #anakin skywalker smut #anakin fanfiction #anakin x reader #anakin smut #anakin skywalker #star wars anakin #smut #darth vader #vader smut

[theharrowing]

An Ghealach

Field Linguist Jimin Park travels to a remote island called An Ghealach off the coast of Ireland to research and document an endangered language, just in time for the community’s Beltane festivities. What he encounters is both horrifying and mesmerizing beyond his wildest dreams.

🌑 Jimin x Female Reader 🌒 word count: 9k 🌓 speculative horror, gore, major character death, dub con, smut, nsfw, 21+ 🌔 warnings: 🕊 dead dove! creepy folk horror themes (shapeshifting, human sacrifice), unable to tell dreams from reality, gore (mention of entrails, mention of bleeding someone dry, cutting palm and drinking/smearing blood), dubious consent (use of magic to put into a trance & coerce), angst, infidelity (mention of an engagement), smut (voyeurism & exhibitionism, oral & vaginal sex, a bit of ass eating, rough sex, holding of throat, blood licking, a little biting, forest sex, a need to be cum inside of), nickname "pet", major character cloning & off-screen death. 🌕 note: hello, and welcome to my fun little Beltane horror fic! appearance of reader in this fic shifts, and is therefore described. sometimes she has pale skin, other times dark, purposefully left vague aside from hair and occasionally eye detail. this story is a bit rushed because of yoongi concert week and final exams happening in the same month; i had a lot of ideas, but the time just kept creeping up and up and up, and here we are, at the end of May!

🌖 i also made a lot of shit up in terms of the magic, left a lot of shit vague, and did not worry much about whether things make any sense, so...go into this with a grain of salt; this is not meant to reflect any real Beltane rites or rituals, even if certain things (like the maypole) sound familiar. it is also not meant to depict a real place or a real dialect of a language. the Gaelic words are meant to feel wrong and strange because this place is wrong and strange. (a friend of mine who is Irish & a linguist helped me with the words; i promise you, the intent is to feel wrong.) enjoy!

🌗 mc goes by the name Rí; Jimin's pov appears in italic paragraphs

🌘 written for A Spring Offering Collab! check out the other works! 🌑 beta read by @neoneunnajimin 🌒posted may. 2023 | read on ao3

Cross his heart, hope to die Hang his entrails, bleed him dry

He is Here. He is here. Heard, have you? He is here.

The women of the island chirp and coo at one another, heads tilted inward, as if sharing a profound secret. Their voices are low but lilted with excitement, and the language in which they whisper is old – nearly extinct. 

Your footfalls crunch through grass that has hardly seen rain – unseasonably dry, despite the air holding onto a thick, shrouding dampness. Soon, the sun will stay risen for more than eight hours, and, if this summer is bountiful, the clouds will open up and shower your island with abundance. 

Seen the man, have you? They whisper, unused to men from outside the confines of the island; unused to skin darker than porcelain. No outsider has stepped foot permanently on this land since your father had, all those years ago; only mysterious strangers who last as long as the holiday allows. 

Strange, his name is. They whisper. And the sun, his skin shines with deep hints of its rays. 

"Girls," you call in a tongue that whisps through your lips, wind fluttering between delicate petals, ancient. "Our manners, let us not forget."

"Our manners, Rí," the women respond in a chorus, pulling their expressions straight, only to begin giggling the moment they think you are no longer listening. 

Bright orange hair falls in tight curls to your shoulders, which are exposed to the sunlight. You wear a white long-sleeve chemise that rests mid-bicep and is tied loosely in the front over perky cleavage. Your emerald green bodice sits under-breast and opens to a long emerald skirt that falls to your bare feet over a hoop skirt made of layers of cloth. 

Your girls are dressed much more simply in white chemise dresses and underpants. Some wear modest green or burgundy bodice dresses, and some wear plain white or black cloth shoes. 

The propellers on the white aquatic plane whirr as you approach, and you hear two male voices speaking loudly over its engine. One man, dressed head-to-toe in a white pilot uniform, docks with the help of four of your women, and he exits the small aircraft. 

After a pause, another man appears wearing a tan blazer over a white tee that is tucked into fitted blue jeans, with a black leather belt and black boots. Around his neck, a white kerchief is tied, and his hair is coiffed delicately off his forehead, casting a beautiful wave of silvery-blond that hardly blows in the winds coming from the sea. He looks as if he is dressed for a weekend getaway to somewhere far more exotic than here, and you find it absolutely adorable. He is more petit than you anticipated – average height and slender – but what stands out the most is the man's face. 

Even from this distance, the man is breathtaking. His full lips pout as he straightens himself out, and he seems surprised and apologetic when the girls begin to assist with his things, pulling suitcases from the plane. 

At his shocked expression and attempts to communicate with precious creatures who do not speak a common tongue, you make your way forward, holding your many skirts in hand so your feet do not trip. As soon as you approach and begin to shout to the girls to be careful, the man's eyes lift, lips part, and you watch the moment he notices you, deeply breathing in and holding it while you speak. 

"Girls, girls," you call in the ancient tongue, "handle gently."

As his things are brought to the pier, the man begins to organize them. Everything is on wheels, and he must deem a certain suitcase more important than the others, taking it by its extending handle and dragging it to dry land first. There is a short set of steps between the path and the pier, and you walk down and reach a hand out to offer help. 

"Thank you," the man mutters, seemingly uncertain whether you are one of the many who do not speak English. 

"You must be Jimin Park," you say, reaching for the handle and watching as recognition and relief paint his pretty features. 

Up close, Jimin is a thing out of fairytales. Wide, dark eyes glance curiously at the landscape, and each curve of his face is soft and delicate, despite his profile being sharp lines. An anomaly of beauty, carved with careful hands. 

Jimin guesses at your name and you nod, flashing a sweet, welcoming smile – you had been the one corresponding with him before his arrival. He must relax, because as you begin to tug for his suitcase to lift it up the three short wooden steps, his hold loosens, and he eventually allows you to take it, only letting his gaze linger a moment before he turns to grab more of his things. 

You help him with his belongings – four black cases in total – and each of you take two to wheel down the dirt path past the open field, along the edge of the woods that peeks out into the village, to the inn that sits ahead, to the left. Although your home is in the woods, you have prepared a room in the inn, sharing a wall with Jimin.

The village is quaint. There are a few homes at the far end of the walk, along a stretch of foothills. A town hall rests between the homes and the inn, and there is a small store room holding onto all imported wares, farmed goods, and hunted items. To the right is all forest until the cliffs open up to the vast ocean, and on the other side of the wood, village elders live out their days, never minding what you and girls do on this side, so long as their bellies stay full and hearths stay ablaze. 

"Have you lived here your entire life?" Jimin asks slowly, annunciating each word with precision. There is a hint of his own accent giving the English a very pretty lilt. 

"Nearly," you respond, eyes slowly wandering from the inn, sweeping the small hints of village that come into view, landing on the forest. "My parents arrived when I was little, but my mother was born here. The island is in my blood."

"And you are the only person here who speaks English?" Jimin asks, voice a bit shaky and hesitant.

As you turn to gauge his expression, you find hints of anxiety. You wonder if Jimin is not the kind of person who likes to seek the help of others; if, perhaps, you will have to be assertive in offering assistance with everything he may need. 

"I am," you respond with a smile, "which means you and I are going to become quite well acquainted, Jimin Park."

Over dinner on the first night, Jimin opens up about growing up in South Korea and attending university both at home, and in the United States. As girls come to fill your plates with more cured meats, he notices that they call you Rí. 

Jimin is an inquisitive fellow, whose pretty dark eyes are wide and curious – and somewhat glossy after two cups of honey wine – and you smile with feigned shyness, nodding your head demurely when he asks you about the nickname. 

"It means king," you tell him with a grin.

"Ah," Jimin responds with a growing smile of his own. "So are you their king?"

With a chuckle, you shrug and say, "I suppose I am. We have elders but they live on another part of the island. I'm the one who takes care of the girls."

"And the hunting and farming?" Jimin asks. 

"Much of our bounty is from the autumn equinox," you admit shyly, vaguely. "We had an abundant winter."

"Wow," Jimin responds curiously. "Good weather last year?"

It was luck that two cops came snooping around the island just before Samhain; their blood was the perfect offering to the old gods. With their entrails strung up, dangling from the trees, and slowly drip-draining into the grass below, the skies shined favorably through the cold season, and wild animals practically skittered and galloped happily into your traps. 

"Yes," you respond simply, smiling fondly at the memory of the two transmuted squirrels who were sent home in the men's stead with nothing to report on but normal goings-on, on the island. 

Magic of that caliber works best on the holidays, when the passages are open and the power from the other side covers your island like a rich fog, sparking it to life with intrinsic energy. A shame you used that power to create two men of the law, but the last thing your little homestead needs is more blue-capped guards snooping around for their missing men. 

With the perfect specimen for this year's festival sitting beside you, your excitement shimmers, vibrating under your skin and making the air around you feel charged. You had hoped that, being as young as he is, you would be sent someone without a spouse, making it easier to fall under your spell – buying you a little time before having to clone the poor guy and send him back. 

A shame that this season's sacrifice not only comes with a gold engagement band around his finger, but is so dreadfully pretty that you almost lament the thought of watching the light drain from his eyes. 

But the land is hungry, and feed, she must.

“Cross his heart, hope to die. Hang his entrails…will he have pretty entrails, do you think?” you sing-song, lifting a handsome red squirrel in both hands, holding it eye-level to inspect. It had come to your window at the stroke of midnight, cheery and pliant. 

An offering from the land. 

A host. 

“What a shame I can’t just keep him for myself,” you muse, considering the fact that you were able to transmute two men before. “Perhaps I will have to make a second clone, this time. Can you bring me a friend?”

The sound of thumping is what wakes Jimin up. At first, he thinks it may be a tree branch tap, tap, tapping against the window. But as sleep falls away to wakefulness, he realizes the sound must be coming from the other side of the wall. 

Your wall.

Falling asleep was difficult, in the first place. Something about the island, and especially the inn, feels incredibly ominous, like there is a presence looming just out of the peripheral, never fully seen. And the scent that you carry – spiced cloves and fresh bouquet of wildflowers – lingered in the air, filling his head with thoughts of you. 

Now, as he blinks through the darkness, he wonders if he had slept a wink, at all. 

Jimin rolls over, attempting to ignore the sounds in favor of getting more sleep, noticing in his brief moment of wakefulness that it is still pitch black outside. But then he hears it…humming…low and inviting, causing all the little hairs on his arms to stand at attention. 

Somewhat mindlessly, Jimin pushes the thick quilted blanket away and climbs out of bed, heavy-lidded and barely aware of his surroundings in the mostly-empty room. Golden lantern light glows in through the window, allowing him to see ahead of him just enough to make a clear path toward the sound.

In his dreamy haze, Jimin imagines voices whispering – beckoning him forward. Come to me, they say, tangling and slipping over one another, mostly incomprehensible flits of lips, teeth, and tongue, spoken too softly to truly be fully heard. 

Jimin places his hands against the wall, presses his ear against the wood, and listens. The humming continues, muffled delicately by the layers that separate it from him. Is it Rí, he wonders.

As he continues to listen, his eyelids flutter closed. The thumping sound is rhythmic and soft, and the humming has shifted into something more sensual. Moaning, perhaps? Whimpering, even? He feels entranced by it and presses harder against the wall, feeling the cool wood against his cheek gradually heat, until his breath huffs out sticky-warm against it.

Come to me, Jimin, he is certain he hears in a voice that can only be yours. Don't be shy.

He feels drunk and loose-limbed, rubbery and pliant, and he sways his hips to the inviting song, dragging his blunt fingernails over the wall. The humming – the moaning – it intensifies, drawing his breath ragged, forcing small sounds of his own to come falling past his lips. His body feels electric – charged with a current that runs ultraviolet through his bloodstream, desperate for more, picking up hints of spiced clove and musky floral notes.

With a crescendo of whimpers, the thumping quickens and abruptly ends, and Jimin gasps, waking from his stupor, stumbling listlessly from the wall and wiping drool from his face. His head feels hazy as he blinks and turns, taking in the dark room and wondering what kind of dream he was just having. 

In the quietude of the night, he stands still and listens. Had he imagined hearing something before? Was it all a dream? Only the scent of the trees below his cracked-open window fills the space, but he inhales deeply in search of something more. 

Silence settles, heavy but somehow light, and he sighs, runs a hand through his damp silver-blond hair, and returns to the bed, trying his best to ignore the ache in his pants – hard and neglected. 

"Not tonight," he whispers, scolding himself. Not over the thought of you. Not when he has someone waiting for him back home. 

"Sleep well?" you ask at the sight of Jimin exiting the inn. 

He wears a black tee tucked into black fitted jeans, with his black belt and shiny black leather boots, and you smile to yourself, both over the simplicity of it all, and from how much he stands out in a place like this. 

Although denim is not frowned upon in the village, and is worn often by the elders on the other side of the island, the girls love to dress up in renaissance-reminiscent clothing and make believe that every day is a fairytale. After all, on An Ghealach, it can be. 

You are modestly outfitted in a white chemise dress that is cinched at the waist, with an undershirt to hold your breasts in place, and simple cloth white shoes. Your straight, black hair falls waist-length, braided intricately away from your face, letting the sun hit your deep-golden skin. 

"I slept alright," he responds, voice rough from disuse. 

Jimin smiles softly, and you check for any glimmer that he has noticed the shifting of your appearance, of the outside of the inn, of the stone path that stretches around the forest edge. When Jimin smiles and asks if there is anything he can do to help set up for Beltane, seemingly unaware, you nod and lead the way. 

"All there is to do today is prepare the land, which the girls have under control," you inform. "We can discuss phonemes in the meantime, if you have your equipment handy.”

With a wide smile, Jimin pulls a small recording device and notebook from his back pocket and holds them up. "Always prepared."

You chuckle and mutter, "Perfect," continuing along the path to the field where the girls are cutting the grass with old, metal devices on wheels, and gathering all the prettiest weeds and wildflowers to fashion into crowns.

Jimin makes good company, curious and open-minded without asking too much. You can see in the way he watches the girls that there is so much he would like to know – can read each question that flits over his eyes, only to be blinked away. Where did they come from? Why do none of them speak English? Where are the men? These are questions that just hang for brief seconds at the tip of his tongue but that he never works up the courage to ask.

Perhaps he knows it is best not to know. Perhaps some part of him is aware of the horrors that might lurk behind the corner of posing one question too many. 

The two of you spend the day discussing vowels, consonants, and syntax. His grasp on modern dialects of Irish Gaelic is enough that he instantly begins to draw similarities between those and the older language spoken on the island.

And as the sun moves from burning hot overhead to sinking beneath the horizon, moving your studies into the inn's tavern, you find yourself scooting close on the bench while offering more honey wine to your eager, beautiful guest. 

Jimin has never sleepwalked before. In fact, he tends to lay so still that often, his neck and limbs are sore the next morning, popping as he stretches in an attempt to get the blood flowing adequately. 

So when he opens his eyes to find himself standing barefoot in the woods, hands outstretched toward the trunk of a tree, he yelps and jumps backward, nearly fumbling to his butt. 

“What the fuck,” Jimin mutters to himself as he glances around, eyes becoming more alert. 

The woods are nearly pitch dark, save for the bright glow of the waxing gibbous moon shining through the trees. What luck, he thinks, that the clouds are scarce tonight. 

Although there is no foreseeable path, the ground appears mostly clear of thick brush. Jimin turns and makes his way out, careful not to step too hard, gently shuffling his bare feet outward with each step, avoiding sticks and rocks as best as he can. 

Fear simmers just below Jimin’s skin. He attempts not to spiral, telling himself that he could not have possibly walked far. His blue flannel pajamas are warm, but thin enough that the chilly night air would likely have woken him quickly. And so, onward he presses. 

A flickering yellow flame glows through trees ahead, just to the left, and Jimin lets out a deep sigh of relief as he changes course. Although he is pleased to be making his way back to civilization, his new worry is being disruptive as he walks back through the old, creaky inn. He does not want to disturb Rí, who he imagines must be asleep at this hour. 

Despite the island being mostly covered in dense forest, the night is surprisingly quiet. Eerily so. Even in the daytime, insects and rodents are lively to the point of seeming cacophonous. How is it possible for everything to be so…still?

The sound of a particularly loud stick snapping – not underfoot but ahead – has Jimin tensing and freezing with fear. He holds his breath while his shoulders raise to his ears, trying his hardest not to be detected, until smoked clove hits his senses, and—

“Jimin!” you call softly, certain that his fear has spiked nearby, radiating like heavy, bright fumes between the birch trees. 

And then you hear it, a soft, delicate voice, calling a tentative, “Rí?”  

Ah, so the pretty thing is just ahead, and your plan to at least get him into the woods has worked without a hitch. You wonder what it was that snapped him out of his trance too soon. Next time, you think to yourself. You still have one more night to get him into the passage of his own volition. 

“What are you doing out here?” you ask, feigning worry and exasperation. 

“Ah—“ Jimin begins, voice sounding somewhat closer. “I don’t know. I must have been sleepwalking.”

“Is that something you do often?” you ask, holding the lamp higher. 

Jimin’s pretty face comes into view, peeking from between a thin birch that separates you, and you smile wide and welcome, taking in the blend of fear and affection that wafts from his pores and surrounds you. 

“No,” he responds softly, eyes wide and curious. “Never.”

“Strange,” you mutter, momentarily stuck in time and space from him standing so close to someone so dreadfully beautiful. 

“Yeah,” he says soft as a whisper, blinking heavily before standing straight and rounding the tree. 

You also straighten out and take two steps backward to give him room. When Jimin appears before you, your eyes drop to his bare feet, and you frown, making a mental note for the next time. 

With skin shades darker and hair shorter than earlier, you wonder if Jimin catches onto the new appearance. But his face gives nothing away. So the spell is just as strong, even if he broke the call of the other side just before entering the passage. Interesting. 

“How did you find me out here?” Jimin asks as you turn and lead the way back to the inn, searching the shifted dirt path for a believable excuse. 

You slowly lead the way toward the inn, and Jimin quickly falls into step beside you. When you walked outside to follow your guest just moments ago, you had left doors open and lights on intentionally, and you raise a hand to point in the general direction of the building. 

“I came out of my room and your bedroom door was wide open," you say. "The front door, as well. So I grabbed a lantern and ran outside; I figured you could not have gone too far.”

“Oh,” he responds, already sounding ashamed even from one syllable. “I’m so sorry.”

With an insistent shake of your head, you say, “Not at all. I am just glad I found you.”

“What if an animal, or—“ Jimin begins, but you cut him off. 

“There is nothing on this island that we fear. Closed doors are only such to keep the cool air out where it belongs. In the temperate months, doors and windows are left wide open.”

You are the witch of the wood, after all. Nothing that lives and breathes on this isle exhibits an ounce of free will if you wish it otherwise. Which reminds you… Slowly, you will the creatures of the night to stir – a scurry here and a dance of wings there – gentle enough to keep Jimin from noticing. 

Except he does notice. You can practically feel each hair on his body stand at attention the moment a squirrel is heard clawing up a tree, and you take a step just a little too far to the right, bumping into him softly with the hope of providing a bit of a distraction. 

"S-sorry," Jimin mutters, rubbing his hands on his blue pajamas. He seems nervous. Cute. 

"Lost my balance," you respond, shaking your head with a gentle chuckle. "It is past bedtime, I am afraid."

"Sorry again for the trouble," Jimin says as you reach the inn, passing through the threshold and stopping just at the foot of the stairs. 

You turn to Jimin and give a soft, sympathetic gaze. 

"It is no trouble at all," you mutter sweetly, smile saccharine. "I'm just glad I was able to find you."

Jimin hums, nods, and says, "It won't happen again," with a light bow of his head, then makes his way up the stairs, dirt-dusted feet falling quietly on each step until he is down the hallway, past your room, and closing his door softly behind him. 

The look of wonderment on Jimin's face really is something. As you walk through the small town, past the stretch of woods in which you found him last night, he keeps turning his gaze back to the trees. Is he wondering what it is he was doing there when he woke up from sleepwalking? Is he curious what drew him to that spot? 

You watch his micro-expressions as his brows knit and he wets his lower lip with just the tip of his tongue. He had been mid-sentence before, trailing off the moment you approached the spot through which he emerged. 

Jimin's gaze drifts to you, and he seems shy suddenly, cracking a soft smile while blush rises to his cheeks. Once you pass the wooded area and come up to the opening of the field, he seems a little more present. 

"Sorry," he mutters, and you continue to study him, noticing how his shyness seems to steadily build the more you watch him. 

"Has something caught your eye?" you ask, glancing over your shoulder toward the line of trees. 

A dark mist pulsates between the slender, white and brown trunks and branches, beckoning with tendrils that billow out and evaporate – yearning for the pretty man with the soft smile. Soon, you want to tell it. Be patient. 

"Ah," Jimin mutters, scratching the back of his head with his face scrunched as if searching for a memory. "I guess I feel a little strange about sleepwalking last night. How did I end up in the woods, of all places?"

You hum in understanding and say, "The wood calls to us all, I suppose."

Without giving Jimin much time to dwell on your words, you hold out your hand and point him to where, in the center of the open field, some of the girls are setting up a maypole, and others are building a tall triangle of logs in the center of a stone circle. 

Jimin takes out his small recording device and field notebook, and you begin to describe the scene before you in a mix of English and the ancient tongue, carrying your studies through the evening and into the early night.

In the woods again. 

Jimin stares down at his hands covered in dirt and wonders how he has managed to sleepwalk two nights in a row. He stands with his shoulders slumped forward, bent slightly at the knee with an arm outstretched as if he was reaching for something before waking up. In front of him is the u-shaped opening between two thick tree trunks. Or is it the same tree? Jimin cannot quite tell – too difficult to parse in the dark – and he tucks the information away to ask Rí about later.

He would be freaked out, only the smell of the wood – rich, earthy, and damp, with the sweet, musky smell of blooming flowers – feels calming now that he is confident that he can find his way back. He takes a deep breath and resists the urge to wipe his hands on his pajama pants.

The walk back to the inn is short, and although there is no path where he is, a golden lantern glow flickering past the thin birch trunks guides him. As twigs snap underfoot, he notes that he took the time to put his sneakers on before sleepwalking, relieved to not be barefoot again.

Jimin thinks he can hear faint sounds of voices – whispering, or, perhaps, chattering. Maybe singing. The island inhabitants certainly are an interesting bunch. He supposes that being far from modern civilization and with minimal technology would make people behave a little strangely. With Rí being the exception. 

Something about you seems…different. And not just because of your appearance. There is an aura about you that feels almost otherworldly. Perhaps in the way you carry yourself. Jimin finds himself intrigued by you...he wants to know more…

"Right there," you sigh in a tongue as rich and ancient as the soil, tilting your head back to reveal more of your neck, switching to English. "Feels so good, little pet. Don't stop." 

His kisses are tentative and shaky, but he grips onto your hips with purpose, pressing his chest firmly against your back to hold you steady. Golden lantern light flickers through the curtains, one long, bright glow of a lamp that hangs just below your window, signaling that your friend is awake and that he has not entered the passage. 

The woods are calm tonight, seeing Jimin swiftly return to tilled earth without interference. It is only a matter of time before he breaks through the forest edge, and you huff impatiently. Tomorrow is your last shot; you will need to beckon him with a blood ritual. 

You reach for the ties on your chemise and begin to pull them open, but your pet takes over, raising his hands to deftly do the work while his lips and teeth drag over your neck, sending a small but steady tingle of arousal through you as the sticky-sweet huffs of breath warm your skin. With the top undone, his hands freeze in place, and you yank the fabric open, exposing your breasts as they fall past the thin white material. 

"Touch me," you sigh, needy. "Touch me the way he desires to."

On your command, his hands cup your breasts eagerly, fondling your nipples until the skin is pebbled and sensitive, making you hiss with pleasure. Your dress falls down one shoulder and he sinks his teeth gently into the skin, sending a flow of electricity through your body, exiting in the form of a moan. 

You tremble and tilt your head further to the side, giving his mouth more room to explore while his hands fall lower, attempting to gently lift the cotton layers of skirt and farthingale hoops before impatiently taking handfuls of the garments and shoving them up, over your hips.

Clear of the woods, Jimin moseys along the path, in no rush to return to his room, enjoying the crisp but warm night air. Something about tonight feels ominous, and he tips his head toward the sky, noticing a bright moon shining back. Is it full, he wonders. It must be, given the way it glows past the thin sheets of cloud, illuminating his path even more so than the lantern light that hangs from the inn. 

As he approaches the inn, Jimin glances up, noticing light coming from one of the windows on the second floor. He wonders if it is the room you stay in, and what you might be doing awake at this hour.

Gravel and dirt crunch underfoot, quiet and calming as he walks down the path. Shadows seem to dance over the window above, and Jimin finds himself gazing upward. Briefly, he thinks he sees the appearance of palms pressing into the window, halting his steps. But the glass is frosted, and he cannot clearly see through. 

Shame travels up Jimin's neck as he gets his bearings, realizing he had been trying to peer through someone's window. He shakes his head and takes in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the cool night air as he presses forward. 

Voices continue to chatter and sing, but Jimin does not see where they are coming from. Rather, the sounds seem to be lifting and floating with the wind, settling around him on all sides only to slip away into the night. Despite feeling fully awake mere moments ago, shivering against a chilly gust that blows his hair into his eyes, there is a heavy sense of drowsiness that begins to tug at him, pulling him forward, as if willing his feet to take each new step, craving his bed. 

The man behind you grips your hips tightly, then sinks to his knees, sliding his hands down to your ass as he lowers. He grabs firmly and spreads you, causing you to fumble forward and place both hands against the glass. Below, Jimin glances upward, attention caught by the movement. You wonder what he would think if he saw you like this – breasts exposed and mouth parted with surprise. 

Perhaps it is the way eagerness and curiosity emit from Jimin, or how your own excitement from being touched has mewls and gasps falling from your lips, but the man digs his tongue eagerly into your ass, slurping and sucking over your hole, sending a steady wave pleasure and arousal coursing through you. 

"That's it, pet," you whimper, nails scraping down the glass as you get your bearings. "Don't stop."

The man attempts to bend you further, tongue trailing down to your cunt, in search of your clit, but bending more would be too precarious, especially with the layers of material gathered, making it tough to move. He shuffles back instead and takes you by the hips to spin you roughly, causing you to yelp as you attempt to get your bearings and not fall over. 

When you look down at the man – the imposter that was spawned from the flesh and blood of a mature red squirrel, crafted perfectly to look just like him – you gasp. 

His plump lips are slick, glistening, and soft, reddened by the dim lamplight, and his short, silver-blond hair is a mess as he stares up with an eagerness that has you burning with desire. Ordinarily, you keep the clone for a bit; play with them a little until you have to wash their memories of you and send them home. But staring down at an imitation of Jimin just makes you want him – the real deal. 

“Please,” you mutter, breathy and aroused. “Don’t hold back.”

The imposture rakes his blunt fingernails up your thighs, sending a shiver through you that escapes with a gasp, and he leans forward, eagerly lapping over your cunt with his tongue. It feels charged and galvanic – a hum that vibrates in your bloodstream on a low but steady frequency. 

As your head lolls back you hear a gentle footfall on the bottom step. 

Jimin finds it odd that your light is on at this hour. He hopes that somehow his absence from the inn has not awakened you again, and he does his best to tiptoe up to the landing. 

It is soft, but he hears what sounds like a moan coming from your room, and he freezes, foot suspended in air just before your doorway, which is cracked open two enticing inches. A sliver of golden light casts a streak against the otherwise dark hallway, and Jimin feels a pull to it, eager to have just a tiny peek.

A whimper of the words please don't stop has the hairs on his arms standing tall. 

Come to me, Jimin, he thinks he hears the voice say lowly, inside his head. Don't be shy.

Jimin wills his feet to move – exerts all the force he can muster into taking three more steps ahead. And then he stops in the light that shines from within, and he looks.

Surely, he must be dreaming. There is no other way to explain how he is standing in the doorway to your room, watching as a man who has his exact same hair and body type devours you. Your legs are spread, one ankle over his shoulder, toes outstretched as you hold him close, and your bare breasts heave as you pant softly and beg him not to stop. 

Since this must be a dream, he allows himself to watch. As your fingernails dig into the wooden edge of whatever the look-alike has you pressed against, you unravel from his mouth. His sounds are lewd and wet, slurping and humming in a low tenor that Jimin recognizes as his own, and arousal stirs between Jimin's legs. He grants himself permission to touch, just this once, gently grasping onto his erection and squeezing it over his pants. 

Since this must be a dream, he allows himself to whimper from the warmth of his palm, eyelids flitting from pleasure as he listens to the man who looks just like him eat you out. He wonders what you must taste like – wonders if you would let him crawl in there on his hands and knees and try for himself. 

The man stands, turns his head slightly to the side, and wipes his hand over his mouth, leaving a trail of slick behind. The jaw, the nose, the shape of the brow – he is a spitting image of Jimin. How Jimin is in two places at once, he does not know, but he keeps his eye on the man who undresses in a flash, displaying his own tattoos exactly where he remembers them, flexing familiar taut muscle that he has spent years building and maintaining. 

When you wrap your leg around his hip and pull him close, your eyes find Jimin, gazing over his look-alike's shoulder, and he gasps, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. You shift before his eyes, hair turning black and then orange and then blonde, and he begins to question how you are supposed to look; he cannot remember your hair, nor eyes, nor skin, but nothing he sees now feels incorrect. 

"That's it, Jimin," you moan, eyes trained on him, looking over the look-alike's shoulder, and causing his aching cock to twitch in his pants. "Don't stop."

Jimin squeezes his eyes closed tight, and when he wakes up suddenly in his bed, he gasps for air, covered in sweat. The heat from what he presumes had to be a dream covers him like a blanket, and he cannot stop himself from relieving the ache between his legs. 

Guilt and shame do nothing to stave off just how hard he cums thinking about you. 

"Just this once," he tells himself, whispered softly like a prayer. "Just this once."

Today, you have returned to the long, orange curls, with piercing green eyes. Shadow and light morph your skin tone with each passing step, as the full strength of the island's magic fills you from the crown of your head to the tips of your fingers and toes. When Whitman waxed poetic about the body electric, could this have been his meaning? Certainly not. 

Beltane begins today. 

Around the maypole, you and Jimin will dance, with a belly full of cured meats and a heady concoction of honey wine laced with blood and a generous dash of magic. But first, you must greet your sleepy guest, and you tiptoe to his bedroom door dressed only in a thin, white chemise dress with light blue embroidered hems, and rap your knuckles three times against the stained wood. 

"Just a moment," Jimin mutters from the other side, sounding sleep deprived. 

What must he have dreamt about after stumbling like a lust-sick zombie back to his bed to the sight and sound of his clone fucking you breathless? Did he come to in a cold sweat, gasping for air? Did he touch himself thinking of you?

When Jimin opens his door, he is dressed in a loose-fitting white cotton shirt hanging over matching cotton pants. Along each hem is an embroidered design of light blue rounded flourishes that match those on your dress, and on his feet are plain white shoes. You offered the clothing to him last night, to be worn for today's festivities, and you are pleased to find him outfitted in the attire. 

His silver-blond hair is somewhat disheveled, and he has a hint of bags under his pretty, deep brown eyes. As he takes in your appearance, his petal-soft lips part, and you watch as his eyes linger here and there, as if tracing the faint outline of a memory, for split, fleeting moments. 

"Good morning, sunshine," you tease, adding, "May the fires of Beltane light your path," with a gentle bow of your head. 

When you glance up once more, Jimin is still staring, curious eyes glowing with a new spark that seems entranced and somewhat foggy. Here but also not. You allow him to stare until he begins to blink and shake his head, and then he smiles softly and returns your greeting with a hint of blush darkening his cheeks. 

"Merry Beltane, Rí," he says with a slight bow to his head. "May the fires of Beltane light your path."

At the breakfast table, down in the decorated inn tavern, Jimin laments having no pockets for his recorder and field notebook. "What if there are things I want to make note of?" he pouts so cutely beside you. 

"Today is a day for celebration," you insist, dropping a generous serving of spiced honey into his tea and scraping the wooden spoon against the porcelain just enough to make Jimin stir where he sits. 

"For celebration," he responds in a tired, malleable haze.

Lust and curiosity pour from Jimin, covering him in a rich cloud. Each time you speak, his body shifts ever so slightly closer, gaze lingering on your lips and throat, flitting down to your breasts. Shameless, the way he does not seem to care that you take notice.

"My dear, did you sleep poorly last night?" you ask, trying not to tease, pretending not to notice the way his cheeks darken further and he heavy-blinks again and again.

"I had a dream I woke up in the woods again," Jimin responds, slowly reaching for his tea and raising it to his lips. His eyes flutter closed as he breathes in the sweetened chamomile and spice. "And then…you were there."

"In the woods?" you ask, tilting your head with feigned curiosity. 

Jimin shakes his head. "In the inn. Your door was cracked open and I walked by. I saw you—"

Pulled from his trance just enough to mind his tongue, Jimin cracks a soft smile and lets out a breathy chuckle. 

"My dreams have never quite been so lucid before," he continues after a quiet moment. 

You hum in response and mutter, "Perhaps the magic of the wood is calling to you."

Jimin nods, slow and shallow movements, brows knitting a hair before he concedes to the notion. "Perhaps."

Jimin certainly is an eager man. 

Eager to drink from the wineskins and learn all the steps to the harvest dance and dangle colorful ribbons from nearby trees. Eager to join the girls around the maypole and cast his wishes and fears and desires into the tall bonfire which licks at the stars above. 

At nightfall, under the glow of the full moon, you slice open the palm of your hand with a stone dagger and allow droplets of blood to fall into his cup of magic-imbued wine. Jimin sits unaware, eyes glazed over as he watches nude bodies jump over the dying fire. You lick over your wound, tasting brassy warmth, and pass him his cup, which he grabs automatically to sip from. 

"Enjoying yourself?" you ask, leaning close. 

Jimin hums in response, downs his cup, and turns to you with wide, ever-eager eyes, hair sticking out on the sides from beneath a daisy crown. 

"What have you done to me?" he mutters after a long moment, and you giggle in reply.

"What do you mean?" you ask, watching as his eyes travel to your lips and back up.

"I feel…" he begins, eyes widening as he gazes at the celebratory scene before him, then back at you again. "I don't know. High?" 

Jimin searches your features, which shift in the flickering flame light, and he shakes his head lightly. "How do I feel so high?"

"Blood ritual," you respond with a grin, noticing as Jimin's face and scent alternate between fear, acceptance, and confusion – unsure where to land. 

"Blood ritual?" he asks, tilting his head to the side like a confused puppy.

With a nod, you lift your hand and begin to stand from the wooden bench, beckoning Jimin to follow you with your index finger. Blood trickles down from your palm to your wrist, tickling the skin. 

"Your hand," Jimin mutters as he stands in a rush, stepping forward to inspect your wound. 

"Follow me," you sing-song, taking large strides into the wood as the dripping red begins to stain your sleeve. 

"Rí," Jimin mutters sadly, following dutifully with his eyes trained to your wrist, reaching out with limbs that are just slightly too slow to grasp. "you're hurt."

As your footfalls snap twigs and the world around you darkens under the cover of trees and long rainbow ribbons, you press yourself against a thick trunk and reach your uninjured hand out to grab onto Jimin's wrist and pull him close. 

"Rí," Jimin pouts, "I can't—"

With a whispered, "Shh," you reach up and smear your spilled blood over Jimin's lips and chin, pulling a surprised gasp from his lungs. 

"You're mine now," you say, and Jimin nods as he lunges forward, slotting a knee between your thighs as his hands lift to your chin to draw you close. 

Jimin's lips are pillow-soft and tangy-sweet with blood and wine mingling deliciously. He moans as you open your mouth for him, and he eagerly licks inside, tasting and taking like a man starved. 

Blood smears across his neck and into his hair as you pull him close, and he gasps and moans between your lips as his hands begin to untie your modest cloth dress and push it down past your arms, past your hips, to the forest floor. 

"Need you," Jimin growls as his fingertips press harshly into hips and, waist and he lifts one of your legs to rest over his hip. 

He shoves his pants down and in one swift movement, spears you on his hard cock, stretching you with a pleasure-pain that has you sobbing into the night. Jimin fucks you in a rough tangle of balanced limbs, skin slapping desperately against skin, and you clench around him, working yourself up as pleasure unfurls in rich tendrils through your bloodstream. 

Once he cums inside you, there will be no going back. He will belong to you – to the land – and the passage to the other side will open up and swallow him whole.

But his hips still before he reaches his orgasm, and he pulls out and drops to his knees, making you whimper in confusion before clawing at the tree for stability from pleasure the moment he tastes you. Your eager pet was good at mimicking just how greedy and talented Jimin's mouth is, but pales in comparison to the real thing. Jimin hums and moans as his tongue laps at your cunt, devouring you while his fingertips sink into your soft flesh. 

How can you sacrifice something so remarkable? Will the lands forgive you if you keep this one, just this once?

Pleasure builds and breaks suddenly, and you cum on Jimin's tongue, gasping and sobbing into the cool night air as the trees flutter and rejoice all around you. The air is effervescent, filled with power, engulfing and billowing around you, reaching its greedy fingers for your sacrifice as you ride your high, trembling on his soft, kiss-swollen lips.

When Jimin stands, covered in a pink smear of blood and your slick release, he yanks his borrowed white shirt over his head and throws it to the ground. You pull him into a kiss, sucking his tongue into your mouth until only faint traces of your essence remain.  

"Please," you whine as you spin and grip onto the tree, rubbing your ass against his throbbing cock. "Please, Jimin."

Never have you needed to be filled with the seed of a sacrifice so badly; never has the oxygen coursing through your bloodstream shimmered opalescent for someone like it does tonight.

Jimin lines himself up with your entrance and wraps one hand around your throat, sinking himself in slowly while manicured fingernails dig into your hip. The pleasure is white-hot intense, quaking through you as you tilt your hips backward, desperate to feel full.

"So tight," he groans as he pulls out and snaps his hips forward. "Been wanting you so bad."

You moan as Jimin slowly pulls out and roughly thrusts in, asking, "Yeah?" when you find that no other words are able to form.

"Feels like I'm going fucking crazy," Jimin groans, slowly pulling back and roughly snapping forward, back and forward, back and forward. "These woods…the blood…what are you doing to me?"

Before you can respond, Jimin's grip on your throat tightens, and he fucks you at a rough, quick pace, forcing air to punch from your lungs as arousal and pleasure ebb and ebb endlessly. 

You scratch at the tree, ripping away chunks of bark while you lean your head against your wrists and try not to collapse under the treacherous, horrifying weight of euphoria as Jimin thrusts hard and deep, filling the night with the sounds of skin against skin and feral, animalistic grunts. 

The hand on your hip reaches down between your legs, and as the pads of Jimin's fingers swirl deliciously over your clit, he growls, "Cum for me" into your ear. 

Your walls pulsate and squeeze, and you follow his command, building and building your pleasure until you can no longer hold back, allowing the floodgates to burst as you cum once more. 

"Fuck, that's it," Jimin moans with a drag of his lips and teeth over your shoulder and neck. "Feels so good. So fucking good. I'm so close."

"Cum inside me," you beg, desperate, squeezing around him with every last ounce of willpower you have.

As if having a sudden moment of clarity pulling him from your spell, Jimin quietly mutters, "Wait…I can't," against your shoulder, dropping his hand from around your throat. 

"You must," you beg, petulance rising as Jimin's hips begin to slow and his whimpers die. 

"What are we…" Jimin mutters softly, "I shouldn't be doing this."

With an exasperated huff, you pull away from Jimin, letting his cock slide out, then spin, resting your back against the tree once more. Jimin's eyes are wide and afraid as he takes you in, and he begins to glance around as if searching for a way out. 

You reach the hand that remains covered in blood and drag it over one of your shoulders, scraping tiny pieces of tree bark against your skin as you tilt your head and say, "Have a taste."

Drawn by the scent of your blood, still under its spell, Jimin leans in close and drags his lips over your skin, chest lightly grazing over your hard nipples, and he hums as it fully takes over his senses once more. Jimin's fingers grip roughly at your hips, and you lift your leg, wrapping it around his hips and pulling him forward as you reach for his hard, slick cock and guide it back inside you. 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, holding him close while you adjust once more to the stretch – your pussy feeling used and sore. Jimin licks over your skin and begins to move his hips, and when he straightens out and fixes you with his dark gaze, he appears equal parts entranced with bliss, and afraid. 

Jimin's eyes are somewhat absent of their full glaze when he thrusts forward, and you watch as slivers of doubt cast over his features. Although your magic is strong, the will of a man can be difficult to break, even on a holiday such as this, when the ritual is strongest. 

But as you squeeze around him and let your scent of spiced clove and musky wildflowers fill the air, Jimin's pupils blow wide, and he leans forward, dragging his lips and teeth once more over your bloodstained skin.

As he sets a steady pace and chases his high, Jimin begins to suck and nip at your skin, huffing moans and groans while holding your ass firmly in two hands. Your body is tired and sore, back scratched, and hair matted from rough tree bark, but the pleasure overpowers, building like the clouds of an impending storm, thick and foreboding. 

Cross his heart…

"Close," Jimin whimpers, and you tighten your leg around him, keeping him from pulling out as his hips thrust and quake unevenly.

"Come for me, Jimin," you command, sinking your fingernails into his shoulder while your other hand tugs at his soft, silvery hair and holds him close. 

Hope to die…

Jimin mouths at your shoulder and neck, digging nails into your hips so hard you wonder if the skin might break. And then, with a desperate, almost pained groan, Jimin's hips still and then shake, and he fills you with his release. 

Tendrils of fog wrap around each of Jimin's limbs, dancing over his throat, as the passage opens up and begins to swallow the two of you whole. Once he is on the other side, he can be prepared for sacrifice, and in the light of the morning sun, this land can drink of his blood. 

Hang his entrails…

"Good boy," you mutter softly, as Jimin's teeth clamp down weakly, and he sobs through his orgasm, pressing his body into you as it convulses and quakes. "You've done so well."

"What—" Jimin mutters into your skin, then moans deeply as his cock continues to pulse and drain. "I can't s-s-stop."

"Shhh," you whisper softly, stroking blood-slicked silver-blond hair and pulling him close. 

Jimin shivers as the smoke dissipates, skin sweat-sheened and shining in the bright moonlight, and you run your palms up and down his back. His body begins to give out, and he leans his weight into you, dropping slowly to the ground. Around you, the voices of the others – the inhabitants of this side – whisper, sing, and chant. As you assist Jimin to lay on the forest floor, exhausted from his journey to the other side, you kneel and then drape yourself over his chest, playing softly with his hair as you fall fast asleep. 

Bleed him dry…

Dawn breaks as you stand tippy-toe, dangling dripping tissue and sinew from branch to low branch like a holiday garland. 

"Pretty entrails, indeed," you beam as you take a step back, covered in dripping blood, to admire your work. 

"Merry Beltane, Rí," Jimin's rich tenor greets you, just before two strong, warm arms wrap around your bare waist and pull you into a back-hug, skin against skin.

"Merry Beltane, pretty," you respond, turning your head to the side just enough to greet him with a soft, chaste kiss. 

Upstairs, in the inn, a copy of the man sleeps soundly. Today is his last day on the island before his research is concluded, and you pull your nude, love-struck Jimin past the edge of the forest, where you will leave him with one last kiss before shifting the wood to appear normal and free of bloodied guts. 

You bow your head to the land and thank it for the bountiful summer you will undoubtedly receive, then turn your head to the rising sun, and beg it with eyes closed to allow you to be greedy and keep a pet, just this once. At least until the long days shift to long nights, and, on the precipice of Lughnasadh or Samhain, a new eager stranger comes along. 

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what was lost, what was gained ch. 3

Also on ao3! (linked in description 💖) beta by @bluedaddysgirl

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The reprieve Cody thought the voyage would bring never came. Maybe he was a little too hard-wired for battle. Extended periods of down time sometimes made clones nervous. But he’d been on long voyages like this plenty of times. And after they dropped the Sith off on Coruscant, they would embark on another one.

No. It wasn’t the same. It wasn’t. And Cody knew who to blame for that.

Sleep did not come easy to him at the best of times. And as the voyage dragged on, it became almost impossible.

Whenever he tried to rest, dread coiled in the darkness behind his eyelids. His thoughts ran on an endless loop. The Sith’s dark eyes, his pointed, needling questions. The general’s gloved touch sliding over Maul’s chin. The expression General Kenobi had worn after that first shift, when he thought no one was looking. Cody had witnessed it accidentally, led by an urge to glance behind him after he’d been dismissed. He wasn’t sure what he had seen in the general’s eyes—sadness, maybe. A lost, unsure gleam. A look Cody couldn’t forget.

All while the general stood, unmoving, gazing at the sleeping prisoner.

General Kenobi was wise, kind, unwavering. But the Sith had done what Cody thought impossible: he had shaken him. 

Cody felt helpless. There was nothing he could do. It wasn’t his place. All he had were his orders, so he followed them. He kept his eye on Maul. And Maul… well, he didn’t exactly make it difficult. He hardly moved. Mostly he read, meditated and slept. 

But when he did engage his guards… it was unnerving. Even without his connection to the Force, Maul still knew how to take his opponent off guard with a few well-chosen words. Comments as innocuous as You haven’t slept, Commander to Did you know your scent is different from the other clones? 

He was dangerous, even in a cell. 

Of course he is. He’s a warrior. They use whatever they have at their disposal. Just like you.

Cody didn’t enjoy that line of thought. He was nothing like a Sith, and especially not like Maul. He would rather die than be a blight on the galaxy. Rather die than hurt General Kenobi.

That familiar unease crept over him. After the first night with the Sith on board, the general’s state hadn’t improved. In fact, he seemed more exhausted than ever. But any mention of his deterioration was waved away. Yes, he was taking the time to rest. The extra sleep was helping. That will be all, Commander.

Cody’s hands were tied. The general wasn’t exactly skirting any of his duties, so he couldn’t point to a lapse of productivity or decision-making. It was just enough to torment him. A concern too personal to mention. 

“This level of surveillance is unnecessary.” 

The comment snapped Cody out of his reverie. It was the first thing Maul had said all shift, which was fine by him. He was happy to let the Sith rot while he tried and failed to file reports on his datapad. 

The Sith’s words came again. “I’ve no weapons. No power. No memory.”

Cody blinked away weariness as his mind caught up with his words. He either needed more caf or had already had too much. “True. Still can’t trust a word you say.”

“Why?” Maul asked. “Have I not shown I can be obedient? Obi-Wan had no qualms—”

“General Kenobi isn’t here. And he’s the one who gave the order to watch you. He’d be doing it himself, if he didn’t have more important matters to deal with.”

“Would he…” Maul said. His voice was muted, but there was certain infuriating thoughtfulness to it. “So, as second in command, you have no work more pressing than to surveil me?” 

Cody narrowed his eyes. “Double duty.” He lifted his datapad and shook it. “And in case you weren’t aware, you’re a criminal.”

There was a flash in Maul’s dark eyes. “Am I? That’s the first I’ve heard of it.” His tone was light, grating.

“Even if you don’t remember, you still have blood on your hands. You’re an enemy of the Jedi and the Republic. When we get to Coruscant, you’ll be tried for your crimes and left to rot for the rest of your days. If you’re lucky.”

Maul stiffened, his eyes widening fractionally. Not appalled, like Cody had hoped, not angry either. Just… accepting. “So, I have killed. Who was it?”

Cody blinked. The angry heat drained away as realization stole over him. Maul really didn’t know anything. And the general hadn’t told him either. 

Why? 

Maul hummed under his breath, lips upturned. “Don’t clam up now, Commander. Your general wasn’t forthcoming enough for my tastes.” 

“He doesn’t owe you anything,” Cody bit out. 

“Is that so? He seems very intent on helping me.” His expression grew softer. “Strange. I sensed no hatred from him, no fear when he first approached me, unlike you and your men. I could feel it all too keenly before my power was lost to me.”

The silence between them hung. Maul nodded. “Wise not to deny it. Perhaps you are in a league above your peers.”

Cody glared. The Sith’s smirk returned, wide and threatening. “Do you want to know what else I sensed, Commander? About you… and Obi-Wan.”

The general’s given name purred in that low, filthy voice made the hairs rise on the back of his neck. It was a name Cody couldn’t speak aloud, not freely, not without self-consciousness. 

“What? That I’m his favorite commander?” he spat.

“Hm. More like Obi-Wan is your favorite.”

Maul’s words should’ve been easy to brush off. There was nothing untoward between him and the general, not a single action or gesture that could be misconstrued. Cody had made sure of that. 

Only the secret, unanswered longing was there, a scream in his own mind. There was a spike a fear, a knot of anger. Somehow, Maul knew.

“I’m not interested in your lies,” Cody said, after a long, incriminating silence.

Maul tipped his head, grinning wider for a moment. Cody couldn’t shake the image of a preening raxshir, striped, dangerous. The Sith was enjoying this.

“What reason would I have to lie? Especially when the truth is far more devastating.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I grow weary of your denial. Wouldn’t you rather know how I know? It’s nothing so obvious as the Force. It’s far more droll, more… base.” 

Cody was frozen, as much of a prisoner as Maul. He couldn’t run. Wouldn’t be able to explain why he abandoned his post. He couldn’t stay either, couldn’t listen to his deepest secret pool like venom from the Sith’s fangs.

Duty, of course, won out. He did not leave his chair.

His skull ached. His jaw twinged. A single word. “How?”

Satisfaction bled out of every line on Maul’s face. “There is so very much that one reveals without thought or notice. It was your own body that betrayed you. Your singular heart, pumping so very quickly whenever your general offered you a kind word or touch. How sweet.”

Cody felt sick with disbelief. Denial was impossible. He couldn’t even form the words. And still the Sith continued.

“And if I can intuit so much, even with this…” Maul touched his collar. “How much do you think Obi-Wan already knows?”

It was out, then. The general had known all this time. Had known, and never mentioned it, never treated him any differently. Never returned that affection.

Of course he wouldn’t. He’s a general, my CO. A Jedi. And I’m a clone. Made for one purpose. Expendable. 

He hadn’t realized how much he had been holding onto the hope that one day, the general would look his way. Really see him.

“I never expected anything to come of it,” Cody said. His voice wavered. He curled forward, elbows on his knees, face in his hands. 

Even if Cody had spoken with absolute conviction, they both would’ve known the lie for what it was.

#fics #obimaul #maulobi #wwlwwg #star wars #darth maul #obi-wan kenobi #commander cody

[denialcity]

Eyedrops (1646 words) by codedredalert Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Naruto Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Haruno Sakura & Uchiha Sasuke & Uzumaki Naruto Characters: Haruno Sakura, Uchiha Sasuke, Uzumaki Naruto, Dai-nana-han | Team 7 (Naruto) Additional Tags: Post series pre boruto, Bamf hospital director sakura, I never finished reading and of what I did read I am Marie kondo-ing, no beta no edit we die like shinobi, Trust Issues, Trust, Team Dynamics, Dai-nana-han | Team 7 Dynamics (Naruto), Team as Family Summary: "I am cooperating," Sasuke argued. "I just can't have that stuff near my face. Especially from a stranger." "The entire surface of the eye needs to be coated before blinking," Sakura responded to the clone-Naruto. "So he needs to be able to control his eyes voluntarily. And Sasuke, you're not leaving without the treatment. It's your choice, we have seal restraints, or we can hold you down." "Then hold me down," Sasuke replied. "What?" the Narutos chorused. Sakura nearly joined them, staring at the dark-haired man sitting in the chair. "Hold me down," Sasuke repeated through gritted teeth, refusing to make eye contact with either of them. "Or it's not going to happen." === sakura and naruto hold sasuke down for medically necessary eye treatment thinking about uchiha instincts to not let people near their face and naruto and sakura having to hold sasuke down every time so that she can check and treat his eyes. something something he only trusts them/ only they are strong enough, honestly just an excuse to have naruto on top of sasuke while sakura clamps his head between her thighs that can crush rocks so that her hands are free to work

#team 7 #haruno sakura #uzumaki naruto #uchiha sasuke #made in denialcity #weeeeeee i only took forever with the milestone poll winner but it here

[wild-karrde]

Guarded - Part 1

Master List | Next Chapter

A/N: HI HELLO HOWDY! Alright, so a while back, I decided I would rework "Guarded" and "Reunion" a bit, so THIS IS THE START OF THAT EFFORT. This rework will not be as extensive as what's happening with "In Command", but this fic will be getting upgraded to an Explicit rating (with the M option still available on AO3). So if you're new to this fic, I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT, and if you've already read it and decide to revisit it, I HOPE YOU LOVE IT AS MUCH AS I ALWAYS HAVE. And for this go around, I WILL HAVE MY OUTSTANDING BETA READER HELPING FOR THE WHOLE TIME (TJ came on halfway through this fic last time), so THANK YOU as always to @teletraan-meets-jarvis for her stupendous support and beta-reading!

Chapter Rating: T (entire work is rated E, but M-rated version can be found on AO3)

Warnings: canon-typical violence, character death

Word Count: 3.4k words

She could feel it, something in the darkness, just out of reach, creeping towards her.

Not another dream.

The presence shifted, and with it, her certainty that she was in fact imagining it.

DANGER.

The word flashed in her mind like a siren. She rocketed to a sitting position, her hair sticking to her face and neck with sweat that was pouring from her brow. A dark figure loomed in the corner of her room, body half in her window. Their eyes met and his widened at the understanding that his quarry had detected him.

Oh, Maker.

Diving out of her bed, she rolled behind one of the ornately carved nightstands as a blaster bolt ricocheted off the light that stood on it. She coughed from the smoke as she yanked open the drawer on the front of it, pulling her blaster from its hiding place. Her assailant advanced, firing at her as she ducked further behind the nightstand. She heard him chuckle darkly as he stepped up onto her bed to get a higher vantage point.

She was exposed.

Without thinking, she launched herself from her crouched position, tackling the intruder. Her shoulder slammed into his ribcage, and she heard him grunt as her momentum carried them both to the ground, his helmeted head smacking hard against the floor.

He’s dazed at best. Got to keep moving.

She somehow still had her blaster in her hand and tucked it against the attacker’s exposed throat.

“Make a move and I will kill you without hesitation,” she panted.

She heard the same low chuckle again.

Suddenly, his wrist wrapped around hers as he tried to roll on top of her, but he had underestimated her strength. She squeezed the trigger once, twice, and the bolts hit him in the clavicle and throat. He gasped and wheezed, rolling off of her. She stood, her hair hanging in her face as she leveled the blaster at him again, ignoring the metallic smell of blood and charred flesh.

“Who sent you?” she demanded.

“It doesn’t matter…more…will…come…” he wheezed before falling silent.

She knelt down next to him, feeling for a pulse that no longer beat, and she cursed silently as there was a sudden banging on her door. She stood, tucking her hair behind her ear as her security protocols were overridden and her door burst open, the room immediately filling with guards. The captain stood next to her, gently taking her arm to turn her towards him.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, attempting to hide the fear in his voice.

“No, I’m fine. Can’t say the same for our friend here.”

The captain’s brow furrowed. He snapped out a few orders to the guards, and they all rushed to comply.

“They’re growing bolder. This is no longer safe, and you know it,” he whispered quietly.

“Gregar, we can’t let them win.”

“If you die, they win, and they came close tonight.”

“You don’t give me enough credit.”

“Oh, I think I give you plenty. But I’m making the call.”

---

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Three chimes echoed throughout the darkened ship. Only one of the clones was awake, and he didn’t move in his bunk, hoping one of his brothers would get it.

Beep. Beep. Beep. The comm panel was insistent.

Peering over the edge of the bunk, Hunter could see Tech was asleep at the comm station, his feet propped up on the console and his neck tipped back over the chair at a perilous angle.

How does he even sleep like that? No wonder his posture is terrible.

He could see the flashing indicator trying to tell them they had a new message, but Tech’s snores continued uninterrupted.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Hunter sighed in frustration.

He’s clearly not getting up.

He looked around in the bunk for something to throw at his sleeping brother but was unsuccessful. Groaning one more time as he stretched his shoulders above his head, he rolled out of the bunk taking care not to step on Wrecker in the bunk below him and made his way over to answer the message. He could see Echo asleep in the copilot seat in the cockpit and Crosshair was stretched out on the floor in the back of the ship. Hunter wasn’t sure how long it would take him to re-integrate with the team, but it seemed like the sniper was determined to keep his distance for the foreseeable future, even when he was sleeping. He sighed before moving over to the comm console.

Hunter shoved Tech’s feet off the console, jolting him awake.

“Hmmm…what is it?” Tech asked, readjusting his goggles, which were askew across his face. It never failed to amaze Hunter how alert his brother could be after being woken from a dead sleep. It almost unnerved him at times.

“We’ve got a message.”

Hunter punched a few keys and a hologram illuminated in front of them in the form of Senator Bail Organa.

“Greetings, Clone Force 99. I hope this message finds you safe. I have received a request for protection from one of our closest allies. I have been asked not to disclose the name over this channel for security purposes, but I am transmitting coordinates for your rendezvous with their representative. While this may seem unusual, the situation is…complex, and requires special attention, which is why I’m asking you specifically to take this. The contact has stressed that it is imperative that your presence there remains a secret, so please take the necessary precautions. Send a confirmation once you get this message and are on your way.”

The hologram dimmed and Hunter leaned against the wall, rubbing his hands over his face as he attempted to ingest all of the information.

“Well that was…ominous and vague,” Tech muttered.

“Whereabouts do the coordinates put us?” Hunter asked.

Tech punched a few buttons on the console, and a blue and green planet popped up on the display. “Naboo. Looks like we’ll be putting down well away from any major cities. Theed will be the closest one.”

“What do we know about what’s going on there?”

“So far, minimal Imperial presence. Currently ruled by Queen Kestia Nodala, who seems very anti-occupation and has thus far been successful in keeping large forces away. There’s been some rumored tension between her and the Empire recently, but nothing confirmed.”

“Over what?”

“Resources, allegedly.”

Hunter grunted as he ran the information over in his mind.

“Alright, well, let’s get heading that way. Set a course for Naboo and send Organa a confirmation and an ETA that he can provide his contact with. Also, let Omega know we’ll be unreachable for a while so she doesn’t worry if she tries to contact us.”

Tech nodded wordlessly, standing up and stretching his limbs and cracking his neck before heading to the cockpit to lay in the coordinates.

---

The green of Naboo’s forests glowed like a cut and polished emerald below them as Tech brought the Marauder in to land in a small clearing. They’d been met with no suspicion, and that was enough for Hunter’s nerves to be strained.

Nothing is ever this easy.

Quickly, the five clones exited the ship, armored and armed.

“Heads on a swivel for the contact,” Hunter’s voice buzzed from underneath his helmet.

“Do we even know who we’re looking for?” Echo grumbled, scanning the treeline.

“Me,” a voice said from behind them. A tall, dark complected man sporting an eye patch stepped from the shadows, hands raised to show he wasn’t a threat. “I’m your contact.”

The clones whirled on him, raising their blasters.

“And who are you?” Tech asked.

“Gregar Typho.”

Tech’s head cocked in recognition at the name.

Wrecker noticed. “You know him, Tech?”

“I know of him. He was the personal guard for Senator Padmé Amidala prior to her death, and he now currently works as head of the Royal Naboo Security Forces.”

Hunter stared at Typho. “The Royal Naboo Security Forces?”

The captain’s expression didn’t alter beyond a slightly raised eyebrow. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll explain on the way, but we need to get moving. We’re too conspicuous out here.”

“What about the ship?” Wrecker grunted.

“It’ll be fine. Step this way please.”

They walked to the edge of the clearing and Typho punched a few buttons on his vambrace. The ground underneath them rumbled as the Havoc Marauder slowly sunk beneath the grass, being lowered into large hexagonal opening below them. They peered down into what appeared to be a large hidden hangar below the surface. As soon as the ship was completely submerged underground, two grass-coated plates snapped shut seamlessly, and the clearing was again empty and seemingly undisturbed.

“The very precise coordinates make more sense now,” Tech stated.

“Impressive,” Hunter muttered.

“You’ll get it back,” Typho reassured him with a hint of a smirk. “Now come, my speeder is this way.”

The five clones and the captain piled into the speeder that Typho had hidden beneath the trees, and without another word, they were zooming along under the treeline, mostly obscured from view. Hunter noticed that once again, Crosshair had been largely silent since exiting the ship. In fact, he wasn’t sure if his brother had said anything since learning of their mission. When he’d given them the briefing, Crosshair had been leaning back against the hull of the ship, quietly working on yet another of his toothpicks. All he’d given was a nod of acknowledgement before starting to gear up. Now, he was sitting in the back of the speeder, his rifle tucked next to him while he stared out into the trees.

Just give him time. He needs time.

Hunter turned back to their newfound companion in the seat next to him.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Captain, can we possibly get an idea of what we’re doing here?”

Typho gave him a look out of the corner of his eye before sighing.

“You are persistent.”

“I prefer to know what I’m getting my team into. We trust our mutual friend that set this up, but faith will only get you so far.”

The captain nodded. “You’ll get more details once we reach our destination, but for now, the person I represent –“

“The queen?” Echo asked.

“The person I represent” Typho insisted, giving him a glare, “is in grave danger, and I have been assured that your skillsets are best-suited to protect them.”

“Better suited than your own?” Hunter pressed.

“There are… limitations to what my guards and I can do. Naboo is not a planet of warriors, and we believe in peace at all costs, even if those costs are sometimes great. A military force is not something we possess or something we welcome.”

“And yet you hired us,” Tech said.

“Yes, I did. Please understand the desperation of the situation for me to do so, and the risk that comes with it.” He glanced at their armor. “We’ll have to get you changed once we arrive. You’ll stand out too much with your clone armor.”

Wrecker groaned from the back of the speeder. “Ugh. Nothing ever fits me.”

Typho gave him a once over. “I’m sure we’ll find… something.”

They rode in silence for the remainder of the trip, the wind whistling by their helmets as Typho piloted the speeder through the forest. They could see the city of Theed rushing into view on the cliffs above, but the captain never turned the speeder towards the main entrances, instead steering for the bottom of the bluffs. Echo shot Tech a look, and he shrugged as they pulled into a large cavern. A few hundred meters into the cave, there was suddenly dim lighting along the floors and walls, and Typho expertly piloted through the tunnels.

“Where are we?” Wrecker shouted above the roaring winds.

“These tunnels run alongside the catacombs under the city. Best way to get in and out without being seen,” the captain replied.

Wrecker shuddered at his reply. “I don’t like dead bodies.”

Echo looked at him, tilting his head. “You see dead bodies all the time.”

“It’s different when I’ve killed ‘em.”

Echo started to ask another question but appeared to accept Wrecker’s logic as Tech shook his head, still typing away on his datapad. Crosshair didn’t budge, continuing to stare into the tunnel ahead of them, the dim lighting gleaming off of his visor.

After seemingly several klicks, Typho pulled the speeder to a stop in a tunnel that led to a staircase cut into the rocky walls. He pulled his helmet from under his seat, tucking it under his arm as the clones assembled in front of him. Making sure he had their attention, he spoke.

“From here on out, it’s imperative that you not be spotted by anyone outside of the small group of people that are aware of this plan. You must do exactly as I say, is that understood?”

The rest of the clones turned to Hunter, who nodded. “We understand, Captain Typho. We’ll follow your lead.”

The captain dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement, placing his helmet on his head, but Hunter could sense his continued unease. He turned and began climbing the stairs, and they followed. As they neared the top, Typho reached into his pocket to pull out a commlink, raising it to his lips. “Iden, do you read?”

A female voice responded. “Loud and clear, Captain.”

“Is she ready to receive her private appointment?”

There was a brief pause on the other end. “Affirmative. You have a clear shot all the way. I’ll lock down the entrances and have guards posted outside.”

“Excellent.” Turning back to them, Typho sighed. “Alright, let’s go. Try and stay away from windows if you can.”

They all nodded in acknowledgement. Typho keyed in the door’s code and they stepped through into a well-lit passageway with marble flooring and stained glass windows lining the hall. The corridor was empty, and they moved quickly to keep up with Typho’s pace. Echo had to keep elbowing Wrecker to hurry as he turned, taking in the architecture around them, slowing his strides to stare at the colorful windows.

“You’ll have time to be a tourist later. We’ve got to keep moving.”

Wrecker grunted but obliged, picking up the pace to keep up with the captain.

Typho led them up several flights of stairs and down several corridors before pausing outside a large set of closed double doors. “Iden, confirming we are clear?”

“All clear. Come on in, Captain.”

The doors swung open, and Typho motioned for them to follow him. The room they walked into had massive pillars encircling a seating area that was arranged around an ornate wooden desk. There were guards stationed around the room along with six women in matching dark robes, their hoods pulled low. A large window illuminated the room and the woman staring out of it. She turned to face them as they entered, clasping her hands in front of her.

Queen Kestia Nodala stood taller than most, her dark hair braided elaborately into the headpiece she wore, a silver diadem with dark blue stones that hung low on her forehead. Her gown billowed out, making her appear wider and more imposing with sharp shoulders and wide sleeves that hid most of her hands, only her white thumbnails poking out from the cuffs. Matching silver ornamentation lined the bodice of her gown, fanning out to the hem of the skirts, which flowed towards the floor. The queen wore the traditional white and red makeup of Naboo royalty, the red dots on her cheeks giving her face symmetry while a red line divided her lower lip in two, the Scar of Remembrance. Her green eyes glowed in the sunlight as she stepped forward to meet them.

Typho strode to her, removing his helmet again to tuck it under one arm as he bowed. The clones took their cue from him, removing their helmets as well.

“Queen Nodala, may I introduce Clone Force 99,” he gestured at them to step forward.

Hunter led the group, bowing stiffly. The queen watched him unwaveringly as he straightened, meeting her eyes.

“Your highness,” he said quietly.

His brothers bowed awkwardly behind him, doing their best to show respect even though they were all well out of their depth. There hadn’t been much time to meet politicians of any level during the war, much less any that were considered elected royalty.

The queen stared Hunter down for a few more moments before turning to Captain Typho. “I see my wish to handle this internally has been disregarded then,” her voice boomed with a slow, deliberate tone that made Wrecker shift uneasily on his feet. Her eyes snapped to him, and he quit moving, instead opting to stare at the floor.

“M’lady, we’ve discussed this,” Typho said quietly, his voice strained. “I do believe your safety warrants this measure.” Leaning closer and speaking so softly even Hunter could barely hear him. “And this was a compromise in my book, if we’re being honest.”

She watched him carefully for a few moments before letting her sharp eyes return to the clones, roving over each of them in turn. “Very well. As it appears my captain has decided you are necessary for my safety, I will accept his judgement. For now.” She swept forward, extending a hand to Hunter.

The rest of the clones watched as their sergeant fumbled with how to best greet the royalty before him. Finally, after several awkward moments, he clasped her hand, bowing again. He saw Tech nod slightly out of the corner of his eye and internally breathed a sigh of relief at somehow managing to get that right.

“Hunter, your highness.”

“M’lady,” Tech coughed behind him less than subtly.

Hunter shot him a glare before correcting himself. “M’lady.”

I guess I should be happy he at least tried to be sly about it.

As Hunter lifted his head, he could have sworn a smile tugged at the corner of the queen’s lips as he released her hand. Tech moved in next to make sure his brothers could see the appropriate protocol.

“Tech, m’lady,” he said, dipping his head as he clasped her hand gently. Hunter noted the muscles in her forearm flexing as she gently squeezed Tech’s hand before he released her fingers, raising his eyes to meet hers. Despite her initially stoic demeanor, the queen seemed slightly amused by Tech, her eyes sparkling and her mouth quirking upwards at his bespectacled brother.

Her reaction surprised Hunter, but then again, if she found Tech somewhat entertaining as a first impression, he wasn’t about to shatter that illusion.

We’ll see if she’s as tickled once he starts correcting her every move, he thought with a smirk.

Not everyone had the patience for Tech, and this queen seemed at least somewhat impatient based on her interactions with Typho. The captain was behaving as though he’d been anticipating a fight ever since they stepped into the throne room, and while one hadn’t materialized, Hunter could still see he was tensed in the way his spine was ramrod straight and the way his jaw was clenched, watching her carefully.

Once they’d all been introduced, the queen turned back to Captain Typho. “I suppose we should get these men into clothing that’s less conspicuous.”

He nodded. “Yes, m’lady. I had planned on disguising them as security officers.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What exactly will differentiate them, then?”

“They’ll be stationed right next door to your quarters and at least one of them will be with you at all times.”

Her mouth tightened into a thin line, and they could all see she was half a second from arguing with him again before another guard strode into the room. She was short with her hair pulled back into a slick plait. She appraised the clones for a moment before addressing the queen.

“Apologies for the intrusion, m’lady, but your next appointment is here.” Hunter recognized the woman as the Iden that they’d heard speaking with Typho during their walk to the throne room.

The queen narrowed her eyes at Typho in annoyance as she turned to acknowledge the information. “Thank you, Lieutenant. I shall receive them once Captain Typho and our guests have departed.”

With that, Typho bowed stiffly before turning on his heel and leading the clones out of the throne room the way they’d come, the massive double doors swinging shut behind them with a dull thud.

*Tag List: @seriowan @partoftheeternalsoul @rosmariner @misogirl828 @ellichonkasaurusrex @zoeykallus @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @staycalmandhugaclone @readheadgirl @fordo-kixed-rex @wizardofrozz @ariadnes-red-thread @justanothersadperson93 @leftealeaf @kaminocasey @echos-girlfriend @lucyysthings @obihiddlenox @merkitty49 @littlemissmanga @clonecyaree @baba-fett @sleepingsun501 @rexxdjarin @samspenandsword @babygirlrex0504 @ladytano420 @fxlsealarm @runforrestr @djarrex @corrieguards @the-cantina @witchklng @wolffegirlsunite @fives-lover @rain-on-kamino @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall

*If you do not wish to be tagged in this rewrite, please let me know (same goes for Reunion)

#karrde writes #guarded #star wars #the bad batch #tbb #echo #tech #hunter #crosshair #wrecker #slow burn #canon divergence #enemies to lovers #friends to lovers #tech x ofc #tech x original female character #crosshair x ofc #crosshair x oc #crosshair x original female character #tech x oc #OC Kestia Nodala #OC Iden Vena

[elizabethhood]

Chapter Four Now Up!

CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi

Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker

CC-1010 | Fox/Quinlan Vos

CC-5052 | Bly/Aayla Secura

CT-7567 | Rex & Anakin Skywalker

Obi-Wan Kenobi

CC-2224 | Cody

Anakin Skywalker

CT-7567 | Rex

Padmé Amidala

CC-1010 | Fox

Quinlan Vos

CC-5052 | Bly

Aayla Secura

Sheev Palpatine | Darth Sidious

Tags May Change

Post-Umbara Arc (Star Wars)

Pro Jedi

Jedi as Found Family (Star Wars)

Clone Troopers and Jedi as Found Family (Star Wars)

Anti Senate

Canon has been thrown down a reactor shaft and blown up in the cold vacuum of space

and I ain’t a sequels girl

I have never read the books

or comics

My knowledge is from ao3

no beta we die like my sleep schedule

Summary

After a very close shave on Umbara, the clones are granted access to the Jedi files. All of them. Edit: Chapter Four Now Up!

#codywan #star wars #clone wars #quinfox #blyla #jedi #quinlan vos #mace windu #ponds #commander cody #commander fox #commander ponds #pro jedi #ao3 fanfic

[friendlyneighborhoodcrow]

A Night To Remember

You know how Sam got pulled into the fellowship by dropping some eaves? Well, imagine that, but my dear reader, you are Bilbo’s gardener and you happen to overhear the most intriguing conversation pertaining to a certain quest for a mountain!

This is the first fic that I have ever posted, I hope you like it! I appreciate comments and reblogs! Also, I nearly named it "Dropping Eaves" haha

Hobbit fem!reader with the last name of Underhill no use of y/n! (I tried to keep it vague but I thought I should add the hobbit’s iconic wavy and curly hair, so boom, you have hobbit hair :>)

Relationships:

All platonic!

Warnings include:

Mention of ale (Like once, I think)

Embarrassment (does that count as a warning? I think it does)

Thorin being moody (what’s new?)

When you decided to stay late to trim Mr. Baggins' hedges, you had not imagined there would be so much activity! The freshly painted door endured an onslaught of abuse as knock after knock sounded through the crisp night air. You had briefly wondered if dear Mr. Bilbo had planned a party and neglected to invite you. But that idea was soon tossed out of your mind as you heard the hobbit in question squawk in indignation as yet another stranger entered his home. You could practically picture it! His face would be flushed and exasperated and how he would stomp his feet as hobbit after hobbit entered through the round door- no that wasn’t quite right, Bilbo’s unexpected company did not seem to be shire-folk.

You quickly moved from your spot next to a lovely bush of flowers to a shaded alcove near a window which was open just a crack. Carefully you moved to peer inside but stilled as you realized you were about to invade the privacy of your employer. You could never do such a thing, as you considered yourself a respectable hobbit! But as Bilbo raised his voice once more, you heard yourself mutter oh, bother! And nimbly moved to look through the pane of glass.

Inside was at first, as you expected, warm and filled with the comforts of home, but the longer you looked the more confused you became. It seemed Mr. Baggins' house had been invaded by a group of bearded folk! They were taller than Bilbo but not near tall enough to be human. Dwarves then, you resolved but paused to wonder what dwarves were doing in the small corner of the world you called home. As you pondered, you saw a tall man who was most definitely not a dwarf, nor a hobbit, hunched over in the hall next to Bilbo. With his back facing you, you could not tell who he was. Perhaps they had come to rob Mr. Bilbo of all his earthly possessions! The thought did not seem entirely implausible as you watched the dwarves carry chairs, silverware, dishes and what seemed to be the tea cakes you had baked for Bilbo!

But luckily for Bilbo, you thought, it did not seem that they would run off with his belongings but instead set the table farther down the hall. You struggled to see them but you found no trouble in hearing the merry gathering as they shouted happily and exchanged mugs of Ale. To put it mildly, it fascinated you! Whenever Bilbo let you use his library, you jumped towards his books and ledgers filled with stories of far-off places and beings. You dreamed of exploring the woods and meeting all manner of creatures, but never did you think you would realize that dream, let alone in the Shire! The most brilliant of smiles was painted upon your face as you watched Bilbo and his guests, suddenly wishing you could join in on the merry-making. However, you would settle for being a fly on the wall.

As the evening continued, you could not pull yourself away from the small window, never before had you seen Bilbo in such an uproar, only to be dismissed as his guests began to sing the most lively of tunes! You balled your hands into the fabric of your gardening apron to keep them from clapping along to the beat of the song, which centred on the displeasure of Bilbo. Oh, how you could live in this moment forever! As the song came to a close, there was a pounding on the door that caused you to startle and fall back into a freshly-weeded flower bed.

You scrambled back to your place in the alcove as you heard the door open. Pressing yourself close to the outside of Bagend, you listened. A deep voice sounded, though you could not clearly hear him. As the voices moved through the house, you began to worry that you may be spotted. Quickly, you ducked low but as you lowered yourself below the window, you could have sworn a tall man in grey looked your way.

Inside the warm house, the dwarves gathered close to their leader and the party shuffled back to the table that had been cleaned off moments before. Gandalf however, had his sharp eyes focused on a window where a flash of curled hair moved downwards. With a deep hum, he turned back to the dwarves and one poor hobbit as they began their discussion.

After Gandalf had pressed the fact that a hobbit would be the perfect choice for a burglar, he excused himself to allow the dwarves to ruminate over his words. He moved through the house with relative ease, considering his size, and stayed close to the shadowed corners to avoid being seen by any possible interloper. Oh so silently, he made his way to the front door of Bagend and opened it slowly, avoiding any creaks and cracks. The grey wizard found himself rather relieved that Bilbo’s freshly painted door had also been oiled to move smoothly upon its hinges.

Meanwhile, you sat listening to the dwarves and Bilbo. The man who you now understood to be Gandalf the Grey, slipped by your watch as your eyes lit with thoughts of their noble quest to Erebor. How wonderful it sounded! Never had you felt so truly close to your favourite books and tales as you did now. Picturing yourself upon a steed, riding towards a lonesome mountain, fighting a great dragon and coming home filled with stories to share caused you to miss as a shadow grew behind you.

“And what do you think you are doing out here young Miss?” A looming voice questioned.

With a squeak, you fell away from the window and quickly turned to stare up at the wizard who stood so close to you. Panic set in as you failed to come up with an answer, and your eyes darted about only to land on your sheers which you had dropped on the ground earlier.

“I was trimming the hedges!” you blurted. Lying had never been your strongest skill but you were proficient enough to get yourself out of sticky situations. But when caught red-handed by an imposing wizard, all skill left you and you were left stuttering and grasping for a reply.

“A little late to be trimming the verge isn’t it?” he calmly rebutted.

“Well, I- well you see-” you began but were promptly cut off as Gandalf chuckled at your expense.

“My dear, it is plain to see that you were eavesdropping, but it is also very clear that your stealth is unmatched, for even I did not notice you for quite some time.”

You felt your face grow hot under his scrutinizing yet kind gaze. You couldn't quite tell if he was trying to compliment you or incriminate you further. When you played hide and seeking games with your neighbour's children you could go oh so long without being found! But in this case, you found yourself feeling rather deviant and ashamed. As Gandalf looked upon your face, it seemed he could see your thought pattern and stated in a soft voice “It was a good skill to have,” and added to the end, “Now, I think you should come inside and meet the others.” A mischievous smile crept onto his face as you swallowed.

Walking inside the familiar dwelling your feet dragged somewhat behind Gandalf’s steps but as you heard the voices of the dwarves you couldn’t help but perk up at the thought of speaking with them. Gandalf guided you to where they all sat and one by one, they turned to look at you with expressions of curiosity, mirth, and annoyance. Whether you were ready for your fantasies to come true or not it was time to face the beings you oft dreamt of meeting.

“Gandalf, who might this young lass be?” A dwarf with the strange hat said while staring at you, his eyes a warm brown that twinkled in the low light of the room.

“This, Master Bofur,” Gandalf began, “is Miss Underhill, Master Bilbo’s gardener I believe.”

Before Gandalf could continue, a dwarf with a refined air stood and questioned in the same deep voice you heard from the door, “And what exactly is she doing here?”

“Well, I-” Gandalf began but was once more interpreted as Bilbo walked back into the hall. He locked eyes with you, and they blew wide as he took in your slightly dishevelled appearance, for you were sure that you had grass stains and dirt upon your clothing from the day and evening happenings.

“Why, Miss Underhill, what on earth are you doing here at this hour?” he said, exasperation clear upon his face and in his voice. It was strange to hear your last name from him as you had grown quite close throughout your employment at Bagend. You reasoned all the shock of the evening had rattled him quite thoroughly already, and that your appearance did not help in the slightest. Looking back over to Gandalf, he looked rather annoyed to be interrupted but turned to you once more with a glint behind his eye that could only mean trouble.

“You see Master dwarf and hobbit, this young lady was trimming the hedge,” said with a pointed look at you, “when she overheard what was meant for our ears alone.”

“So she knows of our quest?” A young dwarf spoke up, your eyes flitted over to him and saw that his beard was little more than scruff. He must be quite young then, you thought.

“Yes Master Kili, she does know of our quest to the Lonely Mountain, and I believe that she would make a most splendid addition to the company.” Gandalf finished.

In an instant, the room was filled with voices disagreeing with each other. It seemed they grew louder and louder, and even Bilbo had joined in to protest the both of you attending such a venture. As the bickering continued, you looked about the room to see many disgruntled faces and you could only imagine your look of shock at the prospect of joining their quest to take back their home.

“Enough!” The dwarven leader roared and the room quickly fell quiet. “Gandalf, first, you propose that an unqualified burglar join us,” He began with a cadence of resentment, “And then you bring a gardener into our meeting without warning and demand she be added to our company!”

“Aye, the wild is no place for gentle-folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves.” A large dwarf with a tattooed head spoke up, and you found yourself suddenly defensive of both your livelihood and your ability to handle yourself outside of your home.

“As I have said.” Gandalf stated sternly, “Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet and our interloper,” he gestured to you, “seems to have quite the gift for stealth as she has been here for longer than all of us.”

All eyes turned to you and you once again grew warm under the stare of so many beings. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words didn’t come out, you closed your eyes for a moment and took a breath. Opening them once more, your eyes drifted to Bilbo who looked entirely perplexed.

“Well, I- You see I- I was staying late to finish cutting down some of the hedges and tend to the magnolia bush, you see, I’m sure it will bloom soon and- and-” you trailed off.

“And?” An old dwarf with a snow-white beard raised an eyebrow as he cued you to continue. You swallowed and gathered yourself once more, now determined to make a better impression than a stealthy interloper, as Gandalf had so kindly put it.

“I was finishing my work when all of you started to arrive and I was simply fascinated as I have never seen any dwarves before. To state it simply, my curiosity got the better of me, I hope you’ll forgive me.” You looked down as you finished, afraid of how the party would look at you or what they would say. There was a weighty silence that prevented you from moving a centimetre.

“Well, I must say that it’s rather impressive not even Kili and I had noticed you!” A voice exclaimed in a cheery tone, you slowly raised your eyes to see a dwarf with golden hair smiling at you, and you found a small smile creeping onto your own face.

“Aye, and I assure you, we are quite keen!” The young dwarf who must have been Kili replied. At this, you started to feel a sense of hope that you would not be cast out but rather, welcomed into the group, however, your thoughts were interpreted as the leader of the dwarves looked your way and spoke.

“Regardless of any petty skill, I fail to see the claim you have to join us in our quest. Furthermore, why should I allow another addition to the company?” He said, not quite as a question but as a statement. You found yourself suddenly annoyed, had you given reason for him to question your integrity?

“Well, I find it rather insulting that you would write me off without a second thought. Furthermore,” you began mimicking his words, “from what I gather, Mr. Bilbo is yet to agree to join, leaving you a burglar short!”

“Lass, are you sure you would want to take on such a burdensome quest?” The old dwarf with snow-white hair spoke up, “Not to mention the many dangers that lay ahead.”

Before you could reply, you looked to Bilbo, who was visibly pale and faint. Cautiously, you asked him if he was quite alright and to your surprise, he laughed.

“You can’t possibly be entertaining this! To think, you and me gallivanting across the world!” Poor Bilbo seemed frantic and before you could think through your reply you uttered to Mr. Baggins horror that you were considering joining. Bilbo threw up his hands and began to walk toward his sitting room, and Gandalf took the silent moment as his cue to speak up.

“Well, I think that settles it. Balin, will you fetch the contract?” Gandalf smiled down at you, and you couldn't help but return the gesture, the old dwarf, known as Balin looked over to their leader and he gave a small and reluctant nod. As a lengthy piece of paper was passed over to you, you began reading. You would never admit it, but you skimmed most of the contract looking for the place where you would leave your signature. With a smile, you accepted a quill from Gandalf and cemented your place in the company.

Balin took the contract back and after looking it over, turned to you and said “Well, Miss Underhill, I formally welcome you to the company of Thorin Oakansheild.”

There was a round of cheers, and you shook hands with most of the dwarves in the room. Your eyes, however, looked towards the sitting room where Bilbo had retreated to. Gandalf seemed to follow your line of sight and hunched down to whisper to you that Balin possessed an extra copy of the contract and that you may yet travel with Mr. Baggins.

Suddenly overwhelmed with emotion you turned to face Gandalf and thanked him, for this was truly a night to remember.

#the hobbit #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #gandalf #dwarves #the hobbit x reader #thorin's company #Thorin's company x reader #Gandalf probably planned this #Bilbo is worried #I am so proud that I figured out how to add the continue reading thingy! #Bilbo x reader platonic #platonic relationships #friendship is magic #This could become romantic :0 #an unexpected journey #is that enough tags?! #No beta read #we die like clones #I had to add a SW refrence #sorry not sorry

[sigmaswaist]

Write my name when i’m gone? - Tanizaki Junichiro Angst

Tags: Major Character death, graphic depictions of violence, ftm Tanizaki Junichiro, uncannonical transgender character, ability usage, deadnaming, grief, discussions of death, Atsujuni if you squint

Summary: Junichiro knew his name would never be his, he just hoped that when he died someone would write it for him. unfortunately that writing came to soon.

dividers by: @𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘺

A/N: help i didnt beta read this

Junichiro lay panting and sweating on the training ground floor, Atsushi’s panting mirroring his own as the tiger boy laid down next to him.

“Hey, Atsushi-san?” Junichiro swallowed thickly as he looked over at the boy, his body aching from gruelling training for their next mission.

“Hm?” Atsushi hummed as he took a sip of his water. Junichiro sat up, his eyes distant.

“when i die… can you write my name for me?” Atsushi looked at the boy with a startled expression, his worry painting panic in his sunset eyes.

“Tanizaki-san!! don’t talk like that man!” Atsushi lightly punched the ginger’s arm. Junichiro gave a solemn smile to the boy as he worried, but leaving it at that as they headed into the dorms to ready for the next mission.

• • •

“Tanizaki!! We need you in there!!” Kunikida called over their earpieces, it had only been a few minutes since the mission had started, but it was all hands on deck nonetheless.

“Yessir!!” Junichiro ran in without hesitation, activating Light Snow in a heartbeat, he gave an invisible look towards Atsushi as he ran past where he and his partner had been fighting.

Junichiro sent his snow variant towards his target, even with his variant sneaking to ‘attack’ the target he knew it would be spotted, Junichiro had been hiding with the edges of light snow to strike. “An ability user?~ Oh this will be fun~” a creaky voice rang out through the warehouse as junichiro stilled. he had only had eyes on his target. he felt like an idiot as he scanned for the voice.

Junichiro watched as his clone had been shot from high, a sniper then. how annoying. “Kunikida-San.” Junichiro spoke quietly, sending another varient from the walls of Light Snow.

“Junichiro? have you captured your target?” Junichiro eyed the rafters of the warehouse, looking for the glint of a scope.

“No sir. there’s a Sniper here… i don’t know where from, light snow may not be hiding me.” Junichiro cursed as a bullet nearly struck him as it hit his variant.

“Shit- Junichiro stay there, i’ll be there in a moment.” Junichiro gave an affirmative as he went after his target with a leap, easily knocking out the nearly caught unaware man. It was just then when he had felt a sharp pain in his thigh. Junichiro yelled in pain as he felt it. Activatimg light snow to the maximum output, successfully hiding himself from all angles.

“Kunikida-san, i’ve been shot, looks like it- fuck- Kunikida-san it hit my artery-“ junichiro backed himself into a better view of the entrance.

“Fuck! Yosano-sensei we need you in the warehouse asap!!” Junichiro heard Kunikida’s footsteps draw nearer he only hid them both from above. “Kid?! shit hey i’m here.”

Junichiro held onto kunikida tightly as the blonde man supported his head and held his hand, “Hey Kunikida-san…” Junichiro felt a strong headache come on as he breathed laboriously.

“Idiot! if there is a sniper in a building you leave the building! don’t go and capture the target!!” Kunikida’s voice betrayed him as his voice cracked, his face only painting worry and anxiety.

“but i- i did good right? i got ‘em… just like you taught me.” Junichiro smiled weakly as the pain flared, his face contorting and white knuckle grip tightening.

Kunikida’s face softened as he held Junichiro gently, silent tears rolling down his face. “Yeah… Yeah you did great Junichiro, I couldn’t have asked for a better student.” Junichiro felt his body go cold as the panic set in.

“Kunikida-san… I’m scared.” Junichiro held onto the detective with a dying grasp.

“Hey, Yosano-sensei is going to get here and patch you all up.” Junichiro and kunikida both knew that was a lie, she had been fighting her own target and had been all the way across the fight, she wouldn’t make it in time.

“i don’t wanna go Kunikida-san!! i want to be here with everyone still! someone has to pick up Atsushi-san’s broken pieces!” Junichiro started to cry as it became harder and harder to feel anything, his breathing uneaven, laboured and panicked.

Kunikida gently held Junichiro, his eyes sad. “I know Jun.. i know you’ll make it i promise- stay with me kiddo..”

“I’m cold..” Junichiro shuddered as his heartbeat started to fade, holding onto his mentor’s hands weakly.

It hit them both then, Junichiro wouldn’t make it, Yosano was still too far away. Kunikida held Junichiro tightly.

“Hey Kunikida-san…? Take care of everyone for me okay..?” Junichiro shivered as he started to lose consciousness.

“I promise.” Kunikida Doppo watched as Junichio Tanizaki took his last breath. Kunikida Doppo was unable to save another person. Kunikida Doppo was unable to save the boy he saw as a son.

Three weeks later Junichiro Tanizaki was buried. He was buried as ‘Juriyin Tanizaki.’ there was always an ‘X’ over Juriyin, and a prominent ‘Junichiro’ over it. And tiger fur.

#blue writes 📖 #bsd #bsd tanizaki #tw // major character death #tw death #tanizaki junichirou #please reblog with better tags idk what im doing

[discar]

HZD Terraforming Base-001 Text Communications Network

Chapter 6 | Prev chapter | Next chapter Chapter Index

[Varl] has added [Beta] to the group

[Beta] has changed their name to [β]

Erend: WAIT, WE CAN CHANGE OUR NAMES?

β: standard function on nearly all text communication systems for over a hundred years

β: persmissions vary

β: permissions

β: sometimes only the admin can change names sometimes anyone can change names sometimes only you can change your name

[Erend] has changed their name to [ForgeLordAleMaster]

Aloy: Oh no.

[ForgeLordAleMaster] has changed [Aloy]'s name to [FlameHairSavior]

FlameHairSavior: Ohhhh no.

[Kotallo] has changed their name to [Marhsall Kotallo]

Marhsall Kotallo: I believe this is the intended purpose of this function.

Zo: Are you sure? You might want to look closer.

Marhsall Kotallo: What?

Marhsall Kotallo: Oh.

[Marhsall Kotallo] has changed their name to [Marshall Kotallo]

ForgeLordAleMaster: WAIT NO, I GOT A GOOD ONE.

[ForgeLordAleMaster] has changed [Zo]'s name to [GranolaGirl]

GranolaGirl: I... do not believe I get the joke? Is this because I had granola for breakfast last week?

ForgeLordAleMaster: I FOUND A CLIP CALLING A GIRL LIKE YOU A GRANOLA GIRL.

GranolaGirl: And what exactly is a "girl like me?"

ForgeLordAleMaster: UH...

[ForgeLordAleMaster] changed [Varl]'s name to [HIMBO]

HIMBO: I don't get it.

FlameHairSavior: It's an insult.

ForgeLordAleMaster: IT'S A COMPLIMENT!

FlameHairSavior: It's an insult hiding behind a compliment.

FlameHairSavior: Not even an accurate insult, really. It probably applies to Erend more than you.

ForgeLordAleMaster: THANKS!

β: we are all going to die i shouldnt have come here theyre going to find me and take me and none of you can stop them

ForgeLordAleMaster: I'LL BET YOU'RE GREAT AT PARTIES.

β: your sarcasm is noted and not appreciated

HIMBO: I think it's a family trait. Aloy ran away from the party after the Battle of the Alight, and I've read some things that make me think Elisabet Sobeck was the same way.

β: cloning is not family it is a desperate and flawed attempt to recreate a genius with no guarantee of success

ForgeLordAleMaster: I'M GETTING YOU AN ALE.

FlameHairSavior: No.

GranolaGirl: No, she's a patient, she's still recovering!

ForgeLordAleMaster: ALE IS GREAT FOR RECOVERY!

Chapter 6 | Prev chapter | Next chapter Chapter Index

#zo #HZDBaseChat #erend vanguardsman #horizon #horizon zero dawn #horizon forbidden west #aloy #varl #kotallo #beta horizon

[arctrooper69]

My Cinderella

A series of shorts and ficlets following Fives and his family in an AU in which clones are allowed to have relationships and actual lives outside of the GAR.

Series Masterlist

Beta read by @agenteliix (You da best!)

***

All Through the Night

Fives' daughter Chloe bonds with her dad over nightmares.

Warnings: Nightmares

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

"Fives we need to go!"

The command sounded muffled, far away. His mind was a void save for one word. Echo. A brief hesitation - the only outward acknowledgement of the strangling pain in his chest.

Then they were moving on. Moving forward as if nothing had happened, as if their only inconvenience was the destruction of the shuttle.

"You left me." Echo stood before him as a spectre - a shadow of his living self.

"I didn't want to... I thought you were dead!"

An overwhelming guilt flooded Fives' veins with ice and settled in his chest making it impossible to breathe.

The bright flash of the exploding shuttle replayed again and again.

"Echo, no! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"You left me to die!"

***

Fives woke with a start. Sweat soaked his shirt and he shivered. Your side of the bed was empty. You were working late tonight. His chest felt tight, like he couldn't ever get enough air - like the weight of everything he'd seen and all the brothers he'd lost was pushing him deep beneath the angry waves of the merciless Kaminoan ocean. He was drowning.

Fives wanted to be angry. He wanted to grieve, but there was no time for that. No time for anything but combat these days and it had even the most seasoned men on edge.

He got up, knowing that he'd never be able to get back to sleep tonight. At least not until you came home.

He couldn't explain how you made him feel safe. You made him feel strong. You were sweet and gentle, everything the war was not. It was your soothing voice that dulled the ache in his chest. He stripped his soaked T-shirt and replaced it with a clean one before slumping down on the couch in the living room. He turned on a holofilm.

A wailing shriek came suddenly from upstairs. Chloe. Fives bolted up the stairs to his daughter's bedroom.

"Daddy!" She sobbed, tossing and turning. He sat on the edge of her bed and shook her gently.

"Shhh... baby. It's okay! It was just a dream. You're okay."

Chloe's large honey brown eyes shot open with terror as tears rolled down her cheeks. Her dark hair stuck out at all angles which would've pulled a chuckle from Fives if she weren't currently terrified.

His heart melted but the feeling of drowning had not abated. If anything, her screams had made it worse. She didn't deserve this

"Daddy!" Fives picked her up, holding her shaking form in his arms and sat down in the rocking chair.

"Hey, shhh... hey I'm here. Daddy's here." He rocker her back and forth.

She sniffled, wiping her eyes on Fives' shirt. He rubbed her back as her sobs quieted down.

"Dada?" She asked in a small voice, looking up at him.

Fives rested his chin on the top of her head. "I'm right here, baby. Daddy's right here. You're okay."

"I..." she sniffled violently. "I had a bad dream." She shifted so that she sat in his lap, leaning back into the crook of his elbow so that she could see his face.

"Yeah?"

She nodded solemnly. "I... it was..." She began to get worked up again as her lip quivered.

"Hey, shh... You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

She shook her head, burying her face into his chest.

"There was a monster and it tried to eat you, Dada!"

Fives wiped her face, kissing her forehead.

"Daddy's not going anywhere, sweetheart. No monsters can hurt Daddy or Chloe. Besides..." he cracked a smile at her, "I don't think we'd taste too good."

She giggled a little at that. "And you fight them away?"

Fives nodded seriously. "That's right. We'll scare em away, won't we."

Chloe nodded, sitting up in his lap. "Yeah."

The soothing chirping of crickets sounded lightly through the window as they sat in silence.

"Daddy?" Chloe asked.

"Hmm?"

"Do you get bad dreams too? About monsters?"

"How could you leave me Fives!" Echo's ghostly voice rang through his ears. "You left me to die!" It seemed to press on his chest. It was a heavy weight that always seemed to be crushing his insides. He closed his eyes.

"Yeah, sweetie. Daddy has bad dreams too."

He sighed and leaned back into the chair, on the verge of falling asleep once again.

Two small, slender arms wrapped themselves around his neck and a little pair of lips gently kissed his forehead.

"Don't worry, Daddy. I'll protect you."

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

@zoeykallus @ttzamara @nahoney22 @merkitty49 @viva-la-whump @agenteliix @dumpsters-little-matchbook @nekotaetae @ladykatakuri @loverofclones @heyitsaloy @padawancat97 @jambolska-grozdova @flyingkangaroo @melymigo @rain-on-kamino @jiabeewrites @my-own-oracle @dragonrider9905 @queenofspades6 @ordinarylokix @jupitersaturnapollo @queencousland101 @vampire-rouge

If you want to be on my taglist, feel free to send me a message! Also, asks are open! Reblogging is very much encouraged and it makes me do a happy dance every time any of my writing gets reblogged 😂❤️

#my cinderella #fives x reader #fives x you #arc trooper fives x reader #arc trooper fives x you #fives #arc trooper fives #tcw fives #tcw fives x you #tcw fives x reader #arc trooper echo #nightmares #star wars #star wars the clone wars #the clone wars #swtcw #sw tcw #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #swtbb #sw tbb #clone wars #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb echo #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb omega #tcw au #star wars fanfiction

[captainpains]

Vigilance (Commander Fox x reader)

Fun for Foxy! Enjoy!

Warnings: gn reader, vigilante reader (but like Carmen Sandiego), swearing, mentions of alcohol and unsavory acts towards women, sexual tension, flirty banter, mentions of terrorism. No beta, we die like clones!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the lower levels of Coruscant, where the police and clones are scarce, there is rumored to be a protector.

A vigilante.

Someone who stopped the gangs from killing the civilians. Someone who halted thieves and saved women from drunken aggressors. Someone who insured the safety of the people on the lower levels when no one else cared. Someone who had evacuated the survivors of the power station attack. Someone who always wore a bright red coat.

That someone was you.

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

Fox sighed as he looked over the reports on his datapad. Paper work was never ending -- he'd hadn't slept in days. He took a sip of his caf and continued to read the report on the lower levels. The crime rate had dropped, not exponentially but enough for it to be noticable. That would be a good thing on a normal day, however, what made this stand out was the fact that the guard had been absent from the lower levels for a whole month. Fox knew this drop wasn't caused by the police force (maker knows they’re useless). He was brought out of his thoughts by a knock on his door. 

"Come in," he said tiredly, taking a sip of caf.

"Sir," the shiny saulted. "This security footage came in this morning. I think it's worth a look."

"Give it here," he ordered. The shiny handed the datapad to him, and with a second sault left back to his duties. 

Fox looked at the datapad. The footage he had was of poor quality, but from what he could tell, it may have solved his mystery. The blurry video showed what he assumed to be a break in, followed by a figure in red stopping them. The person, from what he could see, was human. The video had at least given him a lead. However, when he tried to run a facial scan on the figure in red, the still frame was such poor quality the system didn’t work.

And so started the hunt for the crimson hero.

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

Months later, Fox was still working on the case. It was far from his top priority, but his curiosity had been peaked when he saw that first video. Slowly, the mysterious crimson ghost (as the guard called you) began to show up more in security footage. The commander had even managed to pick up a trail, only it proved fruitless in the end. You always managed to evade any attempted capture. 

“Cheer up, vod,” Hound said, clapping his brother on the shoulder. “That Crimson Ghost can’t avoid the guard forever.”

Fox rolled his eyes and went back to staring down at his drink. By some miracle, the rest of the guard had convinced him to join them at 79′s for drinks. He needed a break from the whiny senators. Unfortunately, it didn’t help him relax much. 

“I’m heading back...” Fox muttered as he stood up.

Despite the protest of his friends, he moved through the sea of dancing people and towards the exit of the clone bar. Once outside, Fox took a deep breath, for once appreciating the stale night air. He moved through the small crowd of people. 

Before Fox could reach the platform where taxis were waiting, he got tackled and trampled by a couple of men running away from someone. He managed to stand up just in time to see a red figure fly after the men.

The crimson ghost.

Fox broke out in a sprint chasing after them. He was not a nimble as the red figure, dodging everything that would slow the chase. It was only when the men turned down an alleyway that he had an idea to catch up. He took a shortcut through a store and exited through the back door into the alley. He slowed to a stop and looked around, seeing nothing there, he slowly continued into the alley, pulling his blaster from its hidden place in his civi jacket.

"I have to give it to you, you're persistent," a somewhat husky voice said from above.

He was prepared when you dropped down in front of him, holding his blaster in a way that he could kill you if you tried anything. You took notice of this and raised your hands to be next to your head. Fox looked over your shadowed form, checking for any hidden weapons (or so he told himself).

"And you are very hard to catch," he replied slowly.

"Nice to know that I've been keeping the Coruscant guard on their toes," you replied.

Commander Fox looked at you, a questioning look on his face. You were different than he expected. The blurry security footage of you made it seem like you were so serious, yet you were teasing him with all the mirth of a brother.

"Where are the men you were chasing?" He asked, surveying the alley.

"Have you tried looking up?" You asked back, with a teasing tone.

Fox raised a brow but slowly turned his eyes skyward. He saw the two men tied together, hanging by their feet attached to a pipeline. They were gagged and from the looks of it unconscious.

"Impressive," was all he said as he turned his eyes back towards you.

"I do have a few questions for you, but first and foremost, I'd like to thank you for single-handedly lowering the crime rate in the lower levels. That is no easy feat." He complimented you.

"Why thank you," you smiled, giving a small bow. Fox hated to admit that his heart sped up at the sight. He lowered his blaster and put it back into his jacket.

"Thank you, sir. But I can't take all the credit. A few of your men led me to some criminals a couple of times." You replied, slightly bashful.

It was weird. He hadn't expected a vigilante to be bashful, but it was endearing in a way. It meant that you weren't arrogant at least.

"I would like you to come with me," you looked at him confused when he said that. "I have a proposition for you."

"What kind of proposition?" You asked, intrigued.

"You could be an asset to the guard. I'd like to propose you working more closely with us, help patrol the lower levels," he explained. "We can discuss details."

"You'll have to buy me a drink first, commander," you quipped back.

"That can be arranged."

You looked at him slightly stunned as a shiver went down your spine at his words. You hadn't expected him to respond like that, and especially not in that tone. His voice had dropped several octaves and his tone was so... Sexual. Why did he have to say it like that?

"Oh..." Was all you responded with, dumbly.

Commander Fox simply moved to the side slightly and made a gesture for you to walk ahead of him. Before you left the alleyway, you removed your red coat, showing the commander the satchel that was hidden. You shoved the coat in your bag.

It was a quiet walk back to 79′s. You thanked Fox for holding the door open and went to the bar. Fox lagged behind a bit. When you looked over your shoulder, you saw the commander talking to some other clones from the Corrie guard. One of them slapped him on the back and they were clearly giving him a pep talk.

“Sorry about that," he apologized when walked over.

"That's fine. But I was promised a drink and yet here I am empty handed," you teased.

Fox hummed, leading you to the bar with a hand hovering near your lower back.

"What's your drink of choice?"

"Corellian Rum, please."

The commander nodded, waving his hand to get the attention of the bartender. The bartender nodded his head in acknowledgement before he holding up his finger, signaling to give him a movement. Fox turned back to you, watching as you settled into a barstool.

"Now, what is this proposal you had in mind, commander?" You asked, leaning your head on your hand.

"We need help. We have no presence in the lower levels. We can't keep them all safe." He explained, bluntly.

"And what do you need me to do?"

"You can move more freely than we can. You can also act as an informant, giving us tip offs to help manage my men."

You hummed. It was not an untrue statement. It is hard to predict underworld activity if you have no presence in the lower levels. But what would you get in return for such a deal? It seemed a little one sided.

The bartender finally came over while you were deep in thought. Fox ordered you both a glass of Corellian rum.

"And what is my payment?"

Fox shorted, "This partnership would be a off books. You wouldn't get any money."

"I was not asking about money." You gave a sly grin.

Fox smirked, intrigued. He did expect you to ask for payment. However, he thought you would want credits. But... he was willing to negotiate alternative forms of payment (forms that would be mutually beneficial).

"We can discuss that later," Fox insisted as the bartender placed your drinks in front of you. "Lets drink to making this galaxy safer."

You picked up your drink, "To a new partnership."

"To the Republic."

You both downed your drinks, small smiles on your faces. This was a great start.

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

Months after the arrangement was made, you were sitting in Fox's minimal office, discussing the recent removal of a crime lord.

"It doesn't make sense. It shouldn't be that easy," you pointed out to him.

"I know. It's almost suspicious, but we can't look a gift bantha in the mouth," he replied as he finished filing the paperwork.

"But he seemed to go too easily. I've dealt with that syndicate before, and they never went down that easily," you explained, moving to sit down on one of the small velvet chairs that Fox had pillaged from the trash. You threw your legs over the armrest and settled further into the seat.

"Suspicious as it is, he's now under the strongest security that we have. You don't have to worry," he attempted to alleviate your worry.

"Yeah, Crimson, you don't have to worry a hair on your pretty little head," Thire exclaimed as he walked in, datapad in hand. He patted your foot as he walked by.

"I told you not to call me that," you chastised him with a huff.

"Crimson or pretty?" He jokingly asked as he handed the datapad to Fox.

"You know which one I mean."

"Do I really?"

You huffed at him. Thire smiled and left the office. There was a moment of comfortable silence before Fox cleared his throat.

"It's late," he stated plainly.

You hummed in response, not understanding what he meant to imply.

"You should head home," he replied, putting the datapad on the desk.

"I'm fine here," you said, nonchalantly.

"You shouldn't stay up late..."

"Are lecturing me on staying up late? When's the last time you got a good night's sleep?" You fired back, closing your eyes.

"You have-"

"With all due respect commander, if you expect others to follow your lead, you can't be a hypocrite. If you want me to sleep, then you should go to bed, too," you explained, letting your eyes shut. You smiled at the frustrated growl that left his throat. He knew you right.

"Fine... If I call it a night, will you go home," he conceded.

"Yes, but I want you to actually go to sleep. I'll ask Thorn in the morning and if you didn't sleep, I'll stop bringing you caf," you stood up and grabbed his arm, pulling him towards the door.

"I hate you..." Fox muttered.

"You know you love me," you replied coyly.

He knew you were right on that too.

#commander fox #tcw fanfiction #cc 1010 #fox x reader #commander fox x reader #coruscant guard