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multi-fandom-of-madness · 7 months

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for flufftober.. would it be possible to have day 6 be with swiss x reader?? idk i fell like even tho swiss is usually dancing all feral and shit on stage, he’d also be good at other forms of dancing? like i see him being able to do all that cutesy romantic dancing and dipping the reader and all that:( anywho- idk if you’ve already gotten a request for that one and if you have, you can go with that one cause i know this one is extremely late. i just saw that prompt and immediately thought of swiss being able to do shit from salsa dancing to waltzes to jazz. idk man. he just gives those vibes… maybe even classically trained? ANYWAYS IM SO SORRY THIS GOT SO LONG AHHH <333

Step On Your Toes

Flufftober Day 6: Dancing together

Pairings: Mountain X Reader X Swiss (Implied Poly!Ghouls X Reader)

Type: Fluff

Summary: Reader plans on surprising Swiss for his birthday with a dance, yet cannot dance to save their life. Mountain is more than happy to help.

Warnings: Light drinking, a bit of self-doubt

Word Count: 2,390

Notes: Read here on ao3. Find my flufftober prompt list here. Okay, so I absolutely loved both of these ideas, so I'm realllyyy hoping y'all are cool with me merging them :) Songs mentioned: Summertime Sadness by Lana Del Ray & Grow As We Go by Ben Platt. Second prompt under the cut for space reasons :)

“Ouch,” Mountain whispered as you once again stepped on his toes.

You sighed and dropped your hands, backing away from the tall ghoul. “I’m sorry…I don’t think I can do this. That’s what now? Eight times? I just want to surprise Swiss with a cute little dance, but all I can do is step on your toes.”

“Hey now, we have plenty of time to practice before the party. I’ll help you get this right,” he assured, resting a hand on your shoulder.

“But I haven’t been able to, and Swiss’s birthday is in less than a week. It’s my first year that I get to spend his birthday with him, and I want it to be perfect.”

Mountain pulled you into a hug, resting his chin on your head. “Swiss loves you whether or not you can dance. That ghoul is just insanely talented and a show-off. He isn’t going to love you less if you step on his toes.” His hand rubbed your back in a soothing manner.

“I don’t want to step on his toes. I want this to go smoothly.”

“Sweetheart, it’s okay not to surprise him with a dance if you’re that worried about it,” he offered.

“But I want to. I just…I don’t know…I feel like I’ll make a fool out of myself,” you said in a whisper as you walked over to the corner of the practice room to grab your water bottle.

Mountain chuckles, pulling you back against him, hugging you tightly. “Now, now, if anyone will make a fool out of themselves, my bets are all on Dewdrop and Phantom. You’ll be the least of everyone’s worries,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your head. “A few mistakes can’t throw a wrench in your plans. Plus, stepping on his feet a few times won’t ruin the dance. You were so determined to get this right when you initially asked for my help. Where’d that spirit go?”

“Probably the same place that my ability to dance went,” you mumbled as he began to sway while holding onto you. He hummed as if he were considering something. “What are you plotting?”

“How about this?” He spun you around, lifting you with ease and placing both of your feet on the tops of his. “I will move, and you will let your body move with mine. This way, I can teach you how to move the right way, then you can try it without me guiding you. How does that sound?”

You look up with a concerned look. “Do you actually think this is going to help at all?”

“Maybe…maybe not,” he shrugs. “And if it doesn’t, then we’ll think of something else to surprise Swiss,” he offered, holding you against his chest as he stared at you, his green eyes showing nothing but kindness.

“Maybe I can just get him a cat.”

“He already has Dewdrop. We don’t need another one,” Mountain teased. “Will you at least try my idea?” He asked, a slight pout on his face.

“Alright…alright, we can try it,” you sighed, giving in. You felt silly doing this, but there was a part of you that wanted this to work.

Mountain pulled his phone from his pocket and pressing play on a slow song, beginning to sway at first before moving his feet to the beat.

It wasn’t the song you intended to use with Swiss, but Mountain had a playlist of slow, mostly cheesy, romantic songs that he played while dancing in the rain or in the greenhouse with Rain.

“Summertime Sadness?” You questioned as the first notes rang through.

Mountain let out a laugh. “Hey, it’s a good song. Not every song on my playlist has to be heavy metal,” he said, moving his feet in a consistent pattern.

“The big, scary, earth ghoul is a Lana fan. Who would’ve guessed?” You teased as he danced around the room with you.

“I only know a few of her songs. Can’t lie and say they aren’t good, though,” he grinned, glad to see your mind on something other than the dancing. That only lasted a few minutes when you looked down to see his steps. He let out a gentle ‘tsk’, taking one hand off your hip to tilt your chin to look at him. “Eyes on me, love,” he whispered. “Let your body feel the beat, not your mind.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just feel,” he said as if that alone made perfect sense, placing his hand back on your hip.

“Earth ghouls…cryptic little creatures,” you huffed, trying to keep your eyes up.

“I am anything but little,” he scoffed.

“Yeah, okay, you aren’t little, but you’re still cryptic as hell.”

“I’m choosing to take that as a compliment.”

“Whatever floats your boat,” you laugh. He holds you close as you both move to the music. He has one hand on your waist and the other holding your hand. It’s sweet and simple, and you almost forget that you’re not moving yourself.

At one point he sets you on the ground, and there’s a small look of panic in your eyes before he spins you. He lets you twirl once, guided by his hand, then puts a hand on your waist, dips you, and gives you a chaste kiss. He grins as he pulls you back to stand on his feet.

“What was that for?”

“What? Can’t kiss my favorite human?” He chuckles, continuing to move along to the music.

“Well, you can. I just wasn’t expecting it,” you confess, laughing with him.

The song comes to an end and both of you just stand there, not quite moving. “Want to try another song like this, or do you want to try it without me guiding you?”

You pause to think, weighing the options. “What if we do two more songs like this, take a break, then let me try it on my own.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he smiles, already pressing play on the next song.

—

The night of the party comes rather quickly. You and Mountain had been practicing for a few hours each day, determined to get this dance down.

The room feels like it’s practically alive. People are dancing, talking, and drinking. There’s some sort of upbeat song playing. Even the decorations add an extra buzz. Truly a party designed for the lively multi-ghoul.

You were in the corner, sipping a glass of champagne, and practically freaking out. Mountain had an arm wrapped around your shoulder, trying to comfort you.

“You’re too tense,” he said gently. “You did phenomenal yesterday. Didn’t even step on my toes once.”

“I know, but that was practicing. And with you. Swiss is…such a good dancer. I’m pretty sure he knows every dance ever created. I’m going to embarrass myself.”

“You’re not going to embarrass yourself. I promise. No one will even notice if you mess up because if you mess up–”

“–when I mess up.”

“–if you mess up, he’ll cover for you and make sure no one knows that it was you. Trust me, he’ll guide you through it if he has to, but you’ll do amazing,” he assures.

“I don’t know…this just feels like a mistake.”

“Look at me,” he says, tilting your head up. “He’s going to love it. He’ll be thrilled that you even made the attempt if this ends horribly. He loves you, and nothing will change that.”

You sigh, staring at the bubbles in your glass. “I know…I just want this to be good.”

“It will be. You need to stop doubting yourself,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Swiss walks over with an excited grin. He’s dressed up - as is everyone else - but has a silly cone on his head, strapped to his chin that reads ‘Birthday Boy’ that Phantom and Aurora made him. “Well hello, lovebirds,” he laughs, throwing an arm around you.

You smile and press a kiss to his cheek. “Happy birthday, Swiss.”

“Are you two enjoying yourselves?” He asks, looking between you and Mountain, taking a sip of whatever was in his cup.

“I am, don’t know about this one,” Mountain teases, which gets him an elbow to the ribs.

Swiss looks down at you, a look of confusion on his face. “Now why is that?”

“No reason,” you say, taking a sip of champagne and giving Mountain a dirty look for saying something.

“Oh come on, you can’t not have a good time at my party. It’s my birthday,” he pouts. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong is that Mountain can’t keep his mouth shut.”

Mountain chuckles. “Guilty as charged.”

“No, seriously, is something wrong?” Swiss asks, he takes his arm from around your face to look at you face to face, trying to gauge your true feelings.

“It’s nothing important, Swiss. I swear.”

“Pinky promise?” He lifts his hand, making a fist, and extending his pinky.

You interlock your pinky with his. “Pinky promise,” you assure.

You chat for a few more minutes until Swiss gets called away by another guest. Mountain turns toward you with a skeptical look.

“So when are you planning on bringing him out for the dance exactly?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I guess when it feels right.”

“You worked yourself up, didn’t you?”

“What? No,” you said with playful denial, taking a sip of champagne to avoid eye contact.

“I’m not letting you leave this room until you dance with him,” he persists, taking the glass from you. “You worked so hard, and he’s going to absolutely love to see you surprise him.”

“I really don’t-”

“Nope. No more ‘I don’t’ or ‘I can’t’,” he interrupts. “You really should pull him aside, and ask him to dance. You don’t need to keep doubting yourself.”

“You’re right,” you sigh. “Are you sure he won’t laugh if I embarrass myself?”

“Did I?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, well that was just practicing. He’s not going to laugh.”

“Fine. Alright, I’ll go talk to him.”

“Good,” Mountain says, grabbing your waist and kissing the top of your head. “You’re going to do great. I believe in you.”

“Thank you, Mountain.”

“Of course, sweetheart. Go knock ‘em dead,” he grins, pushing you in the direction of Swiss.

You swallow the lump in your throat, then walk over to Swiss who’s in a conversation with Rain and Cirrus.

All of the ghoul’s knew about your surprise, except Swiss of course, so Rain and Cirrus exchanged a knowing look, ready to let you take Swiss away.

“Hey, do you mind if I steal this one?” You asked, slightly hesitant, putting a hand on Swiss’s shoulder.

“By all means,” Rain smirks, taking Swiss’s glass and party hat, then pulling Cirrus away.

You take a shaky breath, then pull Swiss to the dance floor as the opening to Grow As We Go begins.

“What are you doing?” Swiss asks with a slight smile. You move one of his hands to your waist, wrap that hand around his neck, then hold the other in your free hand.

“Surprising you?” You offer, beginning to sway to the music and trying to move your feet in the way Mountain taught you.

“You know you’re supposed to watch your dancing partner, not your feet, right?” He teases.

You look up, a slightly worried expression. “I’m sorry,” you say with a slight frown.

“Are you worried you’re going to step on my toes?”

“A bit…I haven’t been able to do this without stepping on Mountain’s at least once.”

“So that’s where you two have been sneaking off to,” he grins. “If it makes you feel better, my feet are much smaller than his.”

You laugh. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. He’s been helping me for the past few weeks. I know you really like you to dance, and that you’re really good at it, so I figured I would try to surprise you.”

“Well, you’re doing a great job so far. You’ve only stepped on my toes once.”

“I did? Oh, I’m sorry,” you frown, looking back at your feet.

He grabs your chin and smiles at you. “Hey, did I complain? No, I didn’t, so let me see those beautiful eyes.”

A shy smile comes over your face. “I’m sorry, I just…really want this to be perfect.”

“The fact that you felt comfortable enough to do this for me makes this perfect as is. You’re perfect,” he says softly.

The crowd is watching, but neither of you seem to care. It’s just a moment for the two of you. You bring yourself closer to him and rest your head on his shoulder.

“You’re doing amazing, you know,” he whispers, resting his head on top of yours.

You hum in acknowledgement and sway to the music. It seems to fade out, like the only thing happening in the room is Swiss holding you close. It’s the perfect moment.

He begins to hum along with the song, then pushes you away to spin you just as Mountain had done many times before. You let him twirl you before he wrapped you back in his arms with your back to his chest, pressing a kiss to your jaw. You giggled as his facial hair tickled your cheek.

He smiled and let out a light laugh. “You look amazing tonight.”

“I really should be the one complimenting you, birthday boy.”

He laughed again. “It’s my birthday, I can do what I want.”

He spun you out once more as the song began to wrap up. Holding you by the waist, he bent you back, planting a sweet, yet passionate kiss to your lips as the song ended. When he brought you upright, he was holding your cheek as he continued to kiss you.

“Thank you,” he whispered, keeping his face close to yours and staring into your eyes.

“I love you, Swiss. Happy birthday,” you said as you pressed another kiss to his lips.

He wrapped you in his arms, pulling you into a tight hug. “I love you so much, sweetheart. This was truly an incredible surprise,” he said, squeezing you against him.

“I’m glad you liked it,” you smile, wrapping your arms around him and returning the hug.

“And guess what?” He pulls away, a playful grin on his face.

“What?”

“You only stepped on my toes three times.”

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helloporcelain · 6 months

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Brûlant

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Pairing: Gale/Astarion Rating: Explicit Tags: porn without plot, dubious consent, inappropriate use of mage hand, blowjob, rimming, frottage, blood drinking, handjob, jerking off with blood, sex pollen

Summary: “…Precisely how much of this spider’s blood did you consume?” Gale asks, his hands brushing Astarion’s hair off his soaked forehead. The touch makes the unbearable, painful heat in his body squeeze around him like a heavy chain. “You’re scorching. You could give Karlach a run for all her gold.”

Read on AO3 if you prefer

It’s not the first time that Astarion’s thoughts linger too long on Gale. But it is the first time that the temptation to feed on him is truly born.

They’re at the goblin camp finishing off the last of their enemies when he notices the mage clutching his stomach. Stains mar Gale's usually pristine robe: vivid crimson mingling with golden embroidery and velvety plum fabric. Gale has never been injured to this extent before – and the smell of his blood is so insane that it takes Astarion a minute to actually register it as blood; it’s an unapologetic, scorching assault that stings his nostrils. It burns to breathe it in, like inhaling the acrid, heavy bite of smoke after lightning strikes the soil of the earth in a fury.

His curious gaze is clearly too obvious because Gale huffs at him. “Careful, Astarion. I'd exercise some self control if I were you. I'm fairly certain that indulging in my blood would lead to some rather disagreeable consequences for you."

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he sniffs, scrunching his nose up. “What the hells is wrong with your blood? The stench of it – it’s utterly disturbing.”

A wry smile crosses Gale’s lips even as he winces over his wounded abdomen.

“Perhaps the weave has granted me a natural act of defense. A deterrent to all creatures who might wish to devour me.”

"Well, it didn't do you any good here, did it?" Astarion drawls, playing his part of disinterest. "Consider me deterred, darling. A carrion crawler would be a treat compared to your freakish blood.” He tips his head backwards lazily towards the rest of the group fishing their arrows and swords out of fleshy goblin chests. “Somebody better tend to the soft little mage before he bleeds out.”

Gale clears his throat, maintaining his composure. “I can manage this just fine, thank you,” he insists. “The sooner we distance ourselves away from this fetid pile of corpses, the better.”

His bloodied form taunts Astarion the entire time as they get back on the trail, his head full with the noxious scent, pouding at the back of his skull – he barely contains the urge to shove Gale into Shadowheart so she can heal him, but the mage is too stubborn in making a show of how able he is. When they finally reach their home for the night, the group splits apart, and Astarion does his best to maintain some distance without coming across as too disturbed, even as Gale’s blood still accosts him in the air. With his feet aching from the long day, Astarion settles on a log and pulls out his arrows to wipe them clean of any lingering fleshy bits. Tav and Karlach start gleefully comparing all the stolen fruits of their labor they’ve gathered from the day as Wyll and Lae’zel hover over them to stake a claim on any well-crafted weapons. From the corner of his eye, Astarion sees Gale waving Shadowheart off, trying to step away to his tent, but her hand shoots out to pinch the fabric on his shoulders.

“Don’t be stubborn,” Shadowheart demands. “Let me see.”

“Ah, it’s just a scratch, really. Nothing I can’t sort out myself.”

“Sit, Gale, or I might just have to tie you down.”

Gale’s face flushes at the idea, but he relents and settles down on the bench next to Astarion, who tightens his lips at the proximity of him. Get away from me, Astarion wants to snarl. The smell of Gale is— is horrible, it’s awful. And irritatingly fascinating. He focuses his attention on his arrows, fixating on making them completely spotless, ignoring the gooseflesh rising on his neck from the pungent scent filling his head.

Gale shrugs aside his blood-soaked robe. He doesn’t notice when it misses the bench and falls to the ground in a heavy crumple. But Astarion does.

Halsin pops up behind the two — he’s chosen to spend the night here, and Tav is eyeing him suspiciously fondly — towering over and eclipsing Astarion from their view. Gods, he is big – the sheer magnitude of the elf is staggering, leaving Astarion momentarily awestruck.

“Might I suggest an alternative?” Halsin asks. “I am a healer of some renown, if I may cast aside modesty for a moment.”

Shadowheart considers this, and amidst their back and forth (with Gale flitting his eyes between them and wondering when they’ll decide to finally heal him already!), Astarion snatches up the garment discreetly and slips away. He doesn’t know why he does this— he wants to say he’s been compelled! That some mysterious force is urging him to do this! But that would be a bold-faced fucking lie. No – there’s an even worse reason – something innate, something primal that guides him to steal the damn robe.

In the dim privacy of his tent, Astarion carefully unfurls Gale's bloodied cloak. He turns it over in his hands and presses his fingers into the wet fabric, the stains practically pulsing underneath his touch. He traces his fingers along the ridges and then raises them to his lips. Astarion’s throat goes dry. The smell of it sends a searing burn down his throat.

The idea of consuming the essence of magic itself is fucking tantilizing .

But he takes heed of Gale’s warning. The wizard is many things – a love-bruised, disgraced prodigy being one of them – but an exaggerator? Hmm. Perhaps not. The blood is probably (no, definitely) vile, and Astarion is in no mood to try a sample and contend with the potential of vomit and the subsequent clean up. Still, it doesn’t mean he can’t just… ponder it. Heat pools in Astarion’s stomach as he contemplates the way it would feel to have an inkling of the power living in Gale’s veins, to claim a fragment of it for himself.

His cock twitches when his mind inadvertently takes it a step further: how Gale might sound pinned under him, how he might arch and drool as Astarion fucks him into the ground. To shut Gale up for once and claim him , bent over, hands tied behind his back, neck stretched out..

It sends his mind into a tailspin, and Astarion knows he needs to go back out there and toss the dirty, unsightly thing back on the ground.

Instead, he brings the cloak up to his nose and holds it close, breathing it in. Astarion is near intoxicated from the razor-sharp scent of it alone, barely aware of what he’s doing as he stuffs a hand into his pants, grabbing at his length. His cock springs free from its confines, exposing itself to the cool air. He strokes up and down, working it to a full hardness, then he holds his breath. An intense idea overcomes him. What is wrong with his brain? Why is he doing this? No answers come to his mind as he wraps the fabric around his cock. His hips buck against it, cock drooling precum into the soft friction of the velvet, mixing in with the blood.

Astarion concentrates on staying quiet even with his tent being the furthest away from the others, what with the others still unpacking from the day and chattering about, but the sensation has him hissing. It becomes a mission: there’s urgency in the way he moves, anger even, to come as fast as he can. He arches into both hands and fucks into Gale’s cloak, struggling to keep his breath steady amidst the strange, charred scent that fills the air.

The sight of Gale’s blood coating around Astarion’s cock gets him off so fast that he’ll never have the gall to admit it, and he allows himself a quiet grunt as his cum soaks into his fabric wrapped fist. When his orgasm dies down, Astarion bites out a humorless chuckle. Well , he thinks flatly, I really need a bath now .

He also somehow really wants to eat still, he realizes, his stomach churning despite dining on bugbears and goblins.

Astarion remembers some boar tracks on the trail east of the camp and doesn’t spare another second – he grabs the cum soiled cloak and throws it into his sack, along with a change of clothes and a fresh jar for any extra blood. Not that he ends up needing it — Astarion is particularly vicious about his meal, for not only does he drain the boar completely dry, but he makes an utter mess of it too: ripping apart its neck and clawing its chest open for no reason at all, other than that he simply can .

An hour later, he emerges from the woods, freshly bathed and belly bloated. The camp is quiet now, save for the sounds of an owl hooting nearby and the gentle licks of the campfire’s flames. Everyone has gone to bed, eager to start a new day. Everyone except for Gale, who’s tracing his steps in circles to find his missing cloak. It's no ordinary cloak; it's his absolute favorite one, he can’t help but grumble to himself.

"Did someone really just toss it away?”

Astarion skulks up to him from the shadows, causing Gale to lurch with surprise, hand flying to his chest. “Oh!”

“I washed it for you.” With zero grace, Astarion throws the cloak at Gale, damp, but now clean of cum and blood.

Gale catches the garment, eyes furrowed as he untangles it with delicate care. His eyes scan it over to see if Astarion has perhaps messed with it – which, well…

“You know, I really could’ve just used my magic to clean it.”

“I was gagging at the foul odor, waiting for those two to finish with you, so it was either that or burn it in the fire. Gods know I would not be able to handle you drone on about how you missed such an antique article of clothing.”

“I’m going to go ahead and choose to believe that you were just being uncharacteristically thoughtful, Astarion, so for that, I will thank you.” Gale waves his hand to the bottle of wine nestled up against the log. “Care to join me for a drink? Tav swiped this vintage red and it feels far too selfish for me to finish the bottle myself.”

Astarion purses his lips. “Why not,” he replies, grabbing a goblet and letting Gale fill it halfway with the wine. “What’s so special about this cloak anyway? Surely not because it’s in fashion.”

Gale proceeds to yap on and on about why the cloak is so near and dear to his heart, how his mother had painstakingly sewn it herself, and Astarion actually sits there and listens to the whole thing while he sharpens his dagger with a whetstone in between sips from his chalice. The worst realization of the night is not that he needs to keep his distance from an injured, bloodied Gale from now on (lest his brain gets carried away with the notion of devouring and fucking Gale again), but that Astarion finds him… endearing?

How twee.

✼✼

Tonight, Gale cooks entirely without any magic.

Karlach and Lae’zel return from hunting with a bountiful sack of rothe meat, fresh for the hearty stew that Gale intends to prepare for their supper.

“You'll see,” Halsin tells him, igniting the fire beneath the cauldron as Gale extracts an assortment of spices and herbs from a weathered wooden box. “To appreciate the experience of cooking with only your bare hands – without any arcane assistance - it's a fresh perspective, a new joy.”

“I believe you,” Gale acknowledges, tenderizing the meat with a small mallet. “That’s not to say that I completely understand the appeal of taking the longer route. Work smarter, not harder, eh? Multitasking is a wondrous thing! Back in my tower, I could have the pot simmering, a pin kneading dough for my bread rolls, and savor a delightful cup of earl grey – all without worrying about keeping a watchful eye on it.”

Halsin smiles, rising from the floor. “Well, here, you are not alone. There are many eyes to assist you.” He proceeds to enlist some of the others to help out with chopping vegetables, setting up plates and silverware on makeshift tables. Astarion is relaxed and reading as this goes on, taking in the last of the day’s sunrays. (Warmth hasn’t lost its novelty – it never will.)

The rest of the group buzzes as everyone waits for Gale to work his culinary magic. Tav can’t help but hover over Gale’s shoulder with curiosity (‘ The onions I found weren’t too moldy?’ they ask), asking how everything is coming together and Gale is so enthusiastic about it all that his big eyes seem to just sparkle with delight — and ugh – isn’t he just adorable . Astarion buries his nose back into his book – some terrible pulp erotica he’s picked up somewhere – not at all interested in the commotion around him.

When supper's finally prepared, the group gathers with hungry anticipation. Moans of delight fill the air as they all dig into their meal, and Gale looks particularly satisfied with himself. “You’re right, Halsin,” he says, holding his bowl on his lap, surveying them all. “Something special about tonight’s dinner indeed.”

“It is acceptable,” Lae’zel muses, staring thoughtfully into her quickly emptying bowl. Wyll grunts with admiration, his mouth full of food.

“Why even bother trying to be the greatest wizard of all time?” Shadowheart jokes. “You’d make a fine house husband with the way we’re all fawning over this meal. I mean, Halsin is practically in an otherworldly state right now,” and she nods at Halsin who’s finished his meal so quickly that he’s just sitting there with a satisfied smile.

Karlach shoves in a mouthful of potatoes with gusto. She looks at Astarion with a sorrowful shake of her head. “Aw, Astarion, it’s too bad you vampires don’t need to eat, you’re missing out on some culinary genius here.”

He looks up from the pages of his book and lifts an eyebrow at the mess on the corner of Karlach's lips. “Well, I can still enjoy the flavor of something, if you’re curious about that; though I have a taste for the luxurious – and a meal made with the leftovers of near rotten produce is not exactly something that appeals to me. But! You know. I’m sure it’s very good. To a plebian without a refined palette.”

Gale offers a good-natured rebuttal. “I admit, I don’t exactly have the farmer’s market available to me right now, but I think I’ve done an all right job with what I was given.”

“Oh come off it Gale, this is the best meal I’ve had in ages.” She points accusingly at Astarion with her spoon. “And nothing about you is luxurious right now,” she says, making a face at the word, “You’ve been wearing the same doublet for the last week.” Astarion scoffs and straightens up in embarrassment at her comment. “Try it. I dare you to try and tell me it is not fucking delicious .” She grabs the book from his hands, squints her eyes at the cover, and pushes her bowl towards him.

Gale looks at him somewhat expectantly with those damned puppy eyes and the entire party is now goading him to try it, so— Astarion decides he’ll humor them. It’ll be funny when he’s correct about the food being perfectly average.

“Fine.”

He takes a spoonful from Karlach’s bowl and brings it to his lips. The moment the stew touches his tongue, his flat expression changes and his eyes widen. It’s an unexpected delight. It’s savory and rich and perfectly seasoned and damn it, where did he learn to cook like this? In truth, Astarion hasn’t thought about “real food” in so many years. In the moments where he was at a tavern scoping for victims or entertaining Cazador’s guests at a ball, it never crossed his mind to indulge just for the sake of flavor – it would’ve felt like a cruel, pointless delusion to partake in when he was so starved of blood.

And though the stew does nothing to sate his true hunger; it’s a bittersweet joy, a tugging reminder that at one time, he could’ve been here as another version of himself, filling himself up on a meal made with such careful tenderness. The corners of his lips curl upward as he takes another bite, and then another. Gale, who’s watching him with anticipation, practically beams with satisfaction.

“Was I wrong!?” Karlach exclaims, slapping at her thighs with enthusiasm.

"You’ve forgotten a key part of this meal," Gale says, reaching over to the wooden trunk acting as a serving table. “You have got to try it with some of the bread, the crunch makes it a perfect little bite.” He reaches for the loaf, slicing a portion for Astarion. But before he’s done with it, the blade slips from his fingers, nicking his thumb in the process. He tsks, and blood quickly wells up from the cut, a droplet falling onto the ground as he brings it up to his mouth to suck the rest away.

“Ah, and this is why magic is a man’s best tool, in and out of the kitchen.”

Gale wipes his finger on his pants and swaps to the other hand to hand Astarion the piece of bread, but Astarion is stiff and locked onto the sight of the petite ruby droplets rising from the tip of his thumb. He blinks, and Gale looks down at his hand, then raises his eyes back to meet Astarion’s. When he opens his mouth to say something – no doubt something unhelpful and insufferable – Astarion cuts him off.

"It isn’t that good,” he snaps, not letting the look on Gale’s face stop him from getting up from his seat and slamming the bowl down on the wooden trunk. “I think it's time I go get my real dinner.” Astarion needs to eat something, anything . With heavy, tense steps, he storms off, disappearing into the forest.

He can’t recall later how many carcasses he leaves out there in the woods, or even what kind of animals had the misfortune of being found by him — perhaps some rabbits — but he remembers that he drinks, and drinks, and drinks, until the only feeling that remains is a piercing ache deep within his belly. That’s one way to keep your appetite in check, he supposes.

✼✼

In all honesty, Astarion’s not even hungry. But he figures it can’t hurt to eat one last big meal before they make it to Grymforge and into the Shadow-Cursed lands where they’ll be stuck mucking about in for Gods know how long.

He slips away from camp to skulk around the caves near them, unfamiliar with the territory and wary of all the strange little creatures hopping about. He scopes over the area to ensure there aren’t any poisonous spores floating in the air and wracks his mind over his mental notes to remember what animals Tav had told him to avoid out here, and that’s when he smells it: a plump spider nestled away in a small cavern.

Sure, Astarion is used to mammals, having sworn off the idea of insects completely since his newfound freedom, but it smells positively mouthwatering, and there’s no rules, no person, to tell him what he can and cannot eat – or do – anymore.

He considers the spider, looking over it not once, not twice but three times just to consider its viability, and he decides that it is perfectly suitable for a meal. He descends on the creature without any resistance whatsoever – it seems like it is sleeping, or sluggish, but Astarion can hardly question it as he drinks from it, mind clouding over from the craving he has for it. The spider’s ichor is a peculiar blend of something sweet and milky and almost sour, and Astarion drains it all from the creature until it shrinks away to a withered husk of its former glory.

There’s a mild cramp at first as the blood courses through him slowly, and he chalks it up to simply overindulging – he’s gotten somewhat used to gorging himself over the past few weeks, like a youngling set loose in a kitchen full of sweets. But with each passing step, Astarion feels an unfamiliar, searing warmth spreading from his stomach, a sensation that grows increasingly intense. He swallows through his prickly throat, trying to focus on his steps to navigate his way back.

He’s hot, and gods, it is a foreign sensation, is this how it normally feels? He doesn’t remember. But better question is – why is he so fucking hot? Astarion starts to burn up as if scorching needles are being threaded through his veins. The heat is centered in his face at first, making his pallid skin flush with a ruddy hue as it snakes through his chest, twisting through his tendons; then, it is everywhere inside, the worst of it contained within flames coursing down his thighs, threatening to send him sprawling to the ground. The pain coils through his body, the intensity of it rising higher and higher as he trips over the tangled roots of plant life.

Astarion makes it to the camp, but just barely.

He stumbles back in a daze, mouth fuzzy as if stuffed to the brim with cotton, eyes delirious as he searches the camp for the tiny basin Shadowheart found earlier to dunk himself in. I just need a bath, he thinks dizzily, a nice, cold bath.

With hazy vision and a throbbing head, he finally spots the tub, hidden in a little corner around the camp. There's a tiny moment of relief as he hobbles toward it. His hands tremble as he gets closer, ready to dive into it even with his clothes on. But as Astarion approaches, his focus sharpens, and he realizes that someone is already in it.

“Get out,” Astarion demands.

The water swishes as Gale swivels his head around to look at him. He raises an eyebrow. “I took you as a man with more manners than that, Astarion. I only just got in and I would greatly appreciate not being rushed.”

“I’m not joking around, Gale, get out of the tub,” he says, his fingers twitching at his sides. He’s always lamented the lack of warmth in his body, but now it just seems like a particularly cruel joke that he feels like he’s been set on fucking fire. Astarion lets out a sound of frustration as his hands lunge into the water, unable to wait for Gale, and not caring that it's warm. His movements are frenzied as he splashes water onto his overheated face over and over, gasping as the liquid does nothing to soothe his skin.

Gale leans back with a baffled expression as Astarion’s fingers plunge around in the water. Beads of sweat trickle down his neck. “Shit,” Astarion says, wiping his face dry with his sleeve. He flicks his eyes back at Gale, actually taking in the sight of him sitting in the tub (the sight of his soft chest, his surprisingly broad arms) and he stumbles backwards when his cock twitches and his stomach lurches at the scent of him.

He smells so good: a whirl of black tea, mugwort, hints of acacia, woody and clean – “Shit.”

He runs his shaking hands over his face and looks away, breathing deeply to try to calm himself down. To try and make sense of the savage feeling building underneath the thin barrier of his embarrassment.

“Something is wrong with you. What in the hells did you do, Astarion?”

Gale’s voice brings him back to looking at him, but thank Gods — Astarion’s not sure if it is magic, or if his sense of time is off or if Gale is simply more dexterous than he seems, because he’s out of the tub and fully dressed in his robe, adjusting the collar back into its proper position.

“I –” Astarion scoffs, indignant at the idea that this is a result of his own actions. “I didn’t do anything. I had dinner. That’s– that’s all I did.”

“And what exactly, pray tell, did you eat? Were you mindful of all the animals that Tav said you could feed from?”

“Of course I was, I’m not a nitwit.” But he hesitates when Gale squints his eyes at him. “I found a spider.”

“A spider? Is that a frequent occurrence for you? Imbibing on the blood of arachnids? I admit, I lack extensive knowledge about vampire diets, but it doesn't seem to be particularly suitable –” “It smelled good ,” Astarion replies defensively, his voice cracking under an increasing sense of panic. “So I drank from it. As I am wont to do.”

“And how did it taste? What did it smell like?”

“It was – oh, I don’t know, milky? Bizarre in hindsight, but it was strangely appetizing. And — come to think of it, it didn’t even stir when I approached it.”

Something goes off in Gale’s brain and his eyes open with understanding. "Succubi spittle perhaps," Gale remarks as he scrutinizes Astarion's increasingly haggard appearance. "If my understanding of the fluid is correct, it's something one should be very wary of.”

“Get to the point, Gale.” “You consumed tainted blood from a spider that was likely dying from the effects of succubi spittle. That is… very bad.”

“Clearly – what’s going to happen to me?” Astarion chokes out, taking a step towards Gale. There’s a furious, irritated rash blooming now all over his skin, going down his torso and disappearing under the trousers that are stretched tight against his body. “I feel like I’m going to rip my skin off.”

Gale doesn’t seem nearly as alarmed as he should be as he cups his chin with his fingers and thinks. “The longer this spittle is in your body, the sooner you are bound to deteriorate. From what I’ve read, you’ll eventually find yourself reduced to hallucinatory, almost euphoric state, and if you’ve consumed a high enough concentration of it – you could move on to causing bodily harm to yourself, perhaps even death; which could happen through a few methods, such as incessant scratching or–”

"Enough!" Astarion silences Gale with a wave of his hand. “I’ve heard enough! I'm going to Shadowheart.”

Astarion’s stomach twists and turns as he moves past him with urgency, but the mage’s fingers shoot out like a bolt, wrapping firmly around his wrist. The touch sends an electrifying surge through his body and straight to his cock, making him recoil from Gale in shock.

“Fuck,” Astarion hisses. He glances down at his pants and can see them straining. And if Gale notices, well, he doesn’t comment on it.

“I’m afraid she can’t help you with this – well – unless… Ahem, allow me to clarify. There isn’t an antidote for this particular affliction, not in the form of a potion or spell, anyway. But you’re lucky, the cure is quite simple. You need to…”

Gale chooses his next words carefully.

“Well, normally, you could bed someone and be rid of it. So, essentially, in a manner of speaking, you need to flush it out of your body immediately.”

Astarion narrows his eyes, letting the insinuation sink into his brain.

“I see. Well. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Right.” Gale steps to the side, scratching at his head.

An agonized groan escapes from Astarion on his second step. The world swirls around him, and he loses balance, crumpling to his knees. His arms tremble as he tries to maintain his precarious balance. “This can't possibly be how I meet my end! This is far too pitiful for me."

“My fanged friend,” Gale bends down slightly to grasp his shoulders, unaware that his touch makes his cock pulse with precum. His voice stirs something fizzy in Astarion’s stomach, his brain swoops, and he can’t help it – he moans . Astarion tries to push the invading thoughts out of his brain, but they beat back at him, filling his mind with images of ripping away Gale’s clothes, shoving him into the ground, stretching him out –

"No need for the dramatics. I can help you back to your tent, but after that, you’ll need to muster the strength to combat this condition."

Never in his life – even throughout the endless forms of torture he’s endured under Cazador’s hands – has Astarion ever felt like his cock might rot and fall off, but he’s certain he’ll have to prepare a eulogy for it now. It takes everything in him to not reach out and grab Gale to ravage his mouth, his stomach twisting in agony at suppressing his urges. With desperation, he tugs at Gale's robes.

“I can’t feel my legs.”

He heaves a cough, and then a deafening ringing weighs down in his ears. Gale’s lips are moving but there’s nothing coming out of them. Astarion’s mind glazes over so quickly that he’s hardly aware of being carried back to his bedroll, where he ends up sprawled on his back. Throbbing, white-hot lust singes through his body and coats deep in his core as he sucks in rapid breaths of air. His eyes clench shut in agony when the unbearable itch moves through his body and settles on his thighs.

“Astarion,” he hears Gale’s voice floating back into his head. He sounds so far away, but Astarion knows he’s right there, because a hand gently smacks at his cheek. He flinches as another wave rolls through his body at the touch. “I’ve brought you to your tent. Can you open your eyes? I should take my leave, though it would be very uncomfortable for me to explain to the others how you died.”

“Died? Don’t you dare leave! No, no, stay and help me.”

“I’ll remind you again, Astarion, you can’t be healed of this, you need to–”

“I heard you the first – gods, ugh – the first time.”

His eyes flutter open to see Gale sitting beside him, tense with worry. Astarion doesn’t register it, because suddenly, everything is so much slower around him. Everything in his vision dips, and then he only notices the wizard’s eyes swirling like rich brandy and dissolved sugar cubes so bright they could burn a hole in his body. There is a whole galaxy swimming and humming in Gale’s chest and all Astarion can think of is how he wants to plunge himself into it, to wrap his hands around the magic nestled deep inside and to squeeze until Gale comes undone under him and —

“ Oh ,” Astarion breathes, eyes drooping into glassy little crescents. Well, if this is how he dies, Astarion thinks, this is how he dies. A shame that he’ll never get to plunge a stake through Cazador’s chest. “Death is so beautiful.”

“...Precisely how much of this spider’s blood did you consume?” Gale asks, his hands brushing Astarion’s hair off his soaked forehead. The touch makes the unbearable, painful heat in his body squeeze around him like a heavy chain. “You’re scorching. You could give Karlach a run for all her gold.”

“All of it,” he barks out a harsh laugh. “Of course. Of course you drank all of the tainted spider blood. And of course – I'm the one that has the misfortune of being the only one awake when you come back from feeding on said spider...” Gale trails off, shaking his head.

"I loathe," Astarion grits out as he aggressively scratches at his neck, his long, sharp nails scraping vivid red lines under his jaw, “wasting a good meal. Wouldn’t you know something about that?”

Gale stays silent, taking in a deep breath of frustration as he conjures a spell and casts it on Astarion. His arms drop sharply to his sides and his eyes shift to Gale’s face in confusion and anger.

“Clearly, you cannot be trusted to be in charge of your own limbs right now.” There is an agonizingly long pause before Gale sighs, and continues, “And yes, you’re right, I can't fault you. I do know what it means to quell your hunger, lest the maddening thirst overwhelms you.”

Astarion’s eyes grow wider and wider until his mouth falls wide open into the most feverish smile. “A lesson in overindulgence, slow down on your next decadent meal of boots, wizard…”

His face drops.

“Wait, I’m dead. I’m dead?”

“You are not dead.”

“I’m dying, then?”

"While I'm certainly no cleric, I can safely say you’re not dying – but you are in a state of delirium."

“Okay. Okay, if I’m not dead,” he says, blinking up at Gale, trying to get rid of the stars speckling in his eyes. “Then you can help me purge this from my body – and I do mean help.”

“Help…” He stares down at Astarion with a look of disbelief. “Help, help? Ha! Yes, you are definitely out of your mind.”

“You’ve only made this worse by touching me and– and smelling so good – only a buffoon would touch the person in literal heat. My body has decided that it – needs you.”

“I,” Gale starts and stops, his mouth settling into a thin, mortified line.

“What good is a mage who doesn’t make use of his magic in times of true need?” Astarion babbles. “I can’t do it myself, and you don’t have to either, just. Let a mage hand do it. It’s not like it’s you’re actually touching me – we wouldn’t want that – but this way we can get it out without provoking me into a frenzied itching fit."

“I suppose I can make some concessions and — help you. We are both grown men, after all, and this is an emergency. However, we will be having a long chat about your lack of self preservation later,” Gale warns. He clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable, but then he conjures up the mage hand, and Astarion strains his head to glance in its direction. His vision corrects itself a few times, eyes crossing under his half open lids until he sees spectral hands, glowing a dim sapphire, poised and ready for its next command. Its cool fingers brush up his thigh, the vague touch causing little pin pricks to shudder down his spine, stopping at the top of his waistband.

“Err — are you ready?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Astarion hisses.

His head feels too heavy for him to lift up anymore, and it falls back onto the pillow with a thud. The itch in his body is so extreme that he doesn’t even care how pathetic he looks right now, but a voice in the back of his mind shouts at him: it's not too late to turn back – you’ve lost enough of your dignity, tell Gale to leave! Deal with this on your own, weakling! Astarion stuffs it back into a crevice in his mind; right now, relief is all that matters. This – this desire is weakness, he knows, but he has an excuse this time. It’s the spittle… it’s not him.

“I’m only looking to see if there’s anything else abnormal going on,” Gale assures him. “Not a second further.”

The hand tugs at the fabric of his pants, then, his underwear; and he holds back a groan as his length is freed from the confines of his pants, rock solid and rigid. His cock is so extremely skin taut and bulging to the head, it looks like it’s suffocating at the tip. It seems almost bruised, tinged with deep shades of purple, nearly black at some spots. Gale coughs as he sees it for just a second before turning his head to the ceiling.

“What? What is it?” he strains, unable to muster up the strength to lift his head up to take a peek at what’s happening between his legs.

“The hue of it… I can’t imagine that such discoloration is normal for you, regardless of your undead nature.”

“Speak. Plainly.” Astarion grits out between his teeth.

“It’s purple.”

“Purple? My cock?”

“…Yes.”

“Oh – gods. It’s going to fall off. I’m going to lose my cock. I’m going to be a eunuch,” he splutters.

“You are not going to lose anything. If I can’t fix this then I’ll have to truly evaluate my skills as a wizard.”

He shudders out a heavy breath as Gale commands the hand to touch his cock. It’s a gentle touch, hesitant to do anything more. “This year, Gale,” Astarion croaks. The fingers wrap loosely around him, and that’s enough to make him take a sharp breath. It starts to slowly stroke up and down, squeezing when it reaches the head, the magic radiating from the conjured hand seemingly sparking through his cock. "Faster." The hand falters for a second, before it follows his directions and works along his cock with more intensity. A tense minute of this passes before Gale breaks the heavy, shuddering silence.

“Is… is it all right?”

“Yes,” Astarion answers, but he thinks what he really needs is Gale’s touch – his real hands, not some conjured imagination of them. “No – yes, but no, I need – I need – touch me,” he begs, fucking begs. If he was in a less unhinged state, Astarion would throw up from how pitiful he sounds.

“I am touching you,” Gale reminds him.

"Gale, damn it.” He barely notices the heavy way that Gale swallows through his dry mouth. “That’s not what I mean.”

The mage hand continues to move up and down in a seamless glide, spreading his precum around, coating his cock slick. Astarion’s so hard he could cut through steel, it’s so painful, and he’s leaking a puddle against his stomach. It feels good— yet... It’s. Not. Enough. He can’t come from this alone. His head tilts back as he pants, his hips attempting to hump up against the conjured hand for more. “It hurts. It hurts so badly.”

Gale finally turns his head away from the tent’s ceiling to look at Astarion. His perturbed eyes bear into his skull. He’s thinking, weighing an idea.

“Please remember,” he mutters. “You asked me to touch you.”

With some degree of hesitance, he reaches a hand out to rub his fingers along the outside of Astarion’s right ear, gentle as he moves root to tip, running his thumb along the inner surface. Astarion lets out a gravelly moan, eyes crossing over as his mind is flooded with even more pleasure. Such an intimate act – reserved for the most cherished of lovers, Gale must know this – is not one that he can recall ever experiencing. Astarion’s reaction is instant; the caress has him trembling and on the brink of tears. At the same time, the arcane hand wraps its slick fingers tighter around his cock and gives faster, firmer strokes, twisting at the base and rubbing its thumb over the head with each pull.

“It feels – okay?” Gale asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Astarion chokes out something between a laugh of disbelief and a whiney moan – what a stupid question, what a completely insensible thing to ask!

“Ta,” he slurs, mind short circuiting, unable to push the answer – yes – out in common tongue.

Gale thankfully knows Elvish, he remembers, though it wouldn’t matter much if he didn’t, because anyone with half a brain can tell that whatever is going on is very much alright with Astarion. Another hand reaches out to curl over the shell of his left ear, fingers rubbing back and forth between the tip, down to gingerly pinching his earlobe.

Astarion writhes, deep gasps turning into shuddering purrs from his ears being stimulated. Frankly, it feels fucking shameless – the sensation overshadowing the thrusts of his cock against the mage hand. The only thing better that he can possibly imagine would be to have Gale’s pretty lips wrapped around his cock – and though he knows vaguely that there isn’t a chance Gale will relent to that idea, he groans at the image, terribly pained, and horrifyingly, overwhelmingly aroused.

Gale probably mistakes the groan of pleasure for only a pained sound, because he whispers to him with sincerity, “You’re okay, Astarion. It’ll be over soon. You’re doing – you’re doing good. ”

The comforting tone pulls a pathetic whimper from Astarion and he looks up at Gale, eyes pitched dark in lust as the hand pumps his cock. Astarion meets each one with a thrust of his own. Gale tries to break his gaze and fails, his own face flushed with arousal, his chest dimly glowing in the darkness of the tent. Astarion doesn’t recognize the voice coming from his throat, whining for more, quicker, harder.

“Déithe. Le do thoil.”

Gods. Please.

The pace of the mage hand stroking his length speeds up, fist clenching more and more each time as it reaches around his tip, and Astarion feels the wave of his orgasm spiraling out from his belly already like Gale is actually pulling it out from him with a spell. His breath hitches, and his cock pulses with cum – so much cum –and it spills all over the blue fingers, thick and hot and seemingly endless. True relief washes through him, but it’s also agonizing in its own way, and Astarion can't help when a grateful, broken sob wrecks through his chest. It’s over. Finally.

“Buíochas, buíochas, thank you–”

Before Astarion can even register it, the relief is short lived, and his cock is still hard as ever, still the same unsightly shade of purple. What the fuck. It’s as if Gale didn’t help at all. The only comfort is that the itch burning through his body has subsided. He can feel his legs again, and it seems that the spell on his arms has worn off. But his lust is full throttle, somehow worse than before; Astarion continues to want, to need.

“You're still–” Gale begins incredulously, but Astarion scrambles with all his strength to push him down on the ground before he can finish his sentence. His hands are all over Gale, fumblingly groping at his chest. He’s hysterically turned on, mindlessly driven to seek more pleasure, more flesh, more anything from Gale by whatever the spittle blood is doing to his mind and body, and he makes a strangled noise when he pushes apart his cloak and sees it.

The outline of Gale’s cock straining in his pants.

A dark, wet spot at the top of the waistband.

Astarion’s hands tremble as they run down Gale’s chest to his soft thighs. “You’re almost as hard as I am. Did you also drink something suspicious?” He leans in and braves just enough to place a finger at the outline of the tip. “No. I caused this,” Astarion salivates. “Not an uncommon circumstance.”

“You—” Gale gasps, snatching Astarion’s wrist away. “You are not in the right state of mind, Astarion.”

“Why state something so obvious?” Astarion gives a maniacal laugh. “No! No, I’m not fully in the same realm as you right now. But it doesn’t matter. I want to thank you. It’s only good manners, and I am nothing if not a gentleman.”

“There’s no need to thank me. I mean, really, I’m being completely sincere when I say I've changed my mind – you don’t have to bring up this terribly maladroit situation at all –”

“Then forget about thanks, darling, and just allow me the pleasure of pleasuring you,” he implores, looking back up at him, pupils blown wide. Let me, let me, let me . “I’m not so completely rat-arsed to not know that you’re hard because of me .”

His fingers trace over the waistband of Gale’s trousers, pulling them slightly so that he can see the soft, brown hair that deliciously trails from his navel. Astarion marvels at the feeling tugging at his chest: how he wants , and what’s more, he carelessly wants to want.

Gale’s eyes flit across Astarion’s face, his own expression fraught with anxiety. “I need to go,” he says weakly. “Once you regain your regular state of mind, you’ll regret that I was the one to find you, to help you at all – this is a product of transient folly, spurred on by the spittle –”

“Please spare me from the precious coddling, it doesn’t suit you at all.”

Astarion spits the words out with venom. He wants to touch Gale so badly he might throw up, and for a second he’s sure that Gale is going to get up and walk away. Good . Good, he should get up and leave. How fucking embarrassing, how utterly uncouth and vile is it of Astarion, to push himself further on a man who simply wanted to help him not writhe around in agony due to a stupid mistake he made?

But Gale.

Gale – he doesn’t make a single move, his body might as well be frozen as he only offers a shaky breath, hand falling down to his side. Astarion can’t let another second pass him by, just in case Gale does come to his senses and Astarion doesn’t have the strength to accept it. He tugs his britches down to his thighs and Gale’s cock springs out against his stomach, already leaking and waiting at attention for him.

He swears there’s two versions of himself – one in control of the body, the other one floating outside– Astarion can see through another perspective as he drools, spit leaking onto Gale’s hard cock; he can hear the exact second when it hits the tip. He slobbers more saliva in his hand, then spreads it all along the veiny length, admiring the difference compared to his own pale cock – it’s not as long, but it’s curved, and thick enough that Astarion practically feels the phantom weight of it already in his throat.

His thumb dips over the dribbling tip, swiping over beads of precum. Astarion is mesmerized by the sight of it, by the erratic breathing from the man under him. It’s like he’s been bestowed a holy gift — and it’s all overwhelming for someone as impious as Astarion to accept it, but accept it he will. He drinks it all in at first, savoring the way he slowly works his fist; base to tip, then tip tortuously slow back down to base. Then, he speeds up with a fervor, and that’s when Gale’s hands reach to fold over his — and he’s so entranced he doesn’t even look up.

But it’s not that Gale makes him stop. He doesn’t make him pull off from him. He doesn’t even say anything at all. He just forces Astarion to slow down.

They're like that for a while, quiet, two pairs of hands moving up and down together, making the maddening lust inside of Astarion simmer and boil. The slick sounds and the way that Gale’s chest quickly rises and falls threatens to set Astarion ablaze if he doesn’t get his mouth around his cock immediately .

“Did Mystra ever deign to get on her knees for her darling little mage?”

“She— she is the Mother of Magic , Astarion,” Gale chides him, like he is some kind of unruly child.

“That’s a no, then.”

He takes his left hand off and pins one of Gale’s hands to his side and leans in to trace his lips along the fat head of Gale’s cock. The groan that falls from Gale’s lips makes it obvious that it’s been a long, long time since anyone, no less Mystra, has shown the worshiper what it means to be worshiped.

Poor Gale. A man who has had the unique privilege of making astral love with a literal Goddess, and yet, he is so starved of basic touch. Astarion feverishly contemplates what it means to be devout as he licks a slow stripe up Gale’s cock, savoring the taste of vaguely herbal skin, tongue lingering on the veins that line his length. Mystra be damned – Astarion will find out how it feels to hold Gale in his hands and pull tautly at all his strings.To desire and to be desired, oh, isn’t it all the same, so foreign in their intertwining? It’s a near violent, possessive urge: the need for Gale to remember the way his tongue works like a prayer, to recite it over and over in his memory long after tonight.

He realizes, grimly, that Gale will be the first living, free person to remember him in this way.

Astarion then looks up through his lashes, dismayed to see Gale’s expression: curious but somewhat flat, like he’s simply observing. Writing mental notes to review later. That’s certainly not an expression Astarion has ever seen while in this delicate position, and he decides he’s not fond of it – it better change, he thinks, before he says something needlessly cruel. He slides the head of Gale’s cock between his lips, before closing them around the crown; then, he drags his tongue along the underside and then up the slit, tasting the droplets of precum pooling at the top. He watches Gale the entire time, unblinking, and he hums with satisfaction when Gale’s eyes widen in awe; his attention shifting to suck all around the leaking cock, making it messy with spit and flat tongue.

“Gods above,” Gale whispers, voice raspy, hands sliding up to his silvery curls. Astarion groans, closing his eyes, letting the fingers in his hair guide his motions, slurping and tightening his mouth when he feels Gale involuntarily jerk against it. “This – ah, this , isn’t any form of gratitude I’m familiar with.”

Astarion hollows out his mouth and slides his cock all the way back, so far down his throat that Gale makes an incoherent noise. The sounds of Gale teetering on the edge of his hushed composure is too much for his over-stimulated brain – Astarion juts his hand down to his still viciously hard cock, tugging at it harshly. What is a prayer compared to the sanctity of Gale’s moans? They’re such sweet, hesitant little cracks under the way Astarion’s throat works like it wants to wring his cock out completely dry.

Astarion’s head wobbles from it all. Is he really after Gale’s cum or is it still his blood? Maybe he’s only after some of the sanity he’s currently missing, rattling around in Gale’s brain. Maybe it’s all of the above, everything. He gasps for air as he pulls away, long strands of spit and precum connecting his mouth to Gale’s cock.

“Tell me, Gale,” Astarion grins like a madman, pupils so blown that there’s just a sliver of crimson around the rims. “Is the regret settling in yet?”

“Yes,” Gale groans, frustration lacing his tone. Astarion’s face falters at the answer and his stomach almost drops, but then he feels fingers grasping around his curls. “I regret knowing that mouth — it’s completely wicked.”

“You’re not a liar, right?” Astarion asks, fluttering kisses all around Gale’s cock. “Have you thought about my mouth before?”

Gale nearly hisses in disapproval at the question: “ Astarion .”

“You have, haven’t you?”

“Anyone would, when you’re constantly boasting about your skills ,” Gale grimaces, as if admitting such a thing is painful.

Astarion nail’s scrape against the base of Gale’s cock, causing him to tense against his grasp. He’s not sure why he needs to hear this so badly. “Have you touched yourself, thinking of me?”

Gale is breathless, but he gives him a straight answer, no wit involved.

“Yes.”

Something snaps in Astarion at the admission and his hands shake when they go to tug Gale’s pants further down to his ankles, eliciting a surprised groan from him. Astarion pulls him apart and palms his ass, watching as he shudders, then dives in with a long, messy lick along his perineum. He laps at him, rolling his tongue around the tight rim of muscles, then sinks inside, burying his tongue in while Gale’s whole body shakes under him. Astarion’s cock leaks as he buries his tongue in and out, completely and blindly overtaken by desire. He's frantic and needy as he alternates between sucking sloppy kisses against the rim and intense licking; one hand hooking under Gale’s knee to lift him, the other snaking down to grasp Gale's cock to pump it in tandem with each lap. He listens as Gale’s breathing becomes more raw and ragged as he pulls at Astarion’s hair.

“Astarion,” Gale strains, “ Astarion, please, just –”

The moan that tumbles out from Astarion feels like it has been punched out of him. Oh, he thinks, how lovely – Gale has never sounded better than with Astarion’s name on his lips, it’s such beautiful pleading — he could get used to it.

His original goal was to make Gale come apart under his tongue, but he thinks of something else, another wicked way to make the mage fall apart, to come closer to the same raving lunacy that Astarion is experiencing. One that involves less mental juggling of hand and mouth. Astarion pulls his mouth away, pushes forward and climbs onto his lap. They look at each other with a shared gasp when their slick, aching cocks meet, rubbing together.

“You– we– we should stop.” Gale strains, angling to push him away. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

Astarion scoffs, sinking further over him. “I know exactly what I’m doing to you.” Gale’s cock twitches against his and he licks his lips, baring his teeth as he simpers. “And you like it.”

“This – this could be too much for the orb in my chest – no matter how stabilized it is. I could be in danger of exploding, quite literally.”

Sweet Gale, exaggerating and trying to do the right thing, however late – and fruitless – at this point. If they stop now , what difference does it make?

“What a delightful death we could have,” Astarion ignores him, before he sways his hips and lines their cocks even closer together.

Gale whines as Astarion reaches over to put his palms on top of Gale’s, guiding them to wrap around both of their cocks. He gathers up more spit in his mouth to drool over each one; they both shudder as they squeeze their lengths together, sticky cock against sticky cock, threads of precum connecting their heads during the seconds they separate. Their cocks slide together, slippery with Astarion’s spit and Gale’s precum, rocking jointly in an ungraceful motion. Gale’s clearly overly stimulated, but Astarion doesn’t let up, he can’t even if he wanted to – he is a man, no, a creature possessed – he pumps faster, rougher, and makes their cocks push up harder into their palms.

“Astarion,” Gale chokes out, and he sounds so wrecked, it’s almost enough to convince Astarion that he’s under the influence of the same spittle as well. Gale’s head hits backwards on his pillow, eyes rolling as Astarion’s wild stare burns deep into him, unable to look away from his face. “Ah, I can’t –”

“You can,” Astarion breathes, stroking and tightening their grips on their cocks painfully. “There’s absolutely nothing you can’t do. You’re the great Gale of Waterdeep. Bí buachaill maith, agus tar chugam.”

Be a good boy, and come for me.

Immediately, Gale keens and his whole body lifts off, thick pearly streaks of his cum spraying across his stomach and chest. Astarion quickly follows with his own orgasm, panting, drooling over Gale, eyes fluttering with satisfaction. “There you go,” Astarion breathes, milking Gale through his tremors, nearly unphased by the way his own muscles constrict and release like a spring. “You deserve it for being so helpful. My little laoch .” My little hero.

And even after Gale is done, when he’s shaking and cumdrunk from emptying himself, Astarion strokes his raw and still hard length against Gale’s softening cock, playing with the cum pooling between them. Astarion swipes his sticky fingers through their cum and brings them to his lips, sliding them deep into his mouth. He makes a show of lapping between his fingers, holding eye contact with Gale, who is so delightfully flushed he looks like he can barely breathe. Gods, he is so pretty like this.

“When were you going to tell me you were so delicious?”

Gale shudders in sensitivity as Astarion goes back to swirling his thumb over Gale’s cockhead, rubbing up and down their cocks. He’s so unbearably hard, he thinks madly that he’s going to have to slit his wrists and force some of his tainted blood into Gale’s mouth to make him understand. “Astarion, for the Gods sake,” Gale stutters, trying to regain his coherency and attempting to pull away. “I’m not in an altered state like you – t-there’s nothing left from me.”

The utterly detestable thought of ignoring Gale crosses his mind, and Astarion is tempted to listen to it. To give into the sickly demand of his body. He thinks he would kill for it, could kill for it: to flip Gale over and hook his fingers around his pink lips and plunge his cock inside and fuck him deep until there’s nothing left, nowhere to go, until one of them – it doesn’t matter which – sobs from it, passes out from it.

No, he thinks, horrified.

Rational. Be rational. Think.

It’s the spittle.

He needs it gone , Astarion tells himself, it’s making him drag this out, glossing over the uncomfortable reality that’s bound to settle in between them after all is said and done. His jaw tenses as he looks down at Gale, nervous, jelly-soft, not anywhere near fucked out like Astarion desperately wants.

“Fine, fine. I think there’s another way I could flush the rest out…” Astarion murmurs, eyeing Gale’s neck.

“My blood ? Let me remind you that it's not exactly a delicacy, Astarion.”

“It doesn’t matter – the weave magic pulsing through has to be strong enough to combat what’s in my body.”

“If you think you can choke it down,” Gale takes a deep inhale. “Far be it from me to prolong your… condition. Intriguing to see how my blood interacts with yours, given the current circumstances, but don’t expect me to do anything if it happens to set you on fire, or something of the sort…”

There is no gentleness to it – no trepidation like the night when Astarion first grazed his two tips against Tav’s neck. Hardly a second passes by before his sharp nails dig into Gale’s shoulders, pinning him down, fangs sinking into his neck with reckless abandon. Astarion draws in deep, greedy pulls of blood and Gale’s pulsing life source gushes into his mouth and down his throat, bizarre and laced with a sharp, arcane bitterness. He chokes after the first few gulps, pulling away to suck in air, “Hells –”

Gale wobbles his head at him. Despite the pain in his neck, he’s concerned.

“Astarion, are you–”

He snakes his fingers through Gale’s hair and forcefully yanks his head back, baring his neck again. Astarion’s teeth pierces the flesh once more, latching on and swallowing despite the intensity of it prickling down his throat like jagged shards of glass, driven solely by the way Gale’s blood thrums with furious energy. Small trails of blood drip out from his mouth, sliding down his chin as he desperately drinks and drinks. He delights in the whimpers it draws from Gale and rubs his cock against his stomach, angling for another release like an animal. Astarion feels like he could suck the very soul out of Gale, steal it for himself, fit it right within his chest, he wants to, he wants to, he wants to. When Gale slides a hand up his abdomen and wraps his fingers around his cock, a moan gurgles from Astarion’s throat, and his thoughts fizzle out as he completely surrenders to the feeling.

His body surges forward with all the grace of a rabid creature as Gale pumps his cock vigorously and clumsily, biting down pained noises as Astarion sucks and sucks from the juncture of his neck. He groans something guttural, and then, he comes so hard his vision blacks out entirely. His cock shoots out ropes of cum across Gale’s body, marking his thighs and stomach, causing a sticky, mess between them.

The world finally, finally starts to slowly realign.

He feels utterly weightless as he retracts his fangs from Gale’s tender flesh. They’re both perspiring profusely, sweat pouring from their bodies, panting against each other in the stillness of his tent. When his ears stop buzzing, he can hear Gale’s thundered pulse ringing a vibrant rhythm in his ears and – it’s beautiful. It’s so alive . Astarion doesn’t want to mourn the loss of it yet, holding on to that crackly feeling beating unsteady around him. He presses their chests and thighs together, bringing a trembling hand up, smearing what’s left of the blood on his jaw into his mouth, pressing it along his tongue and against his gums.

“Your blood tastes so…” Astarion closes his eyes. He mulls it over, tracing around the ridges of his mouth, under the tip of his fangs. “It’s unlike anything I’ve ever had . I’m not sure what the right word would be. Nauseating. Or perhaps revolting?” “Don’t act like I didn’t caution you.”

“Rancid? Putrid? Could be used as a torture method for prisoners of war?”

“Alright, you’ve made your point very clear. I sincerely apologize that my blood is not to your refined taste.”

“Hmm. Well. Taste can be acquired.”

Astarion leans his head in and licks at the wound, contemplating it as Gale shivers around him, a hand snaking up to his waist with a firm squeeze.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. If you think that’s happening again,” Gale says, with the world’s worst conviction, “You’re sorely mistaken.” He waves his shaky hand, muttering a spell quietly, and then, the both of them are clean from the mess they've made of each other.

Even though he’s wired , Astarion’s simultaneously exhausted. He could retort something about how Gale should be afraid – should feel absolutely foolish – now that he’s gotten a taste of what it means to be filled with such special, arcane energy. Now that he knows how it feels to actually enjoy making someone come undone under him. That perhaps Gale has made an addict out of him, in more ways than one.

He could tell him all that, and it would all be true. But he’ll settle for being honest about something much more mundane.

“You know what was good?”

“Do tell me, Astarion, I’m dying to hear all your revelations tonight.”

“For once, everyone was right about one thing. Your stew, darling, it was delicious, I’ll never doubt your culinary skills again.”

“Well, I already knew that, but I’m glad you’re admitting it. Maybe next time you won’t run away if I happen to offer you some sourdough.”

“Only if you leave the bread slicing to someone else,” Astarion snorts as he draws away from the nape of Gale’s neck, exposing the fresh wound to air. He pushes himself off from his chest and falls to the side, draping his legs lazily around the other man’s legs, resting a head on his shoulder.

“I’m completely drained – pun intended, ” Gale mumbles, “And not too righteous to admit that I can't keep my eyes open…”

There is so much of Gale in his veins that Astarion is sure that he will burst if he moves even an inch, that it will all leak out of his chest, a violaceous firecracker just waiting to erupt from every pore in his body. Yet it’s the way that his legs are gracelessly hooked around Gale’s thighs that makes it all die down. He wraps himself a little more around the sanctuary of Gale’s body, sinking into the embrace. There’s no chance that he’s getting up any time soon; he’s on a cloud, bathed in sunlight, and there’s no more scorching pain. Just warmth, and only the right amount of it.

Three breaths are all it takes for Gale to slip into the realm of sleep, and Astarion stiffens at the unfamiliar concept of spending the night with him. “Gale,” he whispers.

Even his name fizzes on Astarion’s tongue.

When Gale doesn’t stir, Astarion thinks it would be unkind to disturb him any further. Not that being kind really matters at all to him, but, well. I’ll blame it on the spittle in the morning, he thinks, hypnotized by the gentle, barely there rhythm of Gale’s heartbeat and the rapid torrent of magic coursing through his own veins.

Before he realizes it, he slips away too.

#i'm honestly so nervous to post this be gentle with me lmao #bloodweave #gale/astarion #gale #astarion #baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #baldur's gate fanfiction #baldur's gate gale #baldur's gate astarion #porcelainfic #gale of waterdeep #astarion ancunin #gale x astarion #astarion x gale #galestarion

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archandshri · 3 months

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9th feb '24 - [arch] characters, interactions and emotion - making a mini webcomic

Gahhhh Shri this has been an absolutely crazy couple of weeks!!!! Hope you are doing well :)) First of all, WOW! You have a lot of goals, and I’m sure you’ll get them done! I’ve worked a lot on my graphic design during the process of making Winter Wellbeing. If you wanna see a blog post dedicated just to that, I can do so! It would be cool to compare notes on the approaches we take for graphic layouts. If you wanna share your knowledge of camera skills when you build that up that would be awesome 😭😭

It’s been a tough few weeks, art wise. I have been reflecting on my process, motivations to create, the ego and all the baggage that’s lumped into the creative process for me. It turns out there’s a lot. I took some space from my illustration practise (literally for a weekend!) and began to realise how dysfunctional it is. I’ve been writing a lot about that so there may be a larger piece of writing coming about that at some point (no promises!!)

But for now, let's talk about little successes!

I’ve been playing with some characters for a while but I’d hit a bit of a block with the plot. I realised the expectation of having a finished project of high quality soon is unrealistic, and an unhealthy expectation to put on myself. I rarely give myself time to play with concepts for a long time and let the characters, plot and interactions evolve naturally. Maybe this in part came from sticking to the short university module turnaround. I noticed that that short turnaround was causing a lot of block, so I have decided to bench it as a comic for now and focus on using it as a playground - falling in love with the characters, creating stories and drawing them for fun. Maybe years down the line I’ll make them into a comic - we shall see!

I *tried* to do hourly comics day this year and it didn’t quite work for me. I think I made 3 comics? And then got distracted with a bigger project that ended up taking a week or so to complete. Let’s have a look at it, shall we?

[you can find the full version here]

First of all, it’s based on an unfinished fanfiction I started a couple of months ago, which was mostly bad, but there was one nice scene that I liked and wanted to expand on. I started by having a look at the script I wrote and thumbnailing on the iPad. I’m away from home at the mo and usually would prefer to do most of my artwork traditionally, but because I don’t have access to a scanner, the whole process was digital this time. A lot of the pages got scrapped because the dialogue wasn’t necessary, and I’m not drawing pages that aren’t necessary.

some more development screenshots

I thought a lot about posing during the process, acting the scenes out in my mind and sometimes physically, really understanding the emotions of the characters, why they’re saying what they’re saying, their tone and how to convey that though their body language and expression (i find grian really annoying normally [affectionate] but I want this grian to step on me).

Pearl was hard with this because she’s quite erratic and unpredictable in this series, so I wanted her to switch from raw explodey anger to playful jabs at Grian. I’m hoping this comes across as somewhat insane, rather than tonally off and inconsistent. I did super enjoy drawing her and her explosive nature though, especially in comparison to Grian’s coldness.

I played with levels and monotone colour too - I’m not working with multiple colours much at the moment so I’m able to focus on things like values composition, characters and backgrounds. My skills limit the kind of stories I can tell currently, so I’m working to improve those foundations. Maybe when I’m back in the riso studio I can play with colours a little more.

Colours - despite the simple pallete it gets a bit nerdy here.I stuck to specific flat percentages for most of it - Pearl’s hair and Grians jumper are 60%, Grian’s hair and Pearl’s cloak are 20%. Then I added a 14% layer for shadows, using a ahrd blend eraser tool for highlights, making the images quite dark. I fill a layer with texture from Forystr’s riso brush for procreate, and turn it into a 40% opacity colour dodge layer. This gives it some much needed texture and makes the lighting feel low and nighttimecore. It also pushes the values to look really nice - I tend to be too scared to push them by myself.

I tried a few different colour layers to get a *vibe* but settled on a low percentage riso blue in a colour layer. All layers besides the riso blue are in a riso black, colour picked from a riso colour pallete. I learnt these tools - using percentages to get good values - from working with risograph. I really recommend having a look at these techniques and doing some monotone work. It's really improved by character designs, page layouts and compositions.

That's all from me today, though I have had MANY other thoughts over the past two weeks about creating, but perhaps we'll dive into them another time. If you (or anyone else) has any questions, hit me up with a reblog or an ask and I will get right to it. Lovely to hear from you! Hope your art is going great too :)) Arch :)

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ornii · 1 year

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Bitterly Beautiful, Part 7

Chapter 7: I see you for who you are.

Jericho was crying this day, the tears of Rain poured down heavy upon this funeral. Many Nevermore and Jericho residents stand at attention for the funeral of Mayor Walker, Enid being comforted by Ajax, (Y/n) stands next to them, silent. Wednesday was a bit further away, her focus on (Y/n), she wants to take the first steps forward, but it was too late. Yoko, a student of Nevermore and a Vampire with pitch black glasses steps up next to him, she gives him an honest smile and he tries to reciprocate. Unfortunately a certain Wednesday was on his mind too much. Wednesday took a step back, and simply watched.

"I enjoy funerals. I've been crashing them since I was old enough to read the obituary section. Mayor Walker was murdered, and I know the killer is here, standing innocently among us, plotting their next move. And watching everything I do. I know I'm close to the truth. I have all the pieces of the jigsaw. I just need to slot them into place. I must look past the tears and masks of grief. Until now, I may have been outmatched and outmaneuvered, but the final gambit has yet to be played. The killer will make a mistake, and I'll be ready." Wednesday senses someone is watching her, she tilts her head left to a shadowy figure who quickly disperses. She gives chase into the forest. She reaches a clearing and looks around. The man suddenly drops from a tree and Wednesdays Umbrella was a sword, She hurls it at the man, who catches the blade with a form of electricity. Wednesday for the first time smiles wide at this, knowing who it is.

"Uncle Fester." She said, the man removes his hat to a bald head, pale skin and slightly rounded eyes.

"How long have you been stalking me?" She asks.

"Just blew into town this morning and was hit by a wave of nostalgia."

"I thought you didn't go to Nevermore."

"I didn't. Your dad got all the brains. But I used to drop in on him. Usually from the ceiling with a dagger clutched between my teeth. Just to keep him on his toes."

"Of course." Wednesday smirks.

"He filled me in on what's been going on. Monsters, murder, mayhem. What fun! I told him I had a job in Boston, but I'd be checking up on you."

"What kind of job?"

"The kind that means I need somewhere to lay low for a couple days." Fester said, which gives Wednesday an idea. She takes fester to the Bee Hive, without Eugene there; it's dead silent.

"This place belongs to a friend."

"You've actually made a friend. That poor kid will be going home in a body bag." Wednesday and Fester enter the room, and Fester sees the box of bees.

"Oh. I like a hideout that comes with snacks." Fester opens up the hive box..

"Those bees are hibernating. They're practically Eugene's children. That means do not eat them!" She says, and Fester frowns and puts the Bee back.

"You know, when you give me that death stare of disapproval, you remind me of your mother. Speaking of scary things, you know what kind of monster you're dealing with?"

"I haven't been able to identify it." Wednesday shows the accurate drawing Xavier made, Fester gazed at it.

"Ooh. It's called a Hyde."

"As in Jekyll and Hyde?"

"Mm-hmm." Fester nods joyfully.

"You've seen one before?"

"Oh yeah. In '83, during my vacay at the Zurich Institute for the Criminally Insane. Where I got my first lobotomy. But you know lobotomies. They're like tattoos. Can't just get one."

"Tell me about the Hyde."

"Ah. Olga Malacova. Jeez. She had it all. Beauty, brains, and a penchant for necrophilia. Olga was a concert pianist, until one night she transformed in the middle of a Chopin sonata. Massacred a dozen audience members. And three music critics." Fester grins especially at that.

"What triggered her? Or did she just change on her own?"

"No idea. I only saw her in group electroshock therapy."

"There's never been any mention of Hydes in any outcast book. And Nevermore is reputed for having the best collection."

"You try Nathaniel Faulkner's diary? Before he founded Nevermore, Faulkner traveled the world, cataloging every outcast community."

"How do you know this?"

"You think your parents can't keep their hands off each other now, oy vey. I showed up unannounced one night in Gomez's dorm room. Let's just say I wasn't interrupting a pillow fight hehehe—"

"Uncle Fester."

"Right Right Yeah."

"The diary, where is it?"

"Nightshades Library. Your dad parked me there and said I should settle in for a long stretch. And that's when I found this nifty little safe. I was hoping for a stash of cash or jewels but instead I found a diary." Fester explains, Wednesday considers this and nods.

"We'll sneak into the Nightshades Library tonight. In the meantime, lay low...If you are discovered, I will disown you and collect the reward tied to your capture."

"I'd expect nothing less." Fester responds, as Wednesday leaves, he creeps back into the bed box and Wednesday storms back in.

"Leave the bees alone." She says, Fester unfortunately agrees and leaves them alone. Wednesday returns to Nevermore, walking down a corridor past the main lobby, she catches a glimpse of (Y/n) in her eye. She halts and turns her head to his direction, he's sitting alone, until a pair of legs walk over to him as he has his head down.

"This seat taken?" A voice said, he looks up and senses a lingering of, undead. He gave a sorry smile.

"Yoko. No it's open." He says, "Thanks." She replies and sits down across next to him. They begin to chat and Wednesday slowly creeps over to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"So, Enid tells me that you're going though a bit of a "Break up." Yoko Said.

"It's not a "Break up". She Never considered me more than a tool, more like, a difference of opinion I guess." He replies and she gives him a pat on the shoulder.

"Sorry to hear that, look I need some.. help with something and I'd appreciate it if you did. Could take your mind off of Wednesday." She says, he gives a soft smile in response.

"That.. would be nice." He said, and Yoko leads him away, Wednesday fumes as she watches this, but can she truly blame (Y/n) for his actions? She returns back to her Dorm to write her novel.

"My novel started out as a twisted fiction, but somehow reality has turned it into my own personal looking glass. My visit to the Gates mansion has left me with so many questions. If Laurel Gates died 20 years ago, then who's sleeping in her bedroom? Why do they have photos of me? And what is their connection to this Hyde? Whoever it is, they're clearly willing to kill for their secret. Goody predicted this quest for answers would become a lonely pursuit. Of course, Goody's nowhere to be found when I need her. The dead can be just as annoying and unreliable as the living." Wednesday monologues, the door opens and Enid awkwardly steps in.

"Hi. Sorry, I figured you were still at Mayor Walker's wake."

"As soon as the dirt hits the coffin, I'm out."

"I can't seem to find my bottle of silver moon nail polish. Do you mind if I look around? Yoko's hosting a mani-pedi party for her crew, she's busy right now—"

"With (Y/n)." Wednesday said, folding her arms. "This is the third time in 24 hours you've forgotten something."

"So, how is everything going?"

"Solitude suits me. With no annoying distractions, I'm almost finished with my novel."

"Oh, Was I an annoying distraction?" Enid said coldly.

"You definitely had some annoying habits."

"Such as?"

"You giggle when you text, which is a 24/7 addiction."

"At least it's not a migraine-inducing typewriter hammering into my head."

"When not grinding your canines, you growl in your sleep."

"As opposed to late night cello solos?"

"You over-commit to activities, then complain about them."

"I'd take that over your obsession with all things creepy." Enid says.

“(Y/n) Isn’t creepy.” Wednesday quickly fires back.

“What?” Enid says confused and Wednesday quickly changes the subject.

"You could gas an entire village with the amount of perfume you spritz. That's just off the top of my head.l

"Guess I'm lucky with the new roomie that doesn't try to find ways to endanger literally everybody she comes into contact with. In fact, Yoko and I are so in sync that she's begging me to be her new roomie. Permanently."

"Don't let me hold you back. Enjoy your solitude, Wednesday."

"It's not solitude if you're still here." Wednesday says as Enid storms off, she's still alone, still putting up those walls. Wednesday returns back to the secret library. She heads down it, and looks around.

"Uncle Fester?" Wednesday asks.

"And Who's Uncle Fester?" She hears a voice calling and Wednesday turns around to (Y/n), who was carrying a small box.

"What are you doing here?" Wednesday asks.

"We're Not Partners, I don't have to explain myself. What's your excuse for creeping around in the middle of the night?" He asks back.

"Research." She replies.

"On the monster?" He asks.

"It's a Hyde." She responds and (Y/n) stops.

"A Hyde? They've been barred from Nevermore for years.. why would one be here?" He asks, "I assume you're tracking it?" He said.

"We're Not Partners, I don't have to explain myself." Wednesday says with her cheeky undertone. (Y/n) just scoffs at her.

"You're right, why do I even try with you? You know what—"

"I would love to hear your all seeing insight." She says, "People would be more inclined to help you if you never used them. Maybe if you were more honest—"

"Fine. You want honesty? Here it is. Your condescendingly decent attitude, dreadfully annoyingly toxic personality, and your "innocent blind kid" technique to avoid suspicion is commendable, but it's obvious you're letting your feelings get in the way of the truth. There's a monster roaming this town and you're more preoccupied with how I feel about you. It's disgusting, annoying, and tiresome."

"Of course feelings for you are tiresome. That's your problem, you think everyone is some puzzle you need to solve and crack. Humans are a lot more complicated than that, some people genuinely want to be your friend. I did. Even when you went to jail for grave digging, I was by your side. Why?" (Y/n) says.

"Because for some reason I cannot fathom or indulge, you seem to like me." Wednesday fires back. And (Y/n) just smirks.

"Liked... Past tense." He responds coldly and walks away and up the stairs, Fester drops down.

"How long have you been lurking?" Wednesday asks as Fester laughs.

"Long enough to feel the romantic tension between you two. Yowza! Seriously, you could cut it with an executioner's axe! Reminds me of your mom and dad, totally gushing with emotion! I've never seen you this mad!" Fester says smiling, Wednesday just stares morbidly at him. The thumbing of fingers stop him and he looks over at a desk to see Thing, who's less than enthusiastic.

"I'd recognize the patter of those fingertips anywhere. Hello, Thing. You can't still be mad about the Kalamazoo job. It wasn't my fault." Fester said, Thing leaps at him grabbing his neck and strangling fester, they struggle against each other as he gasps for air.

"You said you could crack that safe in 30 seconds. Five minutes later, we were still there. You're all thumbs."

"Enough." Wednesday booms with her voice, the two stop and turn to her. "Let him go. Show me the diary." she said, fester shows Wednesday a painted of an, odd hairy monster.

"Here we are. Iggy was Faulkner's right hand. Trained a generation of Nightshades. And behind Iggy Itt..." he says and pulls on the painting to reveal a safe behind it. Thing crawls along it and cracks his knuckles. Thing begins to attempt to crack the code.

"Do I have time for a snooze, or can you crack this quickly? This is turning into a replay of Kalamazoo." Fester watches until the safe clicks, Thing opens it and inside was a rustic and old journal. Wednesday takes it and they retreat up to her Dorm room.

"These are some sweet digs. How'd you swing your own single?" Fester asks, Wednesday was too busy reading the journal.

"My former roommate couldn't handle my toxic personality. Here it is." Wednesday shows Fester the journal entry.

"Faulkner describes Hydes as artists by nature, but equally vindictive in temperament. Born of mutation, the Hyde lays dormant until unleashed by a traumatic event or unlocked through chemical inducement or hypnosis. This causes the Hyde to develop an immediate bond with its liberator, who the creature now sees as its master. It becomes the willing instrument of whatever nefarious agenda this new master might propose."

"Anyone willing to unlock a Hyde is a next-level sicko."

"That means I'm not looking for one killer but two. The monster and its master." Wednesday said, suddenly there was a knock at the door. Wednesday halted and approached, the door opened to (Y/n), who was pretty calm.

"I didn't want to just barge in, in case you were changing or something. Enid was looking for her full moon silver nail polish or whatever." He says, Wednesday didn't seem too hesitant to push him out, but she was quiet.

"Can I look for it?" He asks, Wednesday side steps.

"Thanks." He says and enters, he walks to her drawer.

"Enid she's un, has requested to room with Yoko for the rest of the school year..." (Y/n) says as he picks up and sniffs a nail polish.

"She did?" Wednesday said.

"Yeah, I just wanted you to know... in case you were wondering if she'd come back."

"I would rather buy a rope."

"Of course you would...Is it really that difficult for you to admit that you made a friend, and now that she's gone you might actually miss her? Miss me?"

"I'll survive alone. I always have." Wednesday responds, (Y/n) gives up and puts on a forced smile.

"Well. I'll let her know.." he says and puts his hands in his pocket.

"Also... a favor. Could you explain to me why someone is hiding in Enids plushies?" He says, Wednesday looks a bit taken aback and (Y/n) shrugs, he turns around.

"Come out. I know you're in here." He said, he senses the odd man's heartbeat and Fester stumbles out laughing.

"Wow! And I thought I was good at sniffing things out! What are you a bloodhound?"

"No, perceptive. Who are you? And what are you doing in a teenagers bedroom?" He says, Fester offers a handshake.

"Fester, I'm Wednesdays Uncle. Nice to meetcha!" Hd says, (Y/n) sighs and accepts the handshake, Wednesday watches the lightning touch him, but (Y/n) doesn't even flinch. Fester looks a bit taken aback, (Y/n)'s grip tightens and he yanks fester in close, they're face to face.

"You touch anything of Enids, even if one plushie is out of place and I will vaporize you. All I need to do is blink and you're gone. Do I make myself clear?" (Y/n)'s demeanor has shifted radically.

"Crystal! That's on the honor of the Girl Scouts I ate!" He says still smiling, (Y/n) let's go and walks away.

"Where are you going?” Wednesday asks.

"Not to snitch on you, whatever you do, as long as Enid is okay, is not my business anymore." He says, but he stops himself and he turns to her, he has this sad longing look on him.

"Just... Be careful, please." He says before leaving, as much as he hated Wednesday for using and getting Enid in harms way, he never wanted any harm to come to Wednesday either. It's a tough spot to hate someone, but also want them to be alright. Wednesday also felt this longing, her actions forced them away from her, while she claims solitude is what she desires, her heart says otherwise. She watches him leave, before fester laughs.

"Hey! Being a solo lobo has its perks. You get to live by your own rules, do whatever you want. Just look at me! And that guys a real charmer! Gives off that real super villain Mood." Fester said, Wednesday began to heavily consider something, and asked.

"Uncle fester.. the journal said that a Hyde can be awoken by traumatic events in a person? Can a person being forcibly blinded by their parents be traumatic?" Wednesday said.

"It's.. definitely possible! I mean I'm all for capital punishment but on your own kid? Just pick random ones off the street." He says, and Wednesday simply dreaded the thought.

The Super strength, the Traumatic events, no, (Y/n), he simply couldn't be...

(Y/n) entered the cafe, and sought after a seat.

"Yo, over here!" Yoko calls out and (Y/n) smiles hearing her voice, he walks over and sits across from her. They begin to chat pretty casually, across from the building, Wednesday was staring from afar. A bit too distracted now on her monster hunting. Fester looks over to where she's looking.

"He must be a Vampire, you know they're notoriously suave."

"He's a Fomorian.."

"Oh! You already know his breed? Aren't you just fawning?" Fester says casually.

"I will make due on my threat to hand you over and get the ransom." Wednesday said, only slightly deterring her Uncle.

"Well you look more gloomy than usual, and that's saying a lot, why don't you go over there and stab her in the heart already?"

"As much joy as that would bring me, it ill use my words." Wednesday stood up and approached. For the first time in her life she felt this toxic emotion, Jealousy.

"So, just be calm, cool about it and just say it." (Y/n) said to Yoko, she nods and they both are approached by Wednesday.

"(Y/n)" Wednesday said.

"Yeah?" He responds, Wednesday looks ready to murder Yoko but keeps her composure.

"I'd... like to speak with you. Privately."

"It's okay I was just going,” Yoko says, "She's here!" She says all giddy and (Y/n) nods.

"Go get Em Tiger." He responds and Yoko leaves to follow a Nevermore girl and speak with her, (Y/n) offers a seat.

"Seats open." He says and Wednesday sits across from her.

"So, what do you want to—"

"You need to stop seeing Yoko.. now." Wednesdays Just blurts it out, which actually stuns (Y/n).

"... talk about." He finishes, he begins to stand up.

"Yeah I'm not touching thay with a ten foot pole." He says, his wrist was suddenly grasped by Wednesday.

"At least listen to what I have to say before making a decision." She says, he slowly sits back down.

"Okay... talk." He says, Wednesday takes a deep breath and can't look him in the eye so she looks down slightly at the table.

"Ever since you and Enid departed from my life things have been.. challenging. I'll admit this form of solitude does not suit me. And after much consideration I will admit it, I used you and Enid and Tyler, I should have been more forthcoming about my plans instead of just manipulating you to do my bidding, but you're no better by using Yoko to upset me." Wednesday said and (Y/n) snickers.

"If you find something about what I said humorous than please share." Wednesday sharply said, and (Y/n) just smiles.

"Wednesday... Yoko swings for the other team."

"... what do sports have to do with this?" Wednesday said and (Y/n) laughs.

"You're so clueless it's actually cute!.." he says, Wednesday's eyes could stare daggers into his chest with her glare.

"Wednesday.. Yoko likes.. girls, Not guys." He says, which shocks Wednesday, she just stares at him.

"I.... Was not informed of that." She said, (Y/n) folds his arms and leans back.

"Everyone knows, You know men live for the day they can make a girl look stupid, and god this was so worth it. Wednesday, Yokos not into guys, she came to me asking for advice on how to ask a girl out, Divina, Kent's twin. That's why I've been hanging around with her so much. So, have any other insightful questions?" He asks smirking, Wednesday sighed wearily and began to muster up the courage to ask him.

"Yes, one more... would you, consider.. would you consider the date you planned?" She says, and he smirks even harder.

"You'll have to say the magic words~" (Y/n) says and Wednesday scowls after him.

"I'll place rusty thumbtacks all over your bedroom floor."

"That's not the word~"

"They'll never find your body.."

"Nope.. cmon I know you can do it." He said, Wednesday fiddles with her dress, gripping it on her hands as she musters up the guts to say it so cutely to him.

"Would you... would.. will you let me go on a date with you.. P-please?" She says, he smiled so honestly and nodded.

"Wednesday I'd love to spend time with you. plus I Figure after what happened last time, you owe me." He says.

"I can't sneak off of campus. All eyes are on me."

"Then we won't...Crackstone's Crypt." He stands up to leave and gives her one last quip.

"And I do forgive you Wednesday..." he said before leaving, and a bit of relief was finally washed over her. Night falls and Wednesday and (Y/n) stand before the crypt.

"Last time somebody threw a surprise for me here, it did not go as planned." She said.

"Yeah.. my bad about that, But you do have to close your eyes."

"Are you serious?"

"Oh you can't see for like 40 seconds? How tragic." He says, Wednesday says nothing and closed her eyes.

(Y/n) slowly leads her inside, "Okay. Watch your step. Wait here. Close your eyes. Okay. Easy. Right here. Okay, you can open your eyes now." He said, she opens them to a Punic, black cloth, even blacker basket of food. And what seems to be a makeshift stage.

"No one's ever taken you on a date inside a crypt before? How do you feel about, Macbeth?" He said.

"It's one of my favorites? Even Thing doesn't know that." Wednesday said.

"I had a feeling you'd like it because someone gets decapitated at the end. Seems on brand for you. But this ain't a movie. .." He said. He cracks his knuckles and smirks, he turns to the Stange and extends his hands. He then takes out a knife and cuts his hand very slightly. He places a drop of blood on the ground.

"ná bac leis an mbás thú! go dúisigh tú ar aird mo ghlao!"

"May death never stop you! May you awaken to the head of my call!"

Wednesday watches as dirt begins to move on its own, piling up and turning into bones! And more bones! Soon skeletons stood before them and Wednesday was actually amazed, she smiles, they even smell like death.

"Now, Macbeth, Please”, he says, one skeleton shifts it's body and begins to speak as if in a play.

"When ...shall we three meet again

In thunder, lightning, or in rain?"

The play begins, Wednesday watches with a Ural amazement in her eyes, seeing skeletons made of dirt reenact Macbeth is a treat not many get.

The story ends as per usual, the severed head of Macbeth is presented to Malcom. The play ends and the skeletons crumble into dirt, the two stood up after the play and walk to the exit.

"That was... Horrific..Thank you." She says, (Y/n) sighs and they stop and turn to each other.

"Wednesday, I don't mean to be so abrupt about this but, I think it's best if you know that. I truly do care for you, and I want us to be more than friends, so much more.." he begins.

"You'll snap out of it." She replies, and he gently takes her hand.

"Please...Don't do that don't Discount my feelings as puppy love."

"I'm not friend material, let alone more-than-friend material. I will ignore you, stomp on your heart, and always put my needs and interests first."

"You did.. and I wanted to hate you, but you know I'd stand by your side if you told me the truth, If you let me help you instead of using me."

"It's not going to work. I almost killed you." She says.

"Heh, Formorians Are notoriously hard to kill, but you Genuinely felt bad for it, means you can be better, I want you to be better."

"(Y/n)... we're incompatible.. and I think you'd want more out of life than someone who hates it" Wednesday said, (Y/n) looks down, he's been waiting for this moment and he tilts his head back up to look at her and shoots her right in the heart with his words.

"Well that's too bad Wednesday Addams... you think I'd want someone who wants more out of life ? Well... you're everything that I want!" He responds with so much confidence. She just, looks at him, he slowly leans in, ready to throw everything into the wind for her, Wednesday, almost as if drawn by her own emotion does as well, their lips inches away from finally getting to meet each other, but life has other plans and someone bursts into the crypt, the sheriff. He sees the two teenagers and they quickly turn to him.

"What the hell?" He says, "There's a canoe missing. Figured he might be on Raven Island. I'm not going to ask what this is, but I never saw the two of you here. You got it?" he says before leaving them there. (Y/n) just laughs as Wednesdays pulls her hands from him.

"So... shall I escort you home?" He asks.

"I'll be fine. I need time to.. think." She said.

"Heh, okay.. I'll be seeing you." He says, he cheers slightly under his breath. His first real date and it went perfectly! But some dreams for others, are just nightmares for another.

Wednesday returns to her room to see the place has been ransacked. "Thing?" She asks, and comes across him, stabbed to a pillar with a knife and quickly removed the blade from him. She only had one plan and ran for the bee hive. She storms into the room.

"Fester? Fester, help! Help! Help! Thing's not moving. He was stabbed! Get him on the table!" Fester, a bit confused quickly begins to shock thing. Trying to revive him as only Wednesday can watch distraught. But no avail, his body is still stiff.

"..He's gone, Wednesday."

"No, he's not. Thing. If you can hear me... if you die, I will kill you. Go again. Now! Again, please!" Fester continues to shock him, but it's still silence, a wave of actual pain hits Wednesday, a single tear was beginning to form, until things thumbs began to flex. A look of relief washes over Wednesday.

"For a minute, we thought you'd picked your last lock, buddy." Fester says

"Who did this to you? Knife from behind the back. Cowards. I promise that whoever did this to you will suffer. And it will be slow, long, and excruciatingly painful." Wednesday wipes a tear from her face. "I'll stitch him back up. They found your motorbike, so... the sheriff won't be far. You need to go. Maybe next time steal something a little less conspicuous."

"Where's the fun in that? All right. I'll lay low here tonight, keep an eye on the patient, and I'll skedaddle in the morning."

"I guess I'll see you at your arraignment or the next family reunion."

"You'll always be my favorite, Wednesday."

"Be sure to tell Pugsley that. It'll give him a complex." Wednesday smiles so slightly to her uncle, but she had to face the music, and Weems.

"I'm guessing it's not some kind of random prank." Weems said.

"Whoever ransacked my room also stole Nathaniel Faulkner's diary."

"That's supposed to be safely locked in the Nightshades Library."

"So you do know about that diary, which means you also know the monster we're after is called a Hyde." Wednesday said, it was only her and Weems, which let Weems finally relax.

"Faulkner spent years studying Hydes. He wanted to determine if they were just mindless killers or conscious of their actions."

"What was his conclusion?"

"He was killed by a Hyde before he could reach one. Others tried to carry on his research, but the Hydes were too unpredictable and violent. They were officially banned from Nevermore 30 years ago."

"All of this time, you've known the monster was a Hyde. Why didn't you tell the sheriff?"

"Because then Nevermore is done. Over. Shut for good. And that's not happening on my watch. But I'm not the only one withholding. If you suspect someone, you need to tell me."

"Why? All you've ever done is gaslight and obstruct me. You don't care how many people die, as long as your reputation is safe."

"I am protecting our Nevermore family, which also includes you, Ms. Addams." Weems responds a bit, forcefully, knowing what she's coming across, could finally be the key she needs to take the Hyde and it's master down. The next morning (Y/n) began his walk through Nevermore before being cut off by Bianca.

"Come with me. I have information about Mayor Walker's murder." She says, (Y/n) follows to the library and senses more in the room, Wednesdays and Lucas, the Mayors son. He shows Wednesday the photos.

"Printed these off my dad's computer. Seems he was trying to track down someone. Laurel Gates? Looks like he started right after Outreach Day."

"Must have recognized her there."

"According to British police, Laurel was presumed drowned, but no body was ever recovered."

"The Gates mansion was purchased a year ago by a 90-year-old candy heiress. She then mysteriously died and gave all of her belongings to her caregiver, Teresa L. Glau." Wednesday said, "Who?" Bianca asks.

"It's an anagram." (Y/n) explains. "For what?" Bianca and Lucas ask

"Laurel Gates." (Y/n) and Wednesday say in unison.

"Laurel secretly buys her old house and then comes back to Jericho as someone else. Why?" Bianca asked.

"Revenge on all the people she blames for her family's misfortunes. Your father. The coroner. My parents."

"And Most of all, Nevermore... but How does the monster fit into all of this?" (Y/n) thinks.

"The monster is a Hyde. It's doing Laurel's bidding. She controls it." Wednesday said,

"So, you think Laurel is using a Hyde to kill off Nevermore and Jericho residents responsible? But, who has the power to unlock a Hyde?" Bianca asks.

“The best guess would be a Psychiatrist or a..” (Y/n) says, and stops himself, he turns in the direction of Wednesday.

“Or a Therapist…”

"Wednesday, we don't have an appointment scheduled today."

Kinbott, the therapist stood before Wednesday, a black crow was in the window. Watching.

" I wanted to return something. I found it in your old childhood room." she shows Laurel a Music box.

"I know you're Laurel Gates, and you've come back to Jericho to seek your revenge. And so did Mayor Walker, which is why you had to kill him. Who better to slide in and out of the hospital undetected than a psychiatrist under the guise of visiting another patient?"

"...You're not actually accusing me of murdering the mayor?"

"The roses you left in Eugene's room were your mistake. They're the same variety I found near your childhood bed."

"Wednesday...I honestly have no idea what you're talking about."

"There's only one reason an overqualified psychiatrist like yourself would settle in the inconsequential backwater that is Jericho. It allowed you to crawl through the troubled, young minds of outcasts until you found one that you can manipulate to exact your revenge."

"You know what? I don't have time to deal with your delusional fantasies. I have a patient emergency."

"Who? Xavier? I know all about the secret sessions you've been holding in your car. I also found the cave where you've been holding sessions to unlock his Hyde."

"You are so out of line."

"Do you know how violently unpredictable a Hyde can be? It was your plan to have Xavier committed before he could turn on you too."

"Wednesday, you need help. More help than I can give you." Kinbott begins to dial her phone.

"Who you calling? Xavier?"

"Judge Reynolds. I'm going to recommend you stay in a juvenile psychiatric facility."

"Oh, please. You and I both know I'd be running that place in a week. Time's up, Laurel." Wednesday leaves, as the bird continues to watch. A bit a ways away, (Y/n) sits calmly, awaiting the crow to return.

"Principal Weems, it's Valerie Kinbott. Wednesday Addams just barged into my office. I wasn't aware that Wednesday had a session today. She didn't, and her behavior was completely irrational!" She yells before she hears something in the bathroom. She opens it up, and that spelled her end. (Y/n) stands as Wednesday approaches.

"All went well?" He asks.

"According to plan." She responds, he extends his arm as the crow lands and begins to caw rapidly.

"Yes I saw— what.. when? What!?" (Y/n) yells, which stuns Wednesday. He bolts off back to Kinbott.

"(Y/n)? (Y/n)?!" Wednesday follows suit and they push open the door, blood spilled past it and onto the ground. And Wednesday sees it splatter the walls. (Y/n) smells the scent of blood in the room, and the slowly cooling corpse before them. (Y/n) turns to Wednesday.

"No more games Wednesday, you know who the Hyde is.. we need to stop them. Now.

Xavier returns back to his dark shop and creeps in. He turns on the light to Wednesday sitting there, with a knife in the table.

"You know what? You need to stay out of my space."

"You need to take your own advice. You left that in my room." Wednesday Jams the knife into the table. "Actually, you left it in Thing. How long have you been seeing Kinbott?"

"Have you...What am I saying? Of course you have. You've been having (Y/n) and his creepy crowd spy on me, right? 'Cause I'm the villain in your fantasy. My father thinks that my mental health is a PR problem that he needs to manage. He wanted to keep his troubled son out of the tabloids. I wasn't in your room. Believe me or don't believe me, I don't care."

"Your painting's been improving. I enjoy this one in particular." Wednesday reveals a painting of kimbott, and her face scarred.

"Feels like you really lived it."

"What do you want?"

"I'm asking the questions." Wednesday begins to show Xavier the seeming tokens from Xavier's kills.

"What is Rowan's inhaler doing in your shed? Or Eugene's glasses?"

"Whoa, whoa." Xavier said

"Or these stalker images you took of me?"

"N-No. I..."

"Don't forget your latest addition. Kinbott's necklace."

"Somebody planted that stuff!" Xavier yells walking towards Wednesday, just then, the police barge in.

"Freeze! Drop the knife!"

"Down on your knees. Cuff him." You have the right to remain silent. Appreciate the help, Addams." The sheriff said, which just enrages Xavier.

"You! You framed me! I'm being set up. I shoulda let Rowan kill you." Xavier is cuffed and taken into custody, the night continues and Wednesday returns to her dorm. Which Enid was there.

"Hey."

"You're back."

"I'm gone for a few days, the place gets trashed, and Thing almost dies. Someone's gotta look out for you two."

"What happened to rooming with Yoko?"

"Yoko's great. I just decided I needed a few more boundaries." Enid prepares to tape the floor but Wednesday stops her. "Skip the tape."

"Don't tell me Wednesday Addams is mellowing out."

"Never. More like evolving."

"Well, one inch of duct tape at a time."

"Why the sudden change of heart Enid?"

"Because we work. We shouldn't, but we do. It's like some sort of weird, friendship anomaly. Everything you said about me is true...But I don't apologize for it. Not anymore, when I was first here, (Y/n) told me something that I never understood until now.. that, I'm me, and it's okay to be me, to never apologize for being the person who I am and to never let anyone change that. It's just who I am." Enid says so, confidently.

"Thing said he missed you."

"I missed him too. I'm sorry about Xavier."

"I'm not. He's a liar and a killer. Besides... there's nothing quite like the feeling of being proven right."

"Except maybe someone to share it with. Thing may have blabbed about your date with (Y/n)." Enid says winking, Wednesday just looks at her annoyed, but looks back on fond memories.

"So how'd it go?" Enid asks, Wednesday thinks about informing her of what could have happened.

"Your Surrogate brother knows how to Intrige a girl at least, I can see why you constantly battle the ideals of love and confusion about your feelings regarding him." Wednesday said which stuns Enid. "I-I don't have feelings—"

"It was interrupted." She finishes, Enid tries to play it all off. "Well maybe you should go see him? I mean you did sort of lock up his room mate." She said, and Wednesday agrees.

(Y/n) sits inside his dorm room, sensing the silence inside. He hears the door knock.

"It's open." He said, Wednesday enters and he senses her presence. He walks over and they get a bit, close.

"Are you okay? I know it must have been hard to do that to him." (Y/n) said.

"Not really, he was a murderer."

"Wow, that was a quick turn around... so, dumb question incoming—"

"I find all of your questions dumb, I just indulge you."

"Okay, so.. would you like to pick up where we left off?~" he Leans in, and this time, Wednesday isn't so hesitant herself, allowing his hand to gently caress her cheek, he risks it's all and she does as well. Their lips reach contact, and like a murder of crows their black hearts flock together. The sweet taste of black cherry on her lips, (Y/n) has never felt so happy, and Wednesday has never felt so, alive. And (Y/n) has never felt so, human. Alas, all good things come with a price. Wednesday, on contact had another vision.

She watched as (Y/n) stood to fight someone with his own pet wolf, against., Tyler! who transforms into the Hyde! The vision jumps to him crawling away from someone desperately trying to escape, and the final vision was Wednesday holding his corpse, almost as if fate was telling her that all fairytales come to a bloody end. She snaps out of it to (Y/n).

"Wednesday?! Wednesday what's wrong!" He asks, frantically, and she just stares at him.

"Of course the first boy I kiss would them show me visions of his grueling and painful death...And they say those who don't learn from history are doomed to repeat it, well...

"I hate history."

#wednesday addams x male reader #enid sinclair x male reader #wednesday #netflix #blind character #male reader #reader insert #wedensday x you #wedesnday 2022 #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x you #fluffy #angst

187 notes · View notes

fallenwhumpee · 9 months

Note

Consider, perhaps, if you want to write more pet whump: leader pet whump :D two fun tropes in one!!

:D anon

Pet

•Masterlist •

Warnings: Restrains, collar, electrocution.

Whumper tugged the chains, Leader falling onto their knees. They grunted, their throat burning. The collar was too tight, thorns in it digging into their skin.

"Watch closely. I want you to know everything I do to destroy your team."

Leader stood shakily, the chains clanging with their movements. They reluctantly looked at the table and felt their strength abandon them at the sight. Whumper kept them standing, grasping their arms harshly.

"Don't look away."

Blueprints of their base, camera shots, and notes about their routine and more.

"No," they gasped. Their voice was ragged, their throat being thorn with their hitching breaths.

"Yes. Now you will stay still as I instruct my squad."

Whumper let them go, and they collapsed like a puppet cut out of their strings, cold floor against their warm skin sending goosebumps to their spine.

They had been careful, so carefully. How could that be? After everything Leader had done to cover their tracks, how could Whumper know everything?

They felt nauseous as the room filled, Whumper's voice plotting the end of their team like a whip wrecking them. They didn't want to listen, but Whumper kept pulling their collar to look and listen. Leader couldn't cry, the collar digging more into their neck with the every sob they surpassed.

"Your team will love this." Whumper turned to them and pulled the chain up. Leader struggled to keep it loose. They were too exhausted to stand up, the thorns cutting their skin. "And I will never have to worry about them trying something foolish to take you from where you belong."

Whumper released the chains, and Leader slumped, struggling to breathe.

"Lovely." Whumper turned them with a kick. "You'll make a good pet. Just need to kill the light in your eyes." They knelt, opening the collar. "And this suits you."

Leader was yanked back from their shirt, Whumper smiling. "Take them to the room."

They didn't trash as they were dragged back and thrown into the small room with three grey and one glass wall. They didn't flinch with the water on the ground, just breathing in relief with no shock wave. They sank to the corner, closing their eyes.

"That looks like an infection."

Leader flinched awake, feeling drowsy with a panick of not knowing how long they were out as the shadows of fever cycles cling to their mind. They lifted their head, recognising Villain's blurry form at the other side of the glass.

Villain motioned the only guard to go.

"Tell me what happened in Whumper's office. They usually don't risk cutting your throat like that."

Leader couldn't answer with their throat burning. They wouldn't if they could, too, not trusting the very person betrayed them. Leader had tried to cut their all ties with Villain, changing safehouses, identities, and even key characteristics of the team's physical appearance. Not successful, obviously. But they still had no idea how Whumper could get their base's plans.

"What's Whumper planning?"

The open cables at the other side of the room crackled, and Leader screamed with pain, but not for so long. They tried to breathe as they pushed themselves more towards the wall, getting smaller with the shiver taking over.

"I don't want to do this again. Tell me what they are planning. I want to save the team."

One of the glass panels opened, and Villain stepped in. Leader first looked at their feet, yellow plastic bots exposing Villain's first action if Leader kept their silence.

Leader didn't hope to think of any other thing. They were in this prison for so long that they knew better. Hope was never in their thoughts, too, even before. Trust? Yes. Trust to their mostly insane but just as brilliant plans, trust to their team. But never hope. Hope was the only thing that let them down every time.

"Can't talk?" Villain reached Leader, but they flinched, not able to stop themselves from starting to shiver again. They hated to look this vulnerable, weak, but hated more that they were falling apart.

Villain reached again, this time gently touching their wet forehead.

"You should tell me so I can help the team. I can't break you out, but I can save them."

Leader leaned into the touch, a whimper escaping. They nodded.

Villain disappeared with a notice to come back soon, leaving them alone. Leader tried to calm themselves, praying that they made the right choice.

Villain came back with a pen and paper, helping Leader to sit straight to write. Leader tried to keep their handwriting stable, but it was impossible with their trembling hands and vision blurred by tears.

"Will they believe me if I show this to your team?"

Leader nodded. Villain turned back, stopping at the door.

"Be a good pet. Don't anger Whumper." They said with a heavy voice. The door closed, and Villain folded the paper before turning back.

"And... I'm sorry. For everything."

-•-

Today is my birthday. This is my cake. Hope you find it up to your tastes.

#:D anon #whump #whump writing #leader whumpee #leader whump #restrains #collar #electrocution

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heilith · 2 years

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Hey and welcome to my Masterlist! :) I won’t make any special warnings, except, perhaps, that I’m a pretty adult user and things I write can be adult, too. So, 18+, read at your own risk. Other than that, you’re heartily invited to partake in my fandom insanity.

I mostly write for LOTR and The Hobbit, with very rare exceptions.

Thorin, Fili, Kili

Imagine Thorin cupping your face between his hands gently and revealing to you his worries that he’s too old for you.

Just a name - Imagine Thorin walking in of very intimate encounter between you, Fili and Kili. Kili x Fili x Reader smut, Thorin.

The Anchor - Imagine Thorin trying to wake you up from a coma after BOTFA, saying “I love you” for the first time.

Shipping you shipping me - Imagine the company shipping you and Thorin.

Diamond - Imagine having the ability to communicate telepathically with Thorin, usually discussing details about the quest, and one night he confesses his thoughts about wanting to make slow, long, passionate love to you.

For Sore Eyes - Imagine watching the sunset with Thorin.

Up Here - Imagine Fili being so happy that you’re a human, because his face is on the same level with your breasts. Not that he doesn’t like your face or eyes, but boobs are boobs, and he’s obsessed with yours.

Lost in Translation - Imagine Thorin trying to tell you that he wants some action.

Grey in the Night - Imagine holding hands with Thorin as you walk through Erebor’s tunnels and caves.

Butterflies - Imagine Kili kissing you for the first time

No-name Kili fluff, under 500 words, absolutely no plot. :)

For Heroes Only - Imagine messing around with Fili’s knives, accidentally hurting yourself, and him giving you a bit of a scolding + Imagine everyone having an apple pie, but making Fili a cherry pie just for him, because the apples make him sick.

Treasure - Not all mistakes are evil, Thorin x reader, for the Kiss-kiss challenge

Kiss-kiss challenge - quick requested kisses from Kili, Fili, Eomer, Thorin, Sherlock. Nothing serious, pure fun. :) Some are reblogged from the requesters, ‘cause I’d submitted them.

Collaborations with Averil-of-Fairlea:

Truth or Dare - Imagine the Company not knowing what a thong is

A Little More Boldness - Imagine kissing Thorin’s happy trail.

A Bad Influence - Imagine Thorin catching you skinny dipping with Fili & Kili, and being angry with you for corrupting his nephews but secretly he wants you for himself. + A Bad influence, Part 2 - Imagine Thorin throwing you over his shoulder, because you’re being too stubborn.

Of Sacks and Snacks - Imagine having to share a sack with Kili because the mountain Trolls didn’t have enough.

A Heart Adrift - Thorin x Reader, minor Fili x Reader, a tale of betrayal, and jealousy, and eventual happy endings. :)

Thranduil

All my love - Imagine being Thranduil’s wife and seeing him after he comes back from battling fire drakes. You see his scarred face for his first time. Instead of being repulsed, you smile sadly and tell him you love him just as much as the day you married him; and you show him just that.

Goodnight - Imagine Thranduil comforting you during a storm and you’re afraid of thunder and lightning.

Hushaby - Imagine being so busy with what you’re working on that you haven’t slept in days. Your husband, Thranduil, find you passed out on a pile of your work and carries you to bed.

Flash Fiction Writing challenge. Really angsty.

Enough - Imagine Thranduil pressing a soft kiss to your baby bump.

No Time for Love - Who dares disobey the King and get away with it?

Where now - Implied Thranduil. Who doesn’t like a bit of a foreplay?

Boromir, Faramir

Good Intentions - Imagine slipping a love potion to Boromir.

Touchy Feely - Imagine caressing Boromir’s beard.

Imagine distracting Faramir, playing footsie with him during a dinner with Denethor.

Imagine stepping out of the shower, and Boromir wrapping a soft towel around your shoulders.

A keepsake - The reader (an elf) gives Boromir her old ring as a gift, made too early to hold any kind of magic, but also too early to be tainted by any kind of darkness. A gift for a king, or a lover.

Summer snow - Faramir and Sam share a friendly drink. :) A bit of Faramir x Eowyn.

Now - A slightly angsty alone time in Lothlorien, for the prompt “Have you no regrets?”, Boromir x reader

Three of swords - When temptations are stronger than reasoning, and the future is unclear, Boromir x reader.

Two is Too Much - Imagine being a member of the Fellowship and after the Ring quest, half the Fellowship wants to set you up with Faramir and the other half wants you to pick Boromir.

What You Wish For - Imagine Faramir always kissing your hand as he’s greeting you, and while you think it’s just a court formality, he can hardly wait for another chance to do it.

Touch Me Not - A wedding night with a reluctant bride, no smut, just fluff. Boromir x reader

Night by Night - Bed sharing with Boromir with a bit of a twist, for the Fluff Bingo challenge.

Jealous Boromir is jealous , but the reader is oblivious. A short something for the Boromir x jealousy warmup request.

Collaboration with Averil-of-Fairlea: Into the Light - Imagine Boromir finally confessing his love for you + Imagine Boromir buying a beautiful dress for you.

Eomer

Friends in Need - Imagine helping Eomer out of his armor after the Battle of Pelennor Fields.

Collaboration with Averil-of-Fairlea: In the Eyes of the Fallen - Imagine being part of the Fellowship and Eomer seeing you for the first time after the Battle of Helm’s Deep, finding himself unable to look away from you.

Collaboration with Averil-of-Fairlea: In Plain Sight (Sequel to In the Eyes of the Fallen) - Imagine Aragorn trying to set you up on a date with Eomer.

Legolas

Too close - Imagine Legolas proposing to you during the Feast of Starlight

Of stars and silence - Imagine lying next to Legolas and looking up at the stars.

Feel me - Imagine getting stuck in a small place with Legolas and being able to feel exactly how much fun he’s having.

Lindir

Appearances - Imagine your first meeting with Lindir + Appearances 2, Unveiled, Undone

A Stand In:

Part 1. Imagine being Elrond’s daughter and him betrothing you to Lindir. + 1 Deleted scene

Part 2. Imagine letting Lindir have his way with you.

Part 3. Imagine Rivendell being attacked, and Lindir taking an arrow for you, knowing it’s all he can do to save you, since he’s poor at combat. (Blood, violence)

Part 4 - Epilogue Minor mentions of blood.

Sing my soul - It’s Lindir who is sung to, for a change.

Bottled Up - Imagine finding out that Lindir has never been kissed. The Unexpected Collaboration Challenge (THAUC22), for the prompt “Musical bards and their heroic muses”

A Way to Wake Up - Breakfast in bed with Lindir, for Sweet and Spicy Bingo

Haldir

Autumn hands - Imagine avoiding touching Haldir, because your hands are almost always cold, but he actually loves the feeling of them on his skin after a tiring day.

With a kiss - Imagine being a healer and saving Haldir after the battle of Helm’s deep only for him to fall in love with you. A sort of a prequel for “Autumn hands”

A Dream or True - “I heard you talking in your sleep”, Haldir x reader

Loss and Gain - a hug from the Marchwarden to fix a bad day.

Orophin, Gil-Galad, Elrond

A Life to Spare - Imagine Gil-galad giving up immortality for his human lover.

Sing, Princess - Imagine Haldir’s brother Orophin enjoying your stories and the sound of your voice.

In Your Arms - Trust and comfort is all that is about. Elrond x reader.

In The Middle - Sometimes things are not that simple. Elrond x reader, Lindir x reader

Bofur, Dwalin

Imagine being afraid to tell Bofur that you love him, then finding out he feels the same.

Thing of Beauty - Love is the eyes of beholder.Bofur x reader (This one is Adult)

Who comes uncalled - Imagine a young Dwalin sneaking away to Dale to catch up with a pretty human lass.

Bard the Bowman

Imagine being the daughter of the Master of Laketown and having a secret relationship with Bard. (Adult)

Smaug

Dragon’s share - (as requested) An AU, where Thranduil is an incredibly famous actor, falling for his equally famous co-star, loving for from afar and preparing to wait for her, when he knows how happy she is with one of the best actors in Hollywood - Human!Smaug of all people. Modern settings, mature.

Not Tolkien

Loki:

For the Mercy - Imagine Loki letting you braid his hair. Loki x reader

The Labyrinth (1986):

Haunted - Sarah finds herself a pester against her will. But is it unwelcome? And who is behind it? A Jareth x Sarah reunion, rated Mature

The header and the dividers are taken from Saradika

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mayfieldss · 2 years

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How you get the girl - Kate Bishop

Warnings: Taylor swift references my beloved, fluff, language, my unedited writing.

AN: Second Kate Bishop Fanfic. This is just a short drabble, but hey I followed through and wrote another. Look at me go!

You hadn't heard from Kate in a few days. You weren't worried, sometimes she would go away to an archery comp without telling you, or head off on one of her many adventures with Clint. Your friend did what she wanted, when she wanted, and that never bothered you, but you hadn't expected her to show up at your door when she did.

The day started as any should. Sun high in the sky, morning noise waking you from a somewhat restless slumber. As anyone would, you made your way from your room slow as a turtle, not wanting to face the day. Mornings were not your thing.

You went to work, a simple job at the ice-cream parlour in the centre of town, a place that wasn't getting much business due to the cold of the season. You did your job well, selling ice-creams to the few daring kids that wanted a cold treat on a cold day. You smiled at the parents as they frowned, handing their money over as the children ordered a thousand toppings one after the other. Your shift would creep by, slow but certain and before long you were heading to lunch, alone in a coffee shop, but content.

Kate usually sat across from you during your lunch break, telling you overexaggerated stories, some true and some false. Her smile from ear to ear would spark the fuse of your own joy, and even on your darkest days, you would be grinning along with her. She wasn't here to sit with you this time, but you thought of where she would be, what she would be doing, and how big her smile would be at this particular hour.

By the end of the day there was no face time from your beloved friend, and though you sat and waited you soon became bored, entrusting yourself to hear the call if it came. You weren't worried but you thought perhaps Kate might have an interesting story or two to fill you in on. Your dinner was bland but the show you watched that night was full of the brightest flavours, a plot that delighted you. It made you think of your own life, how you had to do crazy things to live it to its best. That was when the knock came.

You barely heard the sound over the pouring of the rain, it's loud and persistent drumming making it hard to hear anything other than your TV, which held subtitles despite being on full volume. You opened the door a crack to take a peek at your late night visitor, and no sooner did you see Kate Bishop, drenched from the rain. She was standing on your doorstep the most determined of looks on her face as water fell onto her skin and seeped into her clothes. She sent you a smile and a small wave

"Hi".

Instead of responding you pulled the door open ushering her inside. She hesitated before stepping over the threshold into your place.

"Are you insane Kate? You're gonna catch yourself a cold!" You found yourself gripping onto her sleeve, your grasp wringing water from the fabric.

"I don't think so, was never that good at fishing" Kate smiled, though the determined look she held before was gone, replaced with tense shoulders and nervous eyes. She was staring at you, a thousand words unsaid and it made your heart flip in your chest. "Kate" You paused, cautious of the situation despite the smile that she held. "Are you okay?".

Kate nodded, struggling to hold her smile against her obvious nerves. "It's been a long few days". She looked like a ghost shaking from the rain, but Kate's voice was strong nonetheless. "I've been to afraid to tell you what I want".

You didn't understand it. Maybe she'd hit her head too hard whilst on a mission, or perhaps was shot by an arrow at practice. "And what is it you want?".

There was a pause, like that of quiet after a storm. You wanted to know what Kate was thinking, the story behind her eyes intriguing you with each silent second. You watched as she took a deep breath, eyes locked on yours.

"I want you".

Her words came as a shock to your system, and you couldn't help but to frown at her, frozen by the statement as you spoke. "I'm right here Kate".

The girl across from you shook her head, and as she took a step forward, you found yourself questioning a thousand things. Every little detail of your life over the time you'd known Kate flashed though your mind and you found yourself pondering a question you thought about all too often when you were with her; do you look okay? Before you could fix yourself up however, Kate was speaking again, sentence after sentence with no room for questions like yours.

"I want to be more than just your friend, I want to kiss you and wake up next to you. I want you for worse and for better, I just want you, more than anything". Kate's voice shook through her words, and she ran a hand through her hair, causing droplets of water from the rain to fall to the carpet. "And I'm so mad at myself for not saying it sooner but all I can think about are those couples with pictures in frames of kisses on cheeks, and I want that to be us" It was here that Kate paused, as if comprehending the words that had just left her lips. "Do you want that too or am I crazy?".

The question hung in the air, dangling between the two of you like a piece of string in the wind, and as it floated there, you let yourself smile. "You're not crazy in the slightest Kate Bishop".

As Kate began to grin back at you, a long relieved sigh leaving her lips as she did so, you leant forward, kissing her on the cheek. It was short and sweet, but as you stepped back Kate pulled you close, bringing you back for another, though this time your lips met hers. You found yourself smiling all through the kiss, making the experience quite messy but memorable nonetheless. As you pulled away Kate brought out her phone with a smile. "There's someone I have to call".

It was quite disappointing at first but as the number was dialled and Kate put the phone on speaker, you began to smile once more.

"Hey Clint" Kate spoke, smile showing clearly in her voice as well as on her face. "I got the girl".

AN: This was corny but Taylor Swift thank you for blessing us with 'How you get the girl'. An amazing song if I do say so myself. I can't wait for Taylor's version.

MARVEL TAGLIST: @mellowladyangel @5kyyy @avyannadawn @multiyfandomgirl40

GENERAL TAGLIST: @sunny-reys @candywh0r3

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floralcyanide · 2 years

Text

The Extra || Austin Butler x OC

Chapter Ten (nsfw)

Pairing: Austin Butler x OC

Warnings: smut (minors dni pls), oral (f receiving), mentions of past pregnancy scare, mentions of m*sturbation/ use of toys, anxiety, a little bit of dirty talk but nothing heinous.

Word Count: 2574

>> super long A/N sorry but pls read!! first off I just wanna say that the fact The Extra has gotten 1k more reads on Wattpad since I last updated is literally insane. wtf. thank you all so much. it is also very close to 1k hits on ao3, which I'm super thankful for. I wanna mention that this chapter's smut is relatively tame compared to chapter six, so if you didn't want to read that chapter due to the graphicness of it, then this chapter is safe lol!! I know this chapter is fairly short compared to others, but I think what I wrote will suffice for now. I wanted to get this posted since it's been a few days. I'm still trying to get my creative juices flowing again. I hope everyone enjoys this chapter despite it being a little dry, but we're in between plot points, so nothing eventful is happening for now. also if the flow of this is weird (or if any of it is, really) I apologize, I didn't feel like reading over it sksks I needed to post something asap

***if your url has a slash through it, that means your URL won't tag. please let me know if it's misspelled or anything so I can fix it.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Add yourself to the taglist HERE

June 2020

To say I’m beginning to go insane is an understatement. I’m growing more and more frustrated by the day, and no matter what I do, nothing seems to help. I’ve been patient and understanding, but it’s been months. You’d think that Austin and I would’ve had sex again by now. But that isn’t the case. I usually don’t mind not having sex, but being in constant close proximity is challenging. We only get as far as intense makeout sessions nowadays. Nothing more. I know Austin has a drive because I’ll hear him in the shower getting off. I’ve offered to please him, but he just waves me off when I ask, saying he doesn’t need it. I’m beginning to think I’ve either done something, the false pregnancy scared him, or maybe he’s not sexually attracted to me anymore. I guess it’s time to put it to the test. I ordered a lingerie set a month ago for my birthday that I didn’t get to wear. It’s Austin’s favorite color, so hopefully, it’ll catch his eye, and I can get him to open up.

Austin is in the living room watching TV, taking a break from running lines, or studying Elvis. I’m in our bedroom straightening things up and putting things away. As far as Austin knows, I’m just making the bed and folding laundry. But I’ve now completed those tasks, and I’m wearing the set underneath a silk robe while lying on the bed. I open the robe up enough to where you can plainly see the lingerie. I decide now is the time to text Austin.

Can you come in here?

After a few moments, I can hear his footsteps approaching the door, and I almost feel nervous about him seeing me like this. It’s been a while since I’ve done anything extravagant for Austin. I hope this isn’t a mistake. He opens the door to the bedroom, not paying attention to me at first. A shocked expression comes over him when he looks up and locks eyes with mine. Austin furrows his eyebrows at me, taking cautious steps towards the bed. I stare at him through my eyelashes, running a seductive hand across my body.

“Like what you see?” I ask, breaking the silence.

Austin’s breath hitches as he nods slowly. I beckon him to me with my index finger, but he stays put. He seems nervous.

“What’s wrong, babe?” I’m a little concerned now.

“Nothing,” Austin says as his voice cracks.

I scramble up from my lying position and immediately walk over to him, putting his face in my hands, “No, something is wrong. You can tell me.”

Austin keeps his eyes downcast.

“Austin, why won’t you make love to me?” I ask sadly, moving my face in a way that forces eye contact.

He finally does meet my eyes as he takes his lip between his teeth, “I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“I’m scared I’ll hurt you or get you pregnant, and I know you don’t want that,” Austin says quietly.

“Why would you hurt me? If this is about last time, that was different. We were different,” I shake my head, “Condoms are also a thing, Aus. You don’t have to worry about that.”

Austin doesn’t respond, his eyes still on mine. Defeatedly, I pull my hands from his cheeks and tie the robe back closed.

“No,” Austin stops my hands, “You don’t have to do that.”

“What’s the point of showing off if you won’t do anything about it?” I frown, letting my arms fall to my sides.

“I like looking at you,” Austin whispers, tracing a finger along my jaw, “You’re beautiful, Ro.”

I avoid his eyes, quickly covering myself and tying the robe up anyway, “I understand if you’re still scared, and I’m sorry for this.”

Embarrassment doesn’t begin to describe how I feel. I know I should appreciate that Austin wants to look at me, but knowing I was nearly naked for no tangible outcome, makes me feel foolish. I should have figured he didn’t want to have sex no matter what I tried to do. I feel so inconsiderate, and I know it’s irrational, but I just want to hide.

“You aren’t the one who should be sorry. I’m sorry for not giving you the attention you deserve. Because you definitely deserve it, baby,” Austin says as he pulls me to him by my hips.

Now it’s my turn to stay quiet with my eyes turned away. I don’t feel in the mood anymore, and it’s not like I need to anyway. Sex usually isn’t that important to me. Still, before we broke up, we never went for entire months without doing anything. And the last time Austin and I had any form of sex, it was rough, wild, and unexpected. Plus, we weren’t together and happy. Now that we are happy, not having a sex life makes me feel like I’ve done something wrong, as silly as it sounds.

“Did I do something?” I sigh.

“No,” Austin says with a serious look on his face, “You didn’t do anything wrong, Roman. I’ve just been so focused on the movie, and I’ve been worrying about possibly fucking everything up again. I’m sorry for not taking care of you.”

I nod, fiddling nervously with the robe string, “I understand. I just wish you’d get out of this weird phase of not communicating with me.”

“I worry too much about losing you,” Austin grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him.

“You aren’t going to lose me. But please go back to telling me what bothers you before it becomes a problem, okay?” I say.

“Okay,” he says before running his thumb over my bottom lip, “My beautiful girl.”

Austin leans down to capture my lips with his softly, his hands holding my head and jaw. My hands rest on his chest as he deepens the kiss, tracing my bottom lip with his tongue. I let him in, allowing him to explore my mouth slowly. The kiss is hot and open-mouthed, and Austin wastes no time pulling the string to my robe. Without breaking the sensual kiss, he pushes the robe off my shoulders and lets it fall to the floor. Austin lets his hands slide from my head to my neck, then over my chest and down my sides. He grips my hips, drawing delicate circles with his thumbs into the lace. Austin latches his teeth onto my bottom lip and pulls it forward, opening his eyes to watch as he does. He lets go of it as a trail of spit connects our mouths.

Austin takes one of his hands from my hips and cards it through my hair, letting his fingers rest on my scalp. He grips my hair and pulls my head back slightly, exposing my neck. He leaves open-mouthed kisses along the column of my neck, leaving little nips here and there. Austin isn’t viciously biting me this time. The only sound in the room is his lips against my skin and my labored breathing. He brings his other hand up from my hips and slips a finger underneath the lacy bra strap, lifting it as far as it’ll go before letting it snap back to my shoulder. He then pulls the strap down, letting it rest against my upper arm as he repeats the same action to the other strap. Austin’s lips still haven’t left my neck, and they travel to my collarbone, edging closer to my breasts. He reaches behind my back and unclasps the bra, letting it fall down my back and onto the floor. Austin pulls away from my collarbone and starts backing me towards the bed. The backs of my knees hit the mattress, and I let myself fall onto it. I move up to the top of the bed where the pillows are, letting my head rest on them as Austin cages my body with his arms.

“Now,” he smiles, his gold necklace dangling right above my face, “Let me make love to you,” he says, referring to my earlier question.

Austin resumes his sultry kisses on my collarbone, slowly descending to my breasts. He kisses the skin of them, avoiding where I want him most. I glide my fingers through his hair once he finally attaches his mouth to one of my nipples. Austin flicks his tongue across it before taking it back into his mouth, teasing it between his teeth. My legs involuntarily squeeze together at the sharp feeling, but Austin takes notice and spreads my legs apart. He focuses on the other nipple as his entire hand takes up my thigh, pressing his fingertips into it. He lets his body rest against the mattress between my legs. Austin busies his hands by twisting and pulling at my nipples as he kisses my stomach, making his way down the hem of my lacy underwear. I let out a small whimper at the overstimulation of my breasts, squirming a little as Austin runs his tongue along the skin at the edge of the lace. Before he continues further, he sits up and pulls his shirt off. I hurriedly drink in his body until he lays back down on his chest. Of course, I’ve seen him shirtless since we last had sex, but when we’re intimate, it’s something else entirely.

Austin plays with the lacy fringe of my underwear, pulling it and letting it snap back much like he did with my bra straps.

“Please,” I say, putting my hand back in his hair and running my fingers through it, “I need your mouth.”

“Getting tired of your hand, darling? I’m sorry,” Austin teases, slowly pulling the lace piece down my legs.

I can’t help but scoff at his comment, “My hand and vibrator can only do so much, you know.”

He looks up at me through his lashes, darting his tongue out to lick his lips, “As much as I’d like to see that, I’ll take care of you this time.”

Before I can respond, Austin takes his fingers and spreads me open further, his eyes taking in the sight of my glistening pussy.

“So wet for me already, hmm? Been too long?” he smirks before spreading my slick around with his fingers and bringing them to his mouth to lick off.

“Yes, it has,” I say shakily, “Now, please stop teasing.”

Austin wastes no time flattening his tongue and licking a fat stripe from my entrance to my clit, moving his tongue back and forth against the bundle of nerves at an agonizing pace. He has one hand on my hip to keep me pressed to the mattress while the other one keeps me open for him. Austin makes a point to circle and flick my clit with his tongue slowly. Almost as if he wants to relish this for time lost.

“Missed how good you taste,” he says, lapping up the never-ending arousal that seeps out.

I throw my head back against the pillows, fisting the sheets and Austin’s hair. He traces the outline of my entrance with his fingertip, and I try to buck my hips towards his face to no avail. Austin’s hand is too heavy on my hip. Sitting up again, he pulls both his underwear and sweats down his legs, kicking them off the rest of the way. Before doing anything else, he moves over to the bedside table and retrieves the box of condoms I stashed months back. Austin rips one open with his teeth before pumping himself a few times, rolling the condom on. I watch as he drags his tip along my folds, gathering the slick before pushing into me slowly. His hands hold onto my hips, grasping them as he pushes himself deeper. I let out a cry of near relief at the stretch of his cock inside me. Finally.

“Fuck, Aus, you feel so good,” I moan, biting my lip as I look up at him.

Austin’s hair falls into his face as he pulls out before thrusting back in, slowly gaining a rhythm. He lowers himself against my body, letting go of me and grabbing both my hands. He then puts our hands on both sides of my head, holding onto them as he moves his hips fluidly against mine.

Austin leans down to kiss my lips, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” I smile before kissing back.

He thrusts at a different angle and hits a spot within me that sends me reeling, “Oh god, right there, Aus.”

Austin continues moving his hips in favor of hearing me moan when his tip hits the sweet spot. I don’t even have to let him know I’m close because he groans at the feeling of me clenching around him. He slams into me at a rapid pace, chasing both our highs. Austin kisses along my jaw and down my neck as his hips begin sputtering, the erratic thrusts sending me over the edge. My cries of pleasure cause Austin to release with a shaky moan as his hands grip mine. After removing and disposing of the condom, he lays down next to me and pulls me into his chest. He nuzzles his face into my neck.

“I’m sorry that took so long,” Austin jokes.

“Honestly, the build-up made it worth it,” I chuckle and wrap my arms around his, which are encircling my waist.

“What do you wanna do for the rest of the evening?” he asks.

“I wanna just lay here for a few and then maybe practice some lines with you,” I say, “We haven’t practiced the scenes we’re together in for a while.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Austin buries his face deeper into my neck.

While I have time to think while lying in bed, I decide maybe I should tell the rest of the friend group that Austin and I are dating. I probably should mention that we already know each other too, unless they’ve caught on as Tom and Dacre did. Still, lying isn’t necessary anymore. If Austin and I showed up to set in a few months and had obvious chemistry, it would make people confused and suspicious. Yes, we did spend a lot of time together during these few months, but the chemistry we already had is incomparable to what a new relationship’s vibe would be. Austin and I definitely do not have the same feelings we had when we first met, and since we’ve gotten back together, our bond has gotten more intense. Mainly because we’re constantly with each other, so it would make sense to just explain our situation to those important to us.

The rest of the evening is spent running through the scene where Elvis is in Priscilla’s bedroom in Germany. Austin and I are sitting on the floor by the couch, repeatedly going over the same lines until we get them just right. We have about four more months until Baz suspects we will resume shooting; however, he is particular about getting things perfect. So is Austin. Even with my boyfriend being picky about how things sound, he still asks me for advice on how to articulate a line or where to put emphasis on a word. If Austin still asks me for guidance on line reading after working diligently to become Elvis, maybe I am cut out for this actress thing after all.

taglist: @cozacorner @onxlymnsn @anangelwhodidntfall @butlersluvbot @jolovesfandoms @austinbutler17 @slutforblueeyes @mamaspresley @mirandastuckinthe80s @bobbykennedyfan @sodonebruh @lizzymizzy-blogg @defnotreadingfanfics12 @izzvoid @homebodybirkin2003 @thatonemoviefan @kittenlittle24 @tubble-wubble @kaycinema @annamarie16 @adoreyouusugar @csmt-m @apparently-sunshine @amiets2 @emchickynuggies @mrs-butler @mesbouquins @ari-nicole @xmusse @austin-butlers-gf @feral4austinbutler @inlovewithchrisevans @shynovelist @mommy-maia @jessieeisenburg @karamelcoveredolicity @thtguyovrthere @popeheywardssecretgf @venxfinn3 @westwoodcoast @victoriastarkparker @priestessofthelyre @tpwk-hailee @urmom787878

#austin butler #austin butler x oc #austin butler x oc smut #austin butler smut #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fanfic #austin butler x reader #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #austin butler elvis #elvis #elvis 2022 #elvis (2022)#elvis movie #elvis film #elvis biopic #baz luhrmann elvis #the extra fanfic #floralcyanide writes

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craftygalaxyspyfrog · 1 year

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a/n: i do not remember writing this at all, but it was in my drafts. i think that this might just have been a 3am thing as there is absolutely no plot to this whatsoever, so i am sorry that it makes no sense at all, but i thought that it was somewhat cute anyway and so here we are. enjoy?

in pursuit of laughter (with the perfect degree of mirth)

Wednesday was outright refusing to rest. Each night, Enid could hear her clacking away at her typewriter, polishing her cello, stepping about in a quick pace around their shared room.

At first, the blonde hadn't questioned it. Wednesday was weird. We all knew that; it wasn't until she noticed the heavy bags that seemed to be pulling at the girl's eyelids that she decided to step in. The writer looked like she was in pain. Well, more pain than usual. Enid had spoken to Thing about it ad nasuem. He had expressed to her that she often does this. She goes through phases of insomnia. It wasn't entirely uncommon, but it didn't ever last this long. Five days. Wednesday hadn't closed her eyes in five days. Most people would have been driven mad by the third day, but not Wednesday. Because she was weird.

As if Enid had Beetlejuice-d her roommate with her mind, the latter came stomping through the door. Her movements were slow; her whole body drooping to the floor. She dropped her bag down beside her bed before collapsing onto her mattress with a sigh.

"Howdy, roomie!" Enid almost yelled.

Wednesday flinched at the decibel of Enid's tone before grunting at her roommate in response. This'd been the trajectory of how the majority of their conversations had concluded over the last few days. The werewolf missed her roomie. She had missed her usual not as cold, detached tone. These last few days had been far too cold for her liking.

After another minute of Enid staring at Wednesday and Wednesday pretending that she hadn't noticed, the raven haired girl stood up and started to move sluggishly towards their shared bathroom.

Enid followed her across the floor with her eyes. She needed to fix her friend and if Wednesday wanted to play hardball, well, so could she.

It had been a couple of minutes, but as the writer emerged from the bathroom, looking more worn out than when she had left those few minutes ago, the blonde decided that it was now or never.

Desperate times called for desperate measures. Enid pounced onto her roommate, the pair toppling to the floor with a very undignified thump. Wednesday struggled admirably, trying in vain to push Enid away from her. She should know by now that her tired spaghetti arms are no match for Enid's human strength, never mind her wolf strength. With little effort, the blonde forced Wednesday's hands behind her back and held them there with one knee.

"Enid, let me go," Wednesday hissed, her braid whipping around as she turned her head to face Enid.

The look that she gave to the other girl was almost enough to make her falter. Almost. Eyes on the prize, Enid. "No. You need to sleep, Wednesday."

The raven haired girl growled under her breath, hissing as she felt a hand latch onto her side. Her breath hitched as she realised what it was that Enid was planning to do.

"Enid, no. Don't." Her struggling became a little bit more frantic, but she was far too exhausted to really make it count.

"I'm sorry, Wednesday, but you leave me no choice. If you refuse to sleep then I will just have to make you."

And she went straight for the kill. Enid dug her fingers into Wednesday's ribs and hit the spots just between the bones that she knew drove the girl insane. The reaction was instantaneous.

"Ahahahahaha! Ehihihihinid!"

The werewolf couldn't help but smile along with the goth's laughter. She would never get tired of hearing her giggles and snorts. "Yes?"

The teasing lilt in her voice made Wednesday blush a shade darker than she had been. "Stohohohop it!"

Enid hummed, her face appearing to be in deep thought for a moment before her movements became a little bit more aggressive. She was not playing around. "No, I don't think I will."

Wednesday tried to pull at her hands, which were still suspended behind her back, to no avail. She snorted as Enid hit that dreaded spot on her second rib. It made giggles turn to full laughter as her struggling became slower under the weight of her exhaustion and her cachinnation.

Enid grinned down at the girl underneath her. "Oh, right, this is a really bad spot for you," she teased, snickering to herself. "I forgot."

If Wednesday had access to her knives right now, the werewolf would be dead. In fact, as soon as she regained control of all four of her limbs, the werewolf would die.

The blonde let her hands retreat from Wendesday's body, the writer gasping in some much needed air. Her head dropped to the floor, forehead resting against dusty floorboards. If Enid didn't know any better, she could have sworn that she saw the writer's eyes close for a few seconds as she gathered herself.

Progress.

She looked down into Wednesday's eyes and could almost see that her resolve was breaking. "Do you want me to take you to bed?"

Wednesday turned her head just slightly to face the blonde's that was hovering above hers. "No, it is my writing -"

But the werewolf was having none of that. Enid wiggled her hand into Wednesday's short pocket and dug her thumb into the crease where the girl's leg met her body. It was a stab in the dark, to be honest. She wasn't entirely sure if the girl was ticklish there, but it was one of her worst spots. So she figured why not. She was not disappointed. Wednesday started snorting and cackling immediately. She tried to threaten Enid, to yell that she was going to use her bed springs to remove the werewolf's fingernails, but no words were making it past her manical laughter. It was frankly embarrassing how much of a reaction she was able to get out of her with just one finger.

Wednesday's face had reached an undiscovered shade of red as her head shot around in silent laughter. Enid used her thumb to dig into that spot whilst a claw simultaneously scratched circles onto her bottom ribs, bringing forth the perfect degree of mirth.

It wasn't until the girl had completely resigned herself to her fate that Enid retreated her hands again and released Wednesday's arms from their hold behind her back. Wednesday, for her part, lay on the floor in a puddle of her own limbs as she tried to gather herself together. Before she was able to regain full composure of her body, however, she felt herself be scooped up off the floor and carefully placed down onto her bed.

She stared tiredly up at Enid as the other girl brought the covers over her body, humming as she did so, and tucked the sides underneath her both of her arms.

The werewolf smiled down at her. "Sleep sweet, roomie," she said before skipping over to her own bed. Wednesday could have sworn that she saw the blonde fist pump Thing before her eyes drooped closed, and she fell into a very pleasant dream of revenge.

Enid was going to suffer, and Wednesday was going to enjoy every moment of inflicting said suffering.

#wednesday netflix #wednesday enid tickle #🐸 writes #i'm sorry that you have to read this #it is almost as horrifying as being chased by a flock of geese

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ursie · 2 years

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Do you have any headcanons for Nico, Drew and Rachel friendship?

I think they’re besties!! A trio™️

Nico takes Drew to the mall of America for shopping days

Rachel and Drew painted together b4 Nico joined them

Drew is mean but that’s ok because Rachel and Nico are petty too :3

Camp mean girls. As a treat

Nico and Drew give each other fashion/grooming tips.

Drew is better at overall technique with makeup but Nico can do better high precision stuff (like nail art or complicated eye shadow)..as long as it’s on someone else lol

They just vibe a lot in Rachel’s space -it’s good for Drew to not have to perform for a bit and it gets Nico away from crowds..like honestly it’s just good for them to decompress

Rachel and Nico are both the type to get into random projects and drop them as soon as a. They’re bored/it gets hard (Rachel) or they figure it out/complete it (Nico)..they drag each other and Drew into all their projects. It’s ok though because Drew drags them into her schemes. Rachel wants to start a band, Drew wants a business empire, Nico just wants them to accompany him into that dark & suspicious tunnel making weird noises..friendship :)

Drew and Rachel bond over rich kid issues™️ like parents making you do all sorts of classes instead of talking to you. Nico would join them but he actually bullies Hades into the classes and talking to him. He does not relate. He thinks violin practice is cool. He misses tap. He is alas. A nerd

Drew is a secret nerd and really into mythomagic and stuff. Once she joins their campaign and starts like embracing it once she gets no one at camp a. Cares, or b. Is gonna belittle her or her interests or c. Is gonna be weird about her being a girl w these interests

What I’m saying is Drew gets really into cosplay.

Drew woman in stem. She helps run Nicos gaming channel and mods the chat ect. She’s really popular on a sep channel but Nico is sensitive and she’s not. On his chat she bullies back :3

They get up to sitcom shenanigans the second the main characters™️ look away which really complicated when Nico tripped and accidentally became a main character. He’s not happy about it either

What I’m saying is Drew is actively trying to be a main character ™️ in life, Rachel is content with being an minor one but life keeps making her a plot device and Nico is trying so hard not to be a main character but everyone is dumb and he has things to do and that my friends is the comedy of their trio

You’ve heard of daddy issues? They’ve got em. Mommy issues? In spades. Sister issues?? Somehow they’ve managed it. Percy issues? Yeah. They’ve got all the issues. they bitch about them a lot

Oh you know they have sleepovers all the time

Drew had a goth phase and is still a step away from being w girl and Rachel is just too rich to be grunge but she’s close but either way they get Nico, his cabin, his style. They think the skulls are cute. Drew just wishes he’d update from scene kid to e boy

They play hot potato with their brain cells when they’re together. Usually Nico has some but alas his brain cells cannot stand against the fact that it doesn’t matter if he knows better. He wants to see what would happen. Regrettably that leaves Drew to be the voice of reason. Even more regrettably she has no reason. They’re idiots together

Drew and Will are exes just because I think it’s funny and yknow Will has a type. Will is internally panicked the entire time Nico & Drew hang out.

Drew works w Will at the infirmary-she’s very good at getting people to relax and listen ect.

Nico “works” at the infirmary he just dropped by to gossip but ends up sorting and cleaning and writing stuff down ect. No official position but he always hustles yknow always has busy hands.

Rachel does not but she is a gossip and snoop so yeah they gossip five feet from Will every other day on one hand he finds it endearing on the other it drives him insane

Nico gives them 1 on 1 training a lot and it’s def starting to show. They give him lessons too (makeup/hair, art, ect..mostly gossip in the end it’s always them gossiping)

Anyway a trio

#nico time..#nico di angelo #drew tanaka #rachel elizabeth dare #asks #pjo #i babble

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thedarkmistress16 · 10 months

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Because of the oc ask, I figured I'd give you a comprehensive list of the typical things I do for writing inspiration, how I usually write things, and what goes through my brain as I write and develop ideas and characters. Feel free to pass around and jump in.

I'll usually always want to find a pic but mainly a gif of the character I'm writing about for both headcanons and actual stories for inspiration as I work, like visualizing their expressions morph to the scene I'm thinking of (the gif helps with this immensely). In other words, jumping off the canon page into my own vision. Two gifs if I can help it at the most-one for the beginning of the piece and one for the end, with different expressions portraying the fic's progression, but exuding a tone I'm going for in the piece itself (as an example, my yan!ts blurb was written before I thought of the gif placed at the end of it, which conveys an expression/similar action I visualized during the story, compared to the other yan!ts blurb that was inspired by the gif itself and was placed before the writing itself.).

Some of you may already know I used Sims 4 CAS for my OC reveal in one ask, and it was a lot of fun to do then since that game can have some stellar cc content (praise to all modders). But I also like playing dress-up/avatar creator games online for existing fictional characters or OCs to see how many details I can get accurate to the source material or my own concept; and, again, done in various art styles so win for variety. Really aids me in adding more or different details to my characters (yes, this is also an endorsement for Ambition's Dream Girlfriend and YES, you should play it. You legit get so many MR outfits for free in events and the gacha it's INSANE.).

Transcribing hand-written words to digital ones is something I'm recently trying again and is actually very helpful for my writing process. I'm the type of writer that tries to make every sentence perfect as I go along digitally, like writing and revising constantly, and I usually don't make that much traction in the long run when I have very few ideas or plotlines to begin with. Writing by hand not only makes me think more meticulously about exactly what I'm writing and how to word it, but also the bigger picture in general. I'm also less afraid to make mistakes on paper because when I go to transcribe it, I get lost in the scene again and end up adding more details I haven't thought of before due to already having the mental building blocks down. It's similar to physically stepping away from your work and literally seeing it in a new light- or format- in this case. Also, handwriting, while slow and tiring, is very therapeutic on the soul for me especially when I've stared at a screen for too long.

I go back and re-read my work ALL. THE. TIME. Sometimes it yields ideas, sometimes I edit one word or add another and close it. Other times, I have nothing to add. But most of the time, I pretend I'm pitching it to other people as I read through it. Helps me pick out problems within my own writing to re-explain things or expand upon another. It's a cruel mistress on top of a bad habit- I'm either my own hype guy or my own worst critic, usually not accomplishing much of anything in terms of actually writing something.

I can easily stare at a gif or pic or amv for hours and sit there doing nothing but daydreaming, planning out the entire fic in my brain, and then measly writing a plot outline and never returning to it to flesh it out because I forgot most of the details and that I had technically already finished it in my head.

Like any true writer does, I keep all of my ideas no matter how shitty or out of place they are in the current document. I never know when I'll need it for a different scene or if I come up with something else it works much better with contextually. Or, y'know, when you get that fandom brain rot knocking on your door again.

I flip-flop a lot between adding details and taking them away. I initially try to add as many as possible that I think I can get away with without it being too overbearing before condensing it down later when the writing style doesn't justify it. More details help me paint the scene much better like the environment, character relationships, and senses, but including as much as I do on the regular is usually unnecessary. To include that much detail is really only helpful to me when I've been away from the piece for too long.

Most often I'll completely forget what I'm writing about and go off on a completely unrelated tangent that is vaguely connected to whatever I tried to do. Keeping it floating there in blank space as I re-write it again or revising pieces of it usually helps. See #6 for additional results.

In case no one who's seen my blog notices by now, I tend to be quirky when I talk about my writing; usually in a shitpost-esque style, and then the story/narration itself taking the concept either completely seriously or being aware of the batshit insanity of it all and rolling with it (see, uh, my yan!rpf headcanons for an ex. of this utter derailment.).

Of course I throw myself into my own writing situations, OC or no; what kind of self-indulgent writer doesn't? Also, what easier writing perspective you can write about than yourself?

Side note, being addicted to songs and playing them on loop while I happen to write occurs A LOT and isn't necessarily inspiration, but it certainly helps my mood and flow when it comes to writing.

#list of moi #moi writing #so what are your writing quirks? lol #or more like writing sins ha #tagging this as:#10 cringe writing habits #because writing in and of itself is a pain even when it's fun #let's all cry together

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warcrimesimulator · 3 years

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Since my sci-fi WWII story officially has a time travel-related backstory now I could technically write about the alternate timeline that canonically exists. I could.... do that.......

#how to pointlessly expand my fictional universe even further for no good reason <3 #i'm so glad I went back to the time travel plot. it just feels so much more on-brand #for a long time I was wanting to step away from my usual insane plots and just make something that was more like...#an actual historical-fiction story with sci-fi elements #but nope it has flipped around entirely. it's a sci-fi story with historical fiction elements. it's crazy and insane and I'm living for it.

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mint-leaves-in-coffee · 2 years

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Can I have the leech brothers x reader (separate)

Where the reader sneak up on them and hug them then run away.

What will be their reaction?

Absolutely my guy

I got you

I'm late bringin home dinner for you I'm sorry y'all the drive thru was insane

Floyd Leech

Word spread like wildfire of Floyd's foul mood

And other students from every dorm all but dove out of his way

The look on his face terrified most people

So they opted to stay as far away from the moody eel as possible

The sound of rapid footsteps was the only warning he recieved before he was struck with the impact of someone jumping onto his back

He didn't budge much aside from leaning forward a bit

The other students froze

watching

waiting with bated breath for Floyd to react

It was dead silence, the surrounding people too anxious to move for fear of pissing him off further

He straightened himself as the offending party hung off of him, arms wrapped around him tightly

The angry frown that adorned his face shifted to a gleeful smile but before he could return their gesture and squeeze them right back, they let go and ran past him, laughing the whole way

"Koebi-chan~ Come back~ Let me give you a squeeze~"

He chased them through the halls childishly, joining in their laughter

Once he caught them he squeezed them tightly, not letting go just holding them there

This became a regular thing before long

The magicless prefect would run up to him from behind and encircle their arms around him, dodge his returned affection and prompt him to chase them through the halls

Never once did they get away successfully

He'd always catch them, cage them in his embrace and squeeze them for as long as he wanted to

Eventually he grew to expect it

He'd hear their footfalls approaching and turn to grab them with a tight squeeze

Hmm He'll let them go when he feels like it

If they were to stop the now daily ritual, he'd grow moody immediately

Jade Leech

Longingly they thought of Jade, missing his presence

It had been a while since they'd last seen one another

With both of their schedules packed to the brim there wasn't much free time aside from in between classes

They hadn't shared any classrooms, nor were their classes close by, however, they had been thinking about meeting him outside his classroom for a small conversation

They hadn't wanted to disturb him at Mostro Lounge because that was where he was busiest

So as they made their way through the crowded halls to his classroom, they smiled in delight

Not only at the thought of seeing Jade but also at the thought of surprising him

They made their way through the flooded halls, waiting for him to emerge from his classroom

And after they saw him step out, they slid their arms tightly around his waist

But just as quickly as they embraced him, they retracted their arms

Quick on their feet, they ran past him and to their next class

He stared after them, a sly smirk making its way across his face

"Oya~ How bold."

He smiled to himself, his usual devious smile

They wanted to surprise him, hm?

How kind of them

He supposed he should return the favour

It'd be only proper, wouldn't it?

One kind favour repaid by another?

He's already plotting a way to surprise them back

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5-seconds-of-bucky · 3 years

Text

The Dock

A/N: So I’m writing for Bucky now...☺️ I wrote this for @wkemeup’s 9k writing challenge but also not? I’ve had the idea in my head for a while now so I thought I’d participate! I included the prompt, but it’s not so much the plot of the story so much as just part of it. Anyways, happy reading!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Avenger!Reader

Summary: After a long time of mutual pinning, a night on the dock helps you and Bucky finally confess your feelings for each other

Word count: 4.5k+

Warnings: Swearing, reader gets catcalled, violence, excessive usage of the middle finger

Prompt: Character A is the target of harassment on the street. Shamed, they pretend it doesn’t bother them. Until it happens in the presence of Character B, who reigns hell on whoever dared to upset [A]

---

You awoke to your head bobbing on the car window and the sound of crunching gravel as the car pulled into the driveway of Tony’s lake house. Your neck ached from leaning over in a strange position for so long and you groaned as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes.

Bucky grinned from the seat beside you. “Sleep well?” he asked, nudging your calf with his foot. “You got a little drool there.”

“Oh, shut up.” You stuck your middle finger up in his direction. “I slept very well, actually. Thank you for asking.”

“I can tell.” You lifted up your other hand to flip him off again, causing him to chuckle. “Ooh, two middle fingers. I’m really scared now.”

The two of you were too busy teasing each other to realize that the car had stopped and Sam and Natasha had already gotten out of it. A knock on the window your head was resting on made you turn around, seeing Sam’s face a little too close for your liking.

“Are you two gonna stop flirting and help us with the bags or should I let you bake in the car?” he asked. With a roll of your eyes, you opened the car door, making sure to bump Sam in the process. Bucky felt heat rise to his cheeks, glad that you weren’t looking over towards him to see it. “I’m taking this silence to mean that you do want to roast in the car.”

“Sam, would you shut up?” you laughed, casually sticking a middle finger up behind your back as you walked past him to the trunk.

“You and these middle fingers today,” Sam muttered.

“I have another one if you’d like to see it.” You grabbed your backpack and slung it over your shoulder.

“I’m good.” He picked up his bag from the ground before heading towards the house, which the rest of the team was already situated in. You went to grab your suitcase but Bucky swatted your hand away, grabbing it himself and closing the trunk.

“I got it,” he insisted like the true gentleman he was. As much as you wanted to argue, you knew it wouldn’t get you anywhere.

“Why thank you, good sir.” You bumped his shoulder with your own and walked ahead, jumping up the three steps to the porch and opening the door.

“All in a day’s work.” He lifted the suitcases up the steps with ease and slipped past you to get inside. The feeling of air conditioning inside the cabin was a major relief from the heat outside.

“Glad to see the lovebirds finally showed up,” Tony said once you and Bucky were completely inside the cabin.

“You better watch out, Tony. Y/N’s got middle fingers for days over there.”

“Shut up, Sam!”

A chorus of laughter rang out throughout the cabin and you made sure to shoulder check Sam as you passed him to get to the kitchen.

---

“Okay, I have the perfect plan to get you and Barnes together this weekend,’ Natasha said as she pulled out clothes from her suitcase. You two were sharing a room for the week and you weren’t sure if it was a good thing or not. You loved Nat to death but lately she had been trying especially hard to get you to make a move on Bucky and it was only slightly annoying.

“The perfect plan, huh? Even more perfect than the last perfect plan?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I forgot to account for the fact you both have a tendency to wake up at ungodly hours in the morning last time. I promise it’s foolproof this time.”

“Well then, let’s hear it.”

“Alright. Before you got in here--you know, when you were busy flirting with Bucky.” She winked, to which you rolled your eyes. “Well Tony was talking about taking the boat out and going tubing. So what we have to do is get you and Bucky to go on the tube together. Tony’s a crazy driver so you’ll get thrown off pretty fast. Bucky will get so worried he’ll just have to confess his love to you.”

“Two issues.” You pointed a finger at her. “One, how am I going to get Bucky on a tube? It will be hard enough to get him on the boat alone. Two,” You held up another finger. “why would he confess his love at that very moment? That’s insane.”

“One,” She grabbed one of your fingers and put it down. “he’s whipped for you. I guarantee that if you ask, he’ll do it without a second thought.”

“Sure he would,” you scoffed.

“Uh, I know he would.” She gave you a knowing smirk. “Two, he gets worried about you all the time and I’ve seen him get close to confessing every time. We just gotta push him over the edge.”

“Bucky getting protective is just him being my best friend. He used to be just like that with Steve too.” You put your arm down, shuffling over to your own bed to take some clothes out of the blue suitcase on top of it.

“No, it’s definitely more than best friend love.” She moved to sit down on your bed.

“Either way, it usually ends in some kind of fight and I’d like to avoid that this weekend.”

“Who’s he gonna fight? Tony?”

“I mean, you never know.” It wouldn’t be the first time.

“I can’t wait to get back and shove these things in my mouth,” you said with a grin as you exited the bakery behind Bucky, a bag of donut holes in your hand.

“Gee, really? It’s almost like you haven’t been talking about it for the past three days,” Bucky chuckled, reaching for the bag.

You pulled the bag away from him with a fake scoff. “Oh, I don’t think so, mister. We have to wait until we get back. The anticipation makes them taste better.”

“You’re insufferable.” He elbowed your side and you stuck your tongue out at him.

“Damn, you looking fine over there, mama!”

You took in a sharp breath. It wasn’t all that uncommon for you to get cat called while out and about. You were in New York City, for fucks sake. That didn’t mean that it made you feel any less uncomfortable, though.

As much as it stung, you didn’t want to start anything. You stared straight ahead and prayed Bucky didn’t hear it. Much to your dismay though, he stiffened next to you, subtly glancing back to see who was talking to you in such a vulgar way. Damn that supersoldier enhanced hearing.

“Hey, sweetcheeks!” You felt a tug on your shoulder. “Didn’t you hear me?”

You huffed, shaking the harsh grip off your shoulder and picking up the pace. You expected Bucky to keep going with you so you continued walking, frowning when you noticed he wasn’t beside you anymore.

“Listen here, you little shit,” Bucky seethed, stepping in front of the man and blocking you from his sight. “She obviously doesn’t want to talk to you. Leave her, and every other woman you ever lay your beady little eyes on, alone.”

“And what’re you gonna do about it?” the man smirked. “She need her boyfriend to defend her?”

Bucky stepped closer, crossing his arms and giving the famous ‘Bucky stare.’ “Doesn’t matter who I am. You better back the fuck away before I make you life hell.”

A few onlookers started lingering around, some with their phones out and recording the scene, almost as if they wanted to see a fight break out between the two men. ‘Winter Soldier vs Everyday Pedestrian was sure to be trending somewhere soon enough.

“Buck,” you said quietly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and ignoring the obvious stares you were receiving, most notably from the man whose face Bucky was ready to punch in. “Let’s just go.”

You could see the gears turning in his head, trying to decide if he should let it go or punch the living daylights out of the guy. He let out a soft sigh after a moment, relaxing into your grip. With one last look at the man, he turned around and placed his hand on the small of your back, gently pushing you forward.

“Aye, it’s all good. I’m sure I’ll see that tight ass ‘round here soon anyways.”

That was the last straw for Bucky. He growled with a ferocity you hadn’t heard before and whipped around, not even hesitating to use his metal arm to punch the guy. The crowd gasped, more bringing their phones out to capture what was sure to be a great fight.

“What the fuck was-” Bucky grabbed him by his collar, pushing him up again the exposed brick of a restaurant.

“There’s plenty more where that came from and, judging by the way you’re looking at me, I bet you don’t want to see it. So do the rest of humanity a favor and fuck off.” He let go of the man’s collar and stepped back, unclenching his fist and pivoting back towards you. “Come on, doll.”

You shook the shock off your face and fell into step next to him. His arm warped around you, pulling you into his side. You could feel the fumes radiating off of him as you walked back to the tower, choosing to stay quiet as you let him cool off.

You paused once you reached the entrance of the tower. Tony probably already knew about what happened and he sure wasn’t going to be happy about it. Bucky’s media presence hadn’t necessarily been bad lately, but it wasn’t perfect either. The public was still wary. To many, the Bucky Barnes and the Winter Soldier were still the same person.

Things definitely felt off when you entered. You got the side eye from a few people in the elevator and you weren’t sure if it was because of the fight fiasco or because of how tightly Bucky was holding you to his side.

“Want to eat these in my room?” you asked once you stepped off the elevator.

“Sounds good.” His voice was distant as his eyes searched the room.

“Mr. Barnes,” FRIDAY’s voice startled the two of you, making you drop the donut holes. “Mr. Stark has requested to see you in his office.”

Bucky sighed. “I’ll be there in a few.” He picked up the bag and handed it back to you. “Apparently, I have business to attend to.”

You simply nodded. He went in the other direction towards Tony’s office pausing at the door before knocking. You sent him a thumbs up before he went in, but he didn’t look back at you to see it. You retreated to your room, placing your wallet on the dresser and popping a donut hole in your mouth.

“Maybe I should get a plate,” you wondered aloud. You needed to grab your water bottle anyways. Might as well make the trip. You put the donut holes on your bed and started making your way to the kitchen.

“She’s perfectly capable of handling herself, you know.” You couldn’t help but stop as you heard Tony’s voice through the door of his office.

“But she shouldn’t have to.” Bucky sounded stressed and you could only imagine the hell Tony was reigning on him. “Her ignoring him wasn’t going to do anything. I didn’t want to beat the guy up but he was harassing her and it needed to stop.”

“And this doesn’t have anything to do with any particular feelings you have for her, right?” The sarcasm was heavy in his voice.

“Tony-”

“I don’t want to hear it, Barnes. You know how the public sees you. I don’t know how we’re going to fix this.”

“That guy harassed her! I couldn’t stand there and just let it happen!” God, you wanted to give him a hug so bad right now.

“I don’t care what it was, Bucky. Having heart eyes for Y/N doesn’t mean-” You took that as your cue to leave. You grabbed a plate and two water bottles from the kitchen and made sure to take the long way around to your room in order to avoid whatever was going on between the two of them.

Bucky showed up a half hour later, plopping down next to you on your bed with a little more space than usual.

“I’m just saying, it could work.” Nat got off your bed. “The cookout’s starting soon. Put on something cute.” She was gone before you could respond, leaving you to look for an outfit that would, as Nat liked to say, “knock Bucky off his ass.”

---

“Ooh, Y/N, looking to impress someone?” Sam called out as you walked out into the backyard. It seemed that most everyone else was already out there, helping make dinner or sitting on the dock.

You stuck up your middle finger in reply, knowing exactly what he was trying to do.

“Oh stop it, Sam,” Wanda said as she walked towards you. “You look amazing!”

“Aww, thank you! You look absolutely stunning yourself.” Wanda reached out her hand and nodded towards the dock, urging you to come with her and join the group. You grabbed it and let her drag you down there, giving a small wave to Bucky as you passed him near the grill.

Bucky waved back, a grin spanning the expanse of his face at the sight of you. He kept his gaze on you as you made your way down to the dock, not even realizing just how intently he was staring.

“Someone’s staring at you,” Nat said with a suggestive smirk once you were close enough to the dock.

“He has a starting problem. We all know that,” you argued, sitting down across from her.

“I don’t know. He looks like he wants nothing more than to-”

“Nat, I love you, but please shut up.” She raised her hands up in the defense and Wanda giggled.

“I’m just saying.”

“You okay over there?” Steve shifted his focus from the burgers to his 100-year-old friend for a second, of course noticing the sudden silence that ensued the second you entered Bucky’s line of vision. “Buck?”

“Huh?” Bucky’s head turned sharply in Steve’s direction.

“You alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.” A shy smile.

“Are you going to ask her out soon?” He flipped some burgers over and pulled the lid of the grill closed.

“I’m getting to it, yeesh,” Bucky chuckled.

“That’s what you’ve been saying since forever.”

“And it’s what I’ll keep saying every time you pester me about it.”

“Well if you don’t make a move soon, maybe I’ll swoop in-”

“Nope! You will not do that.” He nudged Steve in the shoulder and started making his way to the dock. “You absolutely will not do that.”

Soon. He was going to do it soon.

---

“Who’s next?” Tony called from the driver’s seat of the boat. You handed Sam a towel as he got back on the boat, drenched from flying off the tube a second earlier.

“You should go with Bucky.” Wanda nudged you with a teasing smile. You glanced over to the man in question, seeing him sitting next to Steve. He wore a t-shirt and swim shorts with a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose, and he looked damn good.

“I’ll go,” you announced, standing up and taking your t-shirt off, leaving you in your favorite swimsuit and a pair of shorts. You handed Wanda the shirt so it wouldn’t get wet. “Anyone wanna go with me?” Wanda jabbed your leg and gave you a playful glare.

“Go with her,” Steve muttered to Bucky, bumping his shoulder with his own.

“I don’t know, Steve.” Bucky sighed. Steve rolled his eyes, knowing that his best friend just needed a little push.

“Bucky will go with you,” Steve said a bit louder than necessary. Bucky groaned quietly at his friend, taking off his sunglasses and putting them in his seat. He made sure to give Steve a certain look before making his way towards the back of the boat. You both grabbed your life jackets and started securing them as Sam moved out of your way.

“Cyborg!” Tony called out. “You going to take your shirt off?”

You felt Nat snort as she helped you off of the back of the boat and onto the tube. “Yeah, Bucky. Why don’t you show off your muscles for your girlfriend here.”

“Nat!” You paused for a second to look back at her with fake betrayal.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” He snapped the last clasp on the life vest and checked to make sure you were all the way on the tube so he could start getting on.

“Oh, come on, Buckaroo!” Sam laughed. He started a chant of “take it off” with the rest of the team (even you, though you’d never admit it).

“Fine,” Bucky grumbled, hastily taking off the life jacket and shirt. He threw the shirt to the middle of the boat and resecured the lifevest, ignoring Nat’s hand offered out for help as he climbed on the tube. His famous Bucky glare melted off his face the second he saw your bright smile and he found himself smiling too.

“I don’t know how well this is going to go but it’s gonna be fun,” you said as he grabbed onto the handles.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Tony’s a crazy driver and we’ve never been able to get you on a tube before. I’m betting you’ll fly off in the first three minutes.”

The tube jerked forwards before Bucky could say anything else. You started picking up speed quickly and soon enough, Bucky was holding the handles with a death grip. You ended up being right and about two minutes in, you hit a wave that threw him off.

“Are you okay?” you asked in between laughs as he struggled to get back on.

“Yeah,” he muttered, a hint of annoyance on his face. You threw a thumbs up to Tony, who nodded and started moving again. “It’s like he’s trying to throw us off.”

“Well half the fun is falling off.”

“You people have strange ways of entertaining yourselves on Sunday afternoons.”

“What would you suggest we rather do then?”

“I don’t know. Something that doesn’t involve giving myself whiplash for ‘fun.’”

“You’re such an old man.” You let go of a handle to smack his arm. Of course, at that exact moment, you hit a wave strong enough to throw both of you off. You shrieked as you flew off of the tube before smacking the water. Whether it was the lack of paying attention or a scheme by Nat and Steve, the boat kept going, leaving the two of you floating in the middle of the lake by yourselves.

“Where are they going?” You furrowed your eyebrows, though a grin was still evident on your face.

“Are you okay?” Bucky ignored your question as he swam over to you, worriedly grabbing your face and checking for injury.

“Buck, I’m fine,” you said, though you didn’t do anything to stop his injury check. He sighed and looked towards the direction the boat went. It seemed that they were already long gone.

“That shriek had me worried there for a second, doll.” His hands dropped from your cheeks and you found yourself missing his touch.

“No need to worry. I’m all good over here.”

“Good.”

A lull of conversation fell over the two of you as you treaded water. You slowly moved closer, noses almost touching when Bucky glanced down to your lips. You nodded. I want this too.

His lips brushed over yours: eyes closed and hands dipping under the water to grab your waist.

“There you are!” you heard Sam’s voice shout. You quickly separated, looking awkwardly down at the water as you tried to focus on anything but each other. “Thought we lost you. Didn’t interrupt anything, I hope.” He smirked at Bucky.

This time, it was Bucky flipping him off.

---

You tried to be quiet as possible as you tiptoed through the hallway, hoping that you wouldn’t step on any particularly squeaky floorboards in the dark. You started opening drawers once you made it to the kitchen in search of a flashlight. Did Tony even own basic technology like that?

“What are you doing, doll?” A soft voice broke you from your thoughts. A pair of blue eyes stared back at you.

“Did I wake you up?”

“No.” He shook his head.

“Oh, okay.”

“You look like a deer in headlights.” His lips turned into an almost smile. “Are you running away?”

“Just down to the dock. Need to clear my mind.” Nightmares.

He nodded. An unspoken understanding. Maybe that’s what made you such great friends.

“Mind if I join?”

“Sure.” You finally found a flashlight and grabbed it, sliding the drawer shut with your hip. You slid the glass door to the porch open, leaving Bucky to follow you out.

Warmth surrounded you as you made your way to the dock. The humidity was atrocious during the day but at night, it was somehow comforting. The buzzing of bugs in the surrounding woods brought you a level of peace that the hum of air conditioning inside couldn’t. You sat down at the edge of the dock, dipping your toes in the cool lakewater.

Bucky sat down next to you a moment later. Your silence contrasted with that of the busy summer night, but it was comfortable. Nothing needed to be said; the presence of each other was more than enough.

“You know,” he started, his gaze not leaving the shoreline across the way. “I’m here if you ever want to talk about it.”

You glanced over to him for a second, taking subtle notice of his features when his guard was down. The dark circles under his eyes mirrored yours, yet he looked relaxed.

“And what if I don’t?” The slight stain of your voice didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“I’m not going anywhere.” His head turned to meet you eyes. The soft upturn of your lips and content sigh told him that was the right answer. Your hand inched closer to his, your pinkies brushing on the splintered wood of the dock.

“How do you always know what to say?” Your gaze followed his across the lake, catching sight of a few deer grazing on the grass at the edge of the woods.

“I guess being alive for 106 years has to give me some kind of wisdom, right?”

You snorted, breaking the quiet atmosphere the two of you had created for the first time that night.

“I dunno. You’re still kind of a dumbass.”

“And you're still kind of a smartass, so where does that get us?” A grin spread across his face and there was no sight you loved more.

“God, I love seeing you smile.” A blush coated his cheeks at your words and he prayed you couldn’t see it in the dark of the night.

Your hands inched closer for a second time that night. A metal hand reached across to grab yours, his other arm going around your waist to pull you closer. Your head rested beneath his chin as he rubbed circles into your side.

“Thank you,” you mumbled after a few minutes of quiet.

“For what?”

“Your face.”

His chest rumbled with laughter and he squeezed you just the slightest bit tighter. “Glad I could be of service, doll.”

“Seriously, though . . .Thank you for being around. I know we joke around a lot but it really means a lot that you’re willing to sit out here with me.”

“I mean, technically, it was more of me inviting myself than putting myself through the torture of sitting here with you.”

You pulled away from his chest, shifting yourself so you could look at him better. “For real, Buck.” You put your hands on his cheeks. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Just do it, Bucky. Now’s the time.

He let out a breath as he smiled, looking anywhere but in your eyes as he contemplated what to do next. The hand not holding your waist came to brush back a piece of hair that had fallen in your face.

“Can I kiss you?”

You looked shocked for a moment, leaving him to wonder if he’d been reading it wrong all along. “Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry! I thought that-”

You cut him off, pressing your lips against his. Your hands moved to wrap around his neck as his grabbed your hips. It was everything you needed and yet it still wasn’t enough.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this to happen,” you breathed once you pulled away. This grin on your face mirrored his as he pressed his forehead against yours, wanting to keep you as close as possible.

“Actually . . . I think I might.” He dipped back in for another kiss, this one a bit softer than the first, but just as passionate.

A sudden breeze swept through the night and you shivered. It would have been a relief from the heat if you weren’t already having chills due to the man in front of you.

“Let’s get you back inside, doll.”

You were reluctant to let go of him. The moment you’d been waiting for for so long finally happened and you felt yourself scared to be too far from him.

You shifted your weight back so he could get up, not realizing just how close to the edge of the dock you were. Bucky let go of your hips before you could warm him and you felt yourself falling backwards in slow motion. A small yelp left your lips and Bucky’s attempt to save you was futile as your hands slipped through his.

“Cold, cold, cold!” you chanted once you surfaced, barely hearing yourself over how loud Bucky was laughing.

“Are you okay?” he choked out in between his laughter, kneeling at the edge of the dock and holding his hand out towards you. You grabbed his hand with a glare.

“I have half a mind to yank you in here with me.” His eyes widened at your words.

“Don’t you dare!” You tugged his arm lightly, just enough to get his face closer to yours.

“I guess I can spare you. Just this one time.” You pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before pulling yourself up onto the dock. “But I think I deserve a hug for my troubles.”

“Can’t deny my girlfriend that, now can I?” He pulled you into a hug, cradling your head on his chest and pressing his lips to your hairline.

“I’m your girlfriend, huh? Damn, we’re moving fast! Do you have the wedding planned already?”

“Oh please. I think we all know we’ve basically been dating for a while now.”

“Perhaps.” The two of you stayed in that position for a moment longer before another breeze came. “Should we go in now that we’re both wet and cold?”

“That sounds like a fantastic idea, doll.” Keeping an arm around each other, you slowly made your way back to the cabin, already making plans for a proper date once the trip was over.

---

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