#this chapter is spicy

[chocolix76]

I'm going into severe brainrot please ask me questions about Anima Sola. Please ask me questions that will make me have a mini crisis because they're spoilers.

I'm going so crazy I need to talk about it

[choccy-milky]

insatiable clora and (barely) resisting seb from my latest chap🌡️💕

[emryx]

“I’ve got you.”

Inspired by a fic I found on accident and I’m sobbing over the Teia characterization. 100% recommend

READ IT HERE

Written by @/saessenach <3 We need more Teia-centered works. I love my man Viago, but Teia deserves all the spotlight she can get 🫠

[s30620]

Chapter 141: Eatin' Too Many Treats

Okarun's struggle with reason and instinct this chapter was interesting. He is used to listening to reason, which is why he thought of calling Seiko to neutralize the cursed object first. However, the delinquents and their instinct to put their lives on the line and go into the game to save their friend themselves made Okarun question his reason. He would never be able to forgive himself if he just stood around while Momo gets hurt.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Sugar & Spicy Books Chapter 1

Summary:  Y/N is an accomplished writer who is newly divorced, and out of fear of the unknown, moves back to her small hometown she swore she’d never come back to.  She comes across her best friend that never left, who helps her out of a tough spot.  Will old feelings arise?  Or is she just too big for such a small place now?

Warnings:  language, smut

Next chapter

“And with all that said, you are now officially divorced,” the judge announced.

Y/N sighed heavily, closing her eyes.  The relief that flooded through her made her feel like she was floating, her heart soaring at the freedom it felt.  She opened her eyes and smiled as she stood and hugged her divorce lawyer, then started gathering her things.

“I guess that’s it,” Raphael, her now ex-husband, said as he sidled up to her.

“That’s it,” Y/N nodded, barely sparing him a glance.

“So um…everything is set up for you at the house.  All my things are out, and I got your car detailed as a, you know, sign of no ill will–”

“Raf, it’s okay if we don’t speak.  I’d rather we never spoke again,” Y/N said, finally facing him.  They looked each other over one last time before Y/N gave him a small smile.  “Goodbye,” she nodded at him, then walked out of the courtroom.

***

New York City felt too big.  The house was too big.  The car was too big.  Y/N felt like she was shrinking inside herself as she walked the too-quiet rooms of the brownstone.  She and Raf had never had any children, although he had pushed her many times over the years, sometimes too far.  But Y/N had been focused on her writing career, and not having children had made the divorce so much easier.  

“Y/N Y/L/N?  Oh my god it’s really you!  Can I get an autograph?” A woman approached her in the supermarket, smiling widely and slightly jumping as she rushed up to Y/N.

“Oh, um, yes,” Y/N stammered, taking the notebook and pen the woman shoved in her face and signing it.

“Could I get a picture?  The girls in my book club won’t believe it!”

“Sure,” Y/N smiled tightly, then tried to look pleasant as the woman wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in too close, smiling up at the phone raised high in her hand.

“Oh thank you!”  

Y/N managed to slink away from the awkward conversation that was about to ensue and quickly finished her shopping before running back home.  Her career had been successful, earning the top spot three times on the New York Times Best Sellers list, as well as book tours, big sequel book deals, and she was even in talks for one of her first books to become a movie.  The books were what would be considered “spicy” or “dark romance.”  She had no experience in actually having any spicy or dark romance in her real life.  Raf had been extremely simple in the bedroom, and part of their divorce stemmed from his insecurity about her stories.  

Six weeks after her divorce she had had enough.  She sold the brownstone, everything of value in it, the fancy car, and bought the car of her dreams:  a 1967 Volkswagen Beetle.  It was something she had always wanted, but seemed impractical or Raf would always talk her out of it.  She loaded what little she had left into the little light blue car and headed to Woodstock, Vermont.

Y/N had grown up in Woodstock.  It was a very small but scenic town that thrived mostly on tourism because of its quaint, old America charm, and access to nearby hills that made for great snow sports.  When she was 18 she had earned a full ride scholarship to NYU and had run from it as fast as she could.  It was just too small, too stifling, but now as she was dealing with how big the world felt after her divorce, she ran back home in fear and trepidation of what to do next.  

As she reached the city limits she heard the Beetle make a strange puttering sound.  “Oh no, come on, B!” she groaned as the car started to shake and struggle.  “So much for ‘it’s in tip top condition,’” she griped, pulling off the main street in town toward the first mechanic shop she saw.  The Beetle sputtered to a stop and let out a high pitched whine as she turned off the engine.  She sighed and got out of the car, kicking the tire before heading towards the shop door.  A bell tinkled when she swung it open and she looked around at the shop’s front desk and waiting area.  It was small, utilitarian, and very tidy.  In the corner she was surprised to see a small play area for children that had a number of children’s books, a small table and chair, some coloring books and coloring pencils, and a little tea set on the table.

She smiled at the set up and walked over to the front desk.  There was no one there and she looked around until she saw a doorbell button on the side of the desk with a small note taped to the desk countertop that read, “Press for Service.”  Y/N pressed it and heard a doorbell ring noise from the shop behind the door beyond the desk.

“Coming!” she heard a male voice yell.

Y/N waited, looking around the room again until the door swung open.  “Hey there, sorry I was working on something, what can I–”  Y/N gasped when she saw who it was, and his wide eyes and open mouth matched hers.  “Y/N?” he whispered.

“Bucky?” she whispered back.

Bucky’s shocked expression quickly changed into one of excitement as he smiled widely and threw his dirtied rag that he was holding on the desk.  “No fucking way!” he yelled, rounding the desk and reaching out for her.  Y/N gladly accepted the hug, giggling when he picked her up and swung her around as he held her tight.  

“My God, Buck,” Y/N huffed when he set her down.  “You look so grown!”

“Well, it has been, what…14 years since I last saw you?” Bucky said, looking at her with a disapproving but teasing look.  “You look great.”

“Oh, thank you.  So do you,” Y/N blushed.  “So, you work here now?”

“I own this,” Bucky said, gesturing to the shop.

“Oh!  That’s amazing!”  Y/N said happily.  

“Yeah, old man Pierce finally died and I took over it,” Bucky explained, smiling at the waiting room.  “But hey, you’re a big writer in New York, right?  I read your books.”

“Oh my god, please tell me you didn’t!” Y/N said with wide eyes.

“I did,” Bucky arched his eyebrows at her.  “Very spicy stuff there, Y/L/N.”

Y/N hung her head in her hands, making Bucky laugh.  “I want to die,” she whined.

“It’s okay, honey, they were spicy but good!” he reassured her, squeezing her arms.  “I liked them.  Especially that one about the uh, what was it, the mafia one?”

“Fucking hell,” Y/N shook her head, trying to hide her blush.  “I know it sounds stupid, but you just never really think about people you grew up with reading your stuff?”

Bucky’s head fell back as he laughed.  “Well, you’ve got a little fan club here in town,” he said.  

“How embarrassing,” Y/N laughed.

Bucky stared at her for a minute.  “Sorry, I just can’t believe you’re here…why are you here?” he asked with a frown.

“Well, uh, right now I’m here because my car broke down as I drove in,” she said, pointing to the Beetle outside.

Bucky turned and looked at the car, then looked back at her with a smile.  “Got that Beetle you always wanted, huh?”

“Well, just recently, but yeah,” Y/N smiled, appreciating how he remembered how much she loved old Beetles.

“Well you came to the best mechanic in town,” he smirked.  “Let me take a look.”  She handed him her keys and followed him out to the car.  Bucky popped the back and looked over the engine for a minute before sighing.  “Yeah, looks like these belts need replacing,” he said, pointing at something that Y/N didn’t understand.  “I’ll have to order them, or maybe dig around and see if I can find any nearby.  It’ll probably take me a while,” he grimaced as he looked at her.

“I got nowhere to be,” Y/N shrugged.  “So I’m happy to wait.”

“Great,” Bucky nodded, shutting the door.  He pushed the Beetle into the garage and started making calls as Y/N sat in the waiting room.  After twenty minutes he came in with another grimace on his face.  “So, um…those specific belts won’t be delivered here for about three weeks.”

“That’s okay,” Y/N said quickly, shaking her head.  “Like I said, I got nowhere to be.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes.  “Don’t you have a husband to get back to?”

Y/N sighed and shook her head again, looking away.  “No, not anymore.”

Bucky froze for a moment before stepping forward and grabbing one of the other chairs, setting it in front of her so he could sit facing her.  “Wanna talk about it?” he asked gently.

Y/N snorted.  “What do you wanna know?”

“Everything,” he replied.

Y/N smiled.  “Um…well, I was married to a very successful luxury home realtor,” she began, looking at her hands wringing in her lap.  Her naked left ring finger still had an imprint from her old ring on her skin.  “His name was Raphael.  I called him Raf.”  Bucky nodded, listening intently.  “He was…kind.  Funny.  Very ambitious, which I liked at the time.  But when my writing took off he became insecure, especially when I started out-earning him, and he felt emasculated by the stories I wrote.”

“Emasculated?” Bucky scoffed.  “Why?  He couldn’t get it up?”

Y/N laughed, Bucky joining her.  “No, he was just very…vanilla, compared to what I wrote,” she explained, making Bucky nod in understanding.  “Which I never minded, but he took some kind of weird offense to it and thought I expected too much of him in that department.”

“Idiot,” Bucky shook his head.

Y/N shrugged.  “We had a few issues over the years.  I was focused on my career, and he wanted me to have babies.  There were a few times he, uh,” she looked away again, crossing her arms over her chest.  “He was pushy about it.  We never could get over it.”

“What do you mean, ‘pushy’?” Bucky frowned, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees.

Y/N shrugged again, glancing at him.  “It’s not a big deal, Buck.”  He gave her an unimpressed look.  “He…he tried to force me, a couple of times,” she said quietly, swallowing harshly.  “Tampered with my birth control.”

Bucky’s frown deepened, a sharp huff blowing through his nose.  His jaw ticked and he looked at his hands.  He reached forward for her hands, and she met him halfway.  He studied her hands, his right thumb gliding over her empty ring finger.  “I’m sorry, honey,” he said quietly, finally looking back up at her.  “You didn’t deserve that.  I’m glad you got out.”  

Y/N stared at his intense eyes.  He’d always had a way of looking straight into her soul with those eyes, the bright blue stunning her every time.  He was an incredibly cute teenager, and seeing him as a full grown adult now, with some patches of silver dotting his beard on his chin, the fine lines deepened in the corners of his eyes, he was even more handsome.  Bucky had been her number one when they were kids, he and his family taking her in when her parents were negligent and uncaring.  Even though they had only ever been friends, he’d been her first kiss before she left for college.  It was like their final farewell before she went off to bigger and better things, while he stayed home, unable to get scholarships or have enough money to go anywhere but a trade school.  They had lost touch, but she always thought of him and how he was doing.

“Thanks…Sugar,” she winked at him.

Bucky’s eyes widened before a wide smile spread across his face again and he hung his head as she laughed.  “Man, you’re never going to let that go, are you?” he groaned.

“Nope,” Y/N shook her head.  She squeezed his hands.  “But seriously, thank you.”

“I hope you got everything out of him in the divorce,” Bucky said, letting go of her hands and sitting back in the chair.  

“I did very well,” Y/N nodded.  “I had a great lawyer.  And it was helpful that he wasn’t very good at hiding his affair.”

“Affair?” Bucky scoffed.  “That fucker cheated on you?”

“Well, who else was he going to get babies from, Buck?” Y/N asked teasingly, raising her eyebrows.

Bucky rubbed his face harshly.  “Asshole.”

“Tell me about it,” she grimaced.  “But basically, I got to keep all my book earnings, and since we were married for a while and he out-earned me those first few years, I’ll be getting alimony.  And I sold almost everything before I drove here, so I should be set for a while.”

“Good,” Bucky smirked.  “But why come back here to Woodstock of all places?”

Y/N stared at him.  “I actually don’t know,” she frowned.  “New York just suddenly felt…too big.”  

Bucky watched her for a moment.  “Do you have a place to stay?”

“No,” Y/N shook her head.  “Is the hotel on Idalia still there?”

Bucky frowned.  “Yeah, but it’s still a shithole.  You’re not staying there.”  Y/N sighed.  “You can stay with me,” he offered.

“Oh, no Buck that’s okay, I don’t wanna intrude–”

“You won’t be.”

“What about…do you have a girlfriend...wife?”

“Nope,” he shook his head.  “But I do have a daughter.”

Y/N’s mouth dropped open in shock.  “A daughter?”  He smiled and nodded.  “Oh my god!”  Y/N smiled widely.  “Is that what this is for?” she asked, gesturing to the play area in the waiting room.

“Yep,” Bucky nodded.  “Though she’s far too big for tea sets now.”

“How old is she?  What’s her name?  Wait, where’s her mom? I’m sorry, is that rude of me to ask?  I’m just curious–”

“Breathe, honey,” Bucky interrupted her.  “Her name is Autumn.  She’s about to turn ten.  Her mom and I met while I was at trade school at a party.  We were both too drunk and irresponsible.  By the time I learned about Autumn her mother was trying to give her away for adoption.  She was Catholic and hid the pregnancy from her family, then tried to get rid of the baby once she was born.”  Y/N frowned.  “I took her and her mom signed away her rights.  Haven’t seen or heard from her since.”

Y/N nodded but her frown stayed.  “I’m sorry, Buck,” she said quietly.

“It’s okay,” he shrugged.  “She’s one of the best things that has ever happened to me.  It was hard, but I wouldn’t change a thing.  My mom has been a huge help.  Speaking of which,” he leaned forward again.  “In exchange for me fixing your car, you can help babysit Autumn until I get off work.  Ma’s getting old and can’t quite keep up with her anymore.”

“You’ll…you’ll fix my car for free, and let me stay with you for the foreseeable future, as long as I watch your daughter?” Y/N scoffed.

“Yep,” Bucky nodded, his smirk returning.  “Best friends help each other out.”

“True,” Y/N smiled.  She contemplated it for a moment.  “Deal,” she said, holding her hand out.

Bucky laughed and took her hand, shaking it firmly.  “Deal,” he said.

[beauleifu]

Spicy Syntax art~

[paynomindtotheinsanity]

Yeah, how dare Tak insinuate you guys are mates…

[aster-draws]

Better Halves in a nutshell

[beskars]

a lil snippet of chapter twelve of ichthyological studies for y'all:

“Where to next?” Silco asked eventually, offering his hand.

You took it, acutely aware of how his fingers interlaced with yours, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your skin as you made for the exit. “There’s a used bookstore a few blocks from here. They have a little café inside too, if you're getting hungry.”

“Perfect,” he murmured, hesitating for a moment before adding, “Though I find myself somewhat challenged in my ability to focus on literature at present.”

You glanced up at him, your breath catching in your throat at the undisguised heat in his gaze.

“Patience,” you reminded him softly, echoing his earlier sentiment with deliberate provocation. “Wasn’t that your recommendation?”

“Indeed,” he replied, the word carrying a hint of strain as his gaze dropped briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes. “A virtue that I find myself less concerned with honoring by the second.”

You squeezed his hand, scintillas of heat racing up your spine at his words. “If I were to kiss you right now,” you began, watching him closely, “would that help to tide you over or just make it worse?” “Oh, far worse,” he murmured, that telltale curve appearing at one corner of his mouth. “Though I find myself inclined to endure the additional torment, should you feel so compelled.”

You didn't need further invitation. Rising slightly on your toes, you pressed your lips to his in what you’d intended to be a brief, chaste gesture—just enough to satisfy the craving that had been building since you’d left his office that morning.

But the moment your lips met his, something shifted. His hand came up to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing along your cheekbone as if he was trying to commit the topography of your face to memory. The tenderness of the gesture contrasted with the barely contained restraint you could feel in the tension of his body, in the careful way he held himself back.

When you finally pulled away, you were both breathing more rapidly than the brief contact should have warranted. His usually immaculate composure was noticeably disrupted—the pupil of his undamaged eye dilated, a faint flush high on his cheekbones, lips slightly parted. 

“That was…” he started, then paused, seeming uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

“Worse?” you supplied, unable to keep the smile from your face despite the heat blooming across your skin.

“Infinitely,” he agreed, voice rougher than usual as his thumb traced the curve of your lower lip with careful precision. “Yet I find myself rather desperate to make matters even more unbearable.”

“That,” you murmured, holding his gaze, “can be arranged.”

Before he could respond, you parted your lips and drew the pad of his thumb into your mouth, tongue pressing against it in a deliberate caress. You felt him go completely still, heard the sharp intake of breath as his pupil dilated further, eclipsing almost all of the seafoam green.

[behindabook2807]

The final chapters of Yang Helsing are here! Enjoy this breathtakingly spicy🔥🔥scene between our Bees 🖤💛 Will Blake make it in time before Yang loses herself forever? Will they survive in the fight against Adam? Find out by reading the last chapter. I hope you enjoy!

Thank you @dae-stuff stuff for all the stunning artwork you made for this fanfic. I am beyond blessed to have had the pleasure of getting to work with you. I hope we can do this again someday soon. You are an absolute gem of an artist and person. 💜

Please give Dae a follow on here and on her Twitter: @dae_stuff

For the naughtier/uncensored version of the spicy image you can find it on my Twitter: @BehindABook2807

[rogue-durin-16]

What if I......... What if I just........ What if I throw into the head-to-head fic a smut chapter......... Haha no no I never do that........ Or do I?.....👁️👁️

[my-world-my-stories]

When all you have to wear is a beach towel your small GF gave you because you're just too big for regular clothes. At least the toast with spicy jam is good.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Sugar & Spicy Books Chapter 7

Summary:  Y/N is an accomplished writer who is newly divorced, and out of fear of the unknown, moves back to her small hometown she swore she’d never come back to.  She comes across her best friend that never left, who helps her out of a tough spot.  Will old feelings arise?  Or is she just too big for such a small place now?

Warnings:  language, smut

Previous chapter Next chapter

The girl told everybody.  She had been secretly recording her interaction with Y/N, and after she had left the book signing had gone down the street and recorded Bucky and Autumn as they walked to the hotel.  The video went viral, as well as the pictures taken of them kissing, and suddenly Y/N’s book tour turned into a long gossip session.  

“Is he the male protagonist?”

“Are you dating?”

“Is this book based on your life?”

“When is the wedding?”

Y/N and Bucky had laughed it off at first, but when the media storm continued throughout her book tour then after it was over, they became worried.  Her hometown was overridden by tourists, journalists and photographers trying to get any and all information they could about Y/N, Bucky, Autumn, and their pasts.  Y/N had even chased away a photographer at Winnie’s house one night after dinner.

“This is ridiculous,” Winnie scoffed.  

Y/N rubbed her face harshly as she helped put away the dishes.  “I’m sorry, Winnie,” she sighed.  “I never meant for any of this–”

“I don’t blame you, sweet girl,” Winnie quickly reassured her.  “This will all blow over soon, I’m sure.”

Y/N smiled and hugged her.  Later that night as she was settling in for bed she got a phone call from an unknown number.  She stared at her phone in confusion as Bucky sat on the bed next to her, watching her.  “Do I dare?” she asked him.

“Might as well,” Bucky shrugged.

She answered and put it on speaker.  “Hello?”

“You fucking bitch,” the voice barked through the phone.

Bucky scowled and Y/N rolled her eyes.  “Raf, I told you to lose my number.”  Bucky frowned even further when she said his name.

“I knew that ex-husband character was based on me.  God, you’re so annoying.  You couldn’t just get divorced and disappear, you had to drag everyone into our business.”

“We have no business anymore.  We’re divorced.  And the character is a dramatization.  You outed yourself as a shitty husband in court. It's a public record.  I had nothing to do with that,” she sneered.  

“And now you’re parading around with some new dude, who has a kid?  You wouldn’t have kids with me but you’ll adopt some bastard from nowhere?”

Y/N stared at the phone in shock.  She had never heard Raf talk like this before.  Bucky took the phone from her.  “Listen, Raf, if you call this number or ever insult our relationship or my daughter again, I will find you and show you just how capable I am of everything that was written in that book,” he said, referencing a fight scene in the book, his voice low and menacing.  “It may be a dramatization, but I’m not.”  He hung up the phone and blocked the number before handing it to her.  “I’m going to take a walk,” he grumbled, standing and walking out the door.  

“Bucky,” Y/N said, quickly following him, trying to keep up as he went downstairs and put his shoes and a jacket on.  “Buck, wait.  Sugar please–”

“I’m fine, Y/N,” he said sharply.  “Just let me go cool down.”

Y/N slightly recoiled at his tone.  He’d never used it on her before, and it worried her.  Bucky sighed at the look she gave him and walked back over to her, cupping her face in his hands and leaning down to kiss her gently.  “I’m sorry,” he said.  “I’m fine, really, I just need to walk off my anger.”

“Are you sure?” she asked quietly.

“Yes,” Bucky nodded, nuzzling her nose.  “I’ll be back soon.”  He kissed her again before grabbing his keys and walking out.  

Y/N sighed heavily, wiping her slightly wet eyes in frustration.  She decided to take action, texting her lawyer and publicist for advice, then going upstairs.  She set up her phone in the bedroom and pressed record.

“Hey guys, it’s Y/N.  We need to talk…”

***

The next morning Y/N awoke late, looking at her phone and springing out of bed.  Before she could make it out of the room Bucky met her at the door.

“Woah, hold on, honey,” he smiled.  “Don’t worry, I took Autumn to school.”

She huffed.  “Jesus, Buck, why didn’t you wake me up?  Aren’t you supposed to be at work?  I thought I had my alarm set–”

“I’m taking the day off, nobody’s car is immediately needed.  And you did, but I turned it off,” he said.  He led her back to the bed and sat down with her.  He held her hands in his, gently rubbing her knuckles.  Bucky stared at her hands for a moment before looking back up at her.  “I’m sorry for walking out last night,” he said sadly.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Y/N shook her head.

“I just…I don’t want you to think that I just disappear when things are bad,” Bucky said earnestly.  “I was angry, and I didn’t know how else to work through it.”

“Buck, you handled it better than most people would,” she said, bringing his hands up and kissing his knuckles.  “I’m so sorry for bringing all this into you and Autumn and Winnie’s lives–”

“It’s not your fault,” Bucky shook his head.  They sat just holding hands for a few minutes, trying to process everything.  Bucky moved off the bed to kneel in front of her, hugging her around her waist and burrowing his face into her stomach.  “This isn’t exactly what I expected when you came back into my life, but I wouldn’t change a thing.  I want you, I want this,” he said while kissing from her stomach and up her chest, his arms tight around her.  “You know that, right?” he peered up at her.

Y/N smiled at him, her fingers running through his hair and scratching his scalp, making his eyes flutter shut.  “I know,” she said, leaning down and kissing him.  “I’m still sorry, though.  I made a few calls last night after you left.”  Bucky frowned.  “My lawyer is sending another letter to Raf, basically warning legal action if he won’t leave me alone.  I also talked to my publicist and made a video on my socials last night asking everybody for kindness and privacy, while also thinly veiling a threat to reporters to leave us alone or risk legal action, too.   So hopefully that helps.”

Bucky’s frown lessened at her words until he smiled softly at her.  “Thank you,” he whispered, sitting up more so he could nuzzle her nose.  “As fun as it is being your leading man, we’ve got a kid to think of.”

“We do,” Y/N smirked.

Bucky’s smile morphed into a deadly smirk.  “And maybe, in the future, another one?” he asked suggestively.

Y/N’s eyebrows raised high.  “Another one?” she breathed.  Bucky nodded, leaning in and kissing her lips lightly.  “You want a baby…with me?” she asked quietly.

He nodded again, ghosting his lips across her face.  “I know we haven’t exactly talked about our future together a lot.  But yes, I want that.  I want to marry you.  I want to have a baby with you.  I want you to be Autumn’s mom, to join the family that you’ve always been a part of since we were kids.”  Bucky kissed her lightly on her cheeks, her nose, her eyelids, her forehead, leaving her positively desperate for his lips, chasing him with her own.  “I know this has all been kinda fast since you came back, but I wanna make up for lost time with you, honey.”  He kissed down her jaw, sucking and licking at her neck.  “God, I missed you,” he whispered, sounding wounded, his fingers gripping her tighter.  “What do you say, huh?”

Y/N nodded heavily, her head leaning on his as he nipped at her throat.  “I want all of that, too,” she breathed.

Bucky slowly pulled away to look at her.  “Promise?” he whispered.

“Pinky promise,” Y/N whispered, smiling as she hooked one of her pinky fingers with his.

He chuckled, his pinky finger wrapping around hers tighter before bringing their joined hands up and kissing her knuckles.  “Pinky promise.”

[lunaatthezoo]

The Light Between Sin & Salvation: Chapter 20

Some Sunday spice for you, babes. Absolutely NSFW.

Chapter 20: My Kind of Crazy

Summary: Elain and Az spend a morning in bed.

CW: choking

Preview:

When Az awoke on the fifth day after Elain’s period had started, she was already awake, sitting up in bed next to him, reading a book in the soft morning sunlight. It was the most beautiful fucking sight he had ever seen in his life. Her hair was unbound, falling over her shoulders and breasts. The dappled sunlight was shining through her curls, making her glow like the sun at dawn. She wore what he was fairly certain was that same teeny tiny tank top from the window incident on night 1, those dainty wildflowers inked on her cleavage unfurling from between her breasts, the pendant of his necklace laying just below the hollow of her throat.

Az hummed a sound of disbelieving adoration, turning his body towards her and crossing an arm over her lap, running a hand up her thigh. Elain smiled and rested her book on her chest, looking down at him. 

“Good morning,” she said softly, twining a finger in a lock of hair curling at his neck. 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he answered before planting kisses across her waist. Elain giggled and sunk her hand deeper into his hair.

“You’re cute in the mornings,” she murmured, as he removed the book from her chest and planted his face right on the pillow of her breasts. 

“You’re cute all the time,” he answered, kissing across the top of her breasts. He snaked his hands under the blanket and ran them up her- fuck, bare- thigh. He had forgotten that she had stripped to just her undies and that goddamn tank top when she had gotten in bed last night. He groaned and ran a hand over the lace of those undies, but Elain squirmed, pulling away from him. 

Continue on AO3

[wickedwitchofthegalaxy]

☞𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒞𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒶 𝒩𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓈 𝑅𝑒𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒☜︎

☠︎ 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒯𝓌𝑜: 𝑅𝒾𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔 ☠︎

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: 𝑨𝒏𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏(𝑪𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒔)𝑿 𝑭𝒆𝒎𝑷𝒂𝒅𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒏!𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Physiological Manipulation, Mature Themes, Mentions of Past Events

𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 5.3K

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: This chapter teeters on the edge of transformation, where the promise of something greater begins to feel more like a curse than a gift.

𝒩𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈: Soooo this was totally unplanned but I thought I’d give it a go and see how y'all felt about continuing this storyline and possibly expanding it. Let me know what you think!

As always, banners done by @cafekitsune !

Enjoy 🖤

The sun dipped low, casting long shadows over the training room as you wiped your sweat-drenched face off. The room was crowded, more than usual, as trainees gathered in small groups, chatting quietly as they ran through drills.

“Come on, I didn’t even hit you!” Your friend, Lex, called from across the mat, her grin wide as she swung her training saber, trying her best to make the saber move effortlessly. Trying, being the hint word.

“Lex, you’re a maniac.” Your other friend, Abby, calls out from your side, her face also covered in beads of sweat. She takes deep, dramatic breaths, her back hunched over and hands on her knees as her head falls.

You gave her shoulder a gentle nudge as you passed her, stepping onto the mat.

“You’re getting more and more cocky, Lex. It’s actually becoming quite toxic.” You joke, swinging your own saber around in a quick, fluid motion, mimicking what Lex was attempting to do.

Lex scoffs, watching the way you swiftly twisted the saber in your hand before she blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Toxic? Me? I’m the least toxic person here. I’m like... the chamomile tea of this group.”

“Chamomile tea?” Abby repeats, arching a brow as she dusts off her robes. “Lex, you’re more like... a bottle of spice syrup someone accidentally knocked over into their drink. Chaotic and hard to swallow.”

“Wow, rude,” Lex shoots back, feigning offense as she takes a mock swing in Abby’s direction. “But that was three years ago. If I was so toxic, wouldn’t I have caused more… I don’t know… damage?”

Abby sidesteps easily, throwing her arms wide. “If we’re talking about damage, I’d like to remind you of the time you thought it’d be a great idea to duel Master Purn to ‘test his reflexes.’”

Lex cackles, the sound sharp and unrepentant. “In my defense, his reflexes needed testing. How was I supposed to know he’d use the Force to flip me into the meditation pool?”

You grin, sliding into your own stance and raising your saber, bringing Lex’s attention back to you. “I don’t know, maybe because he’s a Master and you’re... well, you?”

Lex points her saber at you, her grin widening. “Bold talk for someone who got ‘accidentally’ locked in the supply closet last week. Who was behind that again?”

“Oh, definitely an accident,” Abby threw over her shoulder as she walked around the edges of the mat, her voice dripping with mock innocence. “Totally not orchestrated by someone who thought it’d be hilarious.”

Lex shrugs, clearly unbothered as you both start circling. “Hey, you needed some alone time to reflect. Consider it... a gift.”

You roll your eyes. “Some gift. I was in there so long I memorized the Jedi Code backward.”

“Wow,” Abby says, clapping her hands slowly. “A true scholar emerges. Next thing we know, you’ll be reciting Master Purn’s lectures for fun.”

“Okay, let’s not go that far.” You reply, spinning your saber before faking a quick step towards Lex. She takes the bait and quickly steps back, giving you a small look when she recovers. You grin as you continue, “At least I didn’t blow up the training dummies during practice.”

Lex holds up a hand. “Hey, those dummies had it coming. I was innovating.”

“You overloaded the power cells,” Abby says flatly. “They exploded.”

Lex lunges at you, her saber coming down in a wide arc. You block it easily, the clash of the sabers sending a soft clunk echoing through the room. You push back, stepping into her space as you twist your wrist, forcing her saber downward.

“Come on, Lex, who taught you that move?” you taunt, grinning as she huffs in frustration.

“Give me a minute!” Lex retorts, stepping back and resetting her stance. “I’m just warming up.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” you reply, glancing at Abby, who’s watching with an amused expression.

“Admit it—you’d miss me if I wasn’t here to spice things up.” Lex adds, beginning the circling again.

You follow her lead, as Abby sighs dramatically from the side. “It’s like being friends with a hurricane. A very talkative hurricane.”

“A hurricane with style.” Lex corrects, striking a mock heroic pose.

The banter was easy, familiar—a rare pocket of normalcy in a routine that had grown more intense with each passing week. You could feel the eyes of the instructors watching from the edges of the room, their silent appraisals heavy with expectations.

It had been four weeks since you snuck out to the Underground with Lex and Abby. After the long and painful solo walk home, you had given the two of them a call to let them know you got back to your room before you let the anxiety of the upcoming trials and tests for graduation overtake and consume your thoughts, pushing down anything to do with that man or that bar.

You knew you were close to graduating, closer than most of the others here, and that only made the pressure more tangible. Every step forward felt like a test of its own, every glance from your instructors a challenge you had to meet.

Starting your training late hadn’t done you any favors either. Most Padawans began their journeys as young children—eight, maybe ten if they were late bloomers. At eighteen, you were among the oldest in the academy, and though your peers shared the same delayed start, the stigma wasn’t easy to ignore. It was a constant reminder that you were running out of time to prove yourself.

Before Lex can make another move, the door to the training room slides open with a sharp hiss, and a mechanical voice erupts in the large space.

“Apologies for the interruption,” the protocol droid states, its metallic tone cutting through the lively chatter of the room and echoing off the tall walls. Its polished bronze exterior gleams under the overhead lights as it strides forward. “Trainee Y/N, you are requested to report to the Council Chamber immediately.”

Silence.

You freeze mid-motion, lowering your saber as every eye in the training room turns toward you. Even Lex and Abby look momentarily stunned, the playful energy dissipating like smoke in the air.

“Uh…” Lex starts, lowering her own saber and glancing at Abby. “What’s this about?”

The droid doesn’t answer, its expressionless face making the moment feel draining.

A few whispers broke out among the other trainees, but they were quickly silenced with a sharp look from the instructors.

You shift uncomfortably, a knot forming in your stomach. “Is there a problem?” you ask, directing the question to the droid.

“I am not privy to the Council’s intentions,” it replies curtly, its head tilting slightly as if to gesture for you to follow. “You are to come with me immediately. No delays.”

Abby takes a step forward, her brows furrowing. “We’ll come too,” Lex offered quickly, Abby nodding in agreement as they both moved toward you.

The droid swivels its head toward Lex but doesn’t answer directly. Instead, it turns back to you. “Only Trainee Y/N is required. Please proceed now.”

Lex steps closer to you, her hand brushing against your arm. “Y/N…” she starts, her voice uncharacteristically uncertain and strangely quiet.

You force a smile, masking your own unease. “I’m sure it’s nothing.” The girls exchanged a worried glance, but they stayed where they were, clearly reluctant to let you go.

You nodded, offering them a small, reassuring smile even as your mind warred. You could feel the collective gaze on you as you followed the protocol droid out of the room. The absence of their warmth feels immediate, almost jarring, as if you’ve stepped into another world entirely.

The door hisses shut behind you, leaving the hum of training sabers and soft murmurs far behind. You’ve walked these hallways a hundred times, but now every detail feels magnified, every shadow stretching farther than it should.

The halls are quieter than you’d expected, the usual foot traffic subdued as you walked in step with the droid. “What’s going on?” you asked after a moment, unable to keep the question from slipping out.

The protocol droid doesn’t stop or slow its pace; its polished exterior gleams faintly under the breezeway lights, which is your only form of an answer until its robotic voice speaks up.

“The Council has made a decision regarding your future,” it replies simply, its tone infuriatingly chipper. “How exciting!”

You barely register its response, its tinny enthusiasm clashing with the growing tension in your chest. A decision? Regarding my future? The possibilities churned in your mind as you followed it through the long, polished hallways of the Temple.

The soles of your boots echoed softly against the smooth floor. Each step feels heavier than the last, the sound amplified in your ears like the steady beat of a drum, like each stride was a chance, a choice.

You force yourself to breathe evenly, to concentrate on the familiar surroundings: the intricate carvings lining the walls and the faint scent of incense wafting through the air. The arches and curves loomed larger than usual, their designs etched in stark relief against the soft glow of the lights.

Calm. Control. Focus.

The mantra comes unbidden, but now it felt like trying to hold water in your hands. Your thoughts were as scattered as the low chatter of the trainees you’d just left behind.

The Council’s decision could mean anything—had you done something wrong? The twisting in your stomach tightened with each passing thought as the droid led you around a corner, the Council Chamber doors now in sight.

They appear more daunting than ever; the entangled carvings in the wood glow vaguely, and for some reason this was the first time you had really given it a good look. They seem alive, almost springing with the burden of the decision waiting on the other side.

The droid stops a few paces from the entrance, turning to you with its usual brisk formality. “You may enter. The Council awaits.”

You hesitate, your pulse quickening. For a moment, you think of Lex and Abby, their worried expressions still fresh in your mind. I hope they’re not freaking out too much, you think, a faint smile tugging at your lips before it vanishes.

The heavy doors slid open with the familiar faint hiss, revealing the ominous circular chamber. Your heart rages in your chest as you step inside, the air noticeably cooler.

The semicircle of Council members sits before you, their faces calm but indecipherable. Master Yoda’s small frame is centered among them, barely filling the chair’s width. Beside him, Mace Windu’s gaze scrutinized you with a discreet vigor. Other familiar faces—Obi-wan, Kit Fisto, Plo Koon—flank them, their postures serene and suave while their eyes oozed judgment.

Your steps falter as your eyes catch movement. Seated beside Obi-Wan, arms crossed, is Anakin. His presence was unmistakable, a magnetic pressure that bends the air and shifts the room’s energy, or perhaps just your own. His expression is a collision of smug satisfaction and simmering impatience, the corners of his mouth hinting at something unspeakable.

He wouldn’t be thinking about that right now, would he?

The question roams in your head, but it’s quickly snuffed out by flashes of that night. The scent of bitter blood of the past erupts; you can practically taste it. With a swirl of your tongue, you find it’s not your imagination—the taste of copper is real; you had bit down into your cheeks, the red liquid pooling in your closed mouth.

“Step forward, Y/N,” Master Windu’s voice breaks through the silence, his tone firm but sympathetic as it echoes off the high, windowed chamber walls.

You obey. What else can you do? Taking measured steps, you stand at the center of the room, the Council’s combined stare resting heavily on you. The circle of them feels infinite; their eyes are oppressive as a black hole—nearly strangling, leaving you choking in its merciless pull.

And then there’s him.

Anakin’s eyes are magnets, pulling, trapping, forcing. Though he says nothing, his peering eyes are impossible to ignore. The memories of those eyes—the appetence, the control—crawl over your skin like insects. You resist the urge to recoil, but every step toward the center of the chamber it feels like stepping deeper into his shadow.

Master Yoda begins, his voice low and cracking, as if he were whispering a prophecy. “Decided, your future has been.” His ears twitch slightly as he regards you with wise, ancient eyes.

Your breath catches in your throat, sharp and ragged.

Decided? Already?

You fight to keep your expression neutral, the words and thoughts racing wildly in your mind.

Acid boils up your throat, dissolving the soft tissue it touches, as if your body is rebelling against the air itself. It takes everything in you to swallow it back down.

Master Windu leans forward, his words unforgiving in their clarity. “Your performance has been exceptional, Y/N. The Council recognizes your dedication and skill, and after much deliberation, we have decided that you are ready to take the next step in your training.”

The phrases landed like a gavel.

Ready. The next step.

You blinked, trying to process what this meant.

“You are to be assigned to a Jedi Master,” Windu continues. “A rare honor, especially considering your age and the limited number of Knights available to train Padawans at this time.”

Your heart convulses—a sudden, erratic spasm of exhilaration and disbelief. This is it. I’ve been chosen. The toll of the moment presses hard against you, grounding your excitement, and the master’s next words only bring the cold reality crashing down even harder, the bile rising back into your throat.

“However,” Windu says, the single word slicing through the fragile shell of your nausea as his voice dips, “it has not been an easy decision.”

Your eyes flicker toward Anakin, a mistake. His jaw tightens, the muscle twitching as he shifts in his seat. His eyes trace you—not with curiosity, no, he knows exactly what’s under your robes. He’s cataloging you, committing every movement to memory. His earlier smugness has curdled into something darker, the edges of frustration sensuous against his expression.

“Suggested, Master Skywalker did,” Yoda said, his tone soft but pointed, “that to him, assigned you be.”

Your gut tightens, a vehement twist of nerves, as your blood pummels through you. Your skin suddenly starts feeling unwelcoming, and each breath is a chore, the air scraping against your lungs—a visceral rejection of the words as they take root in your mind.

“But we’re not entirely in agreement on that.” Windu interjects, his hand rising, gesturing broadly around to each of the Council members.

You barely have time to process what Windu’s words might mean before more movement draws your attention.

Anakin’s fingers flex and uncurl against the armrests of his chair. He leans forward slightly, the tension in his shoulders coiling.

“You’re making a mistake,” he says. His voice was hushed and venomous, carving through the space with a lingering chill. “She belongs with me. You all know that.”

Wait—what did he say?

You glance at him, your eyes widening despite yourself. There’s a moment of silence, a heavy pause as the oxygen is eaten up by electric tension. Anakin’s eyes burn into Windu’s, his anger visible, and Windu returns it with a narrowed gaze.

“The decision has been made, Anakin. Your role now is to focus on the war. Not on training a Padawan.” Master Windu’s voice cuts in, his tone stern and slightly annoyed, like this isn’t the first time he’s had to tell Anakin this.

Anakin doesn’t flinch at the rebuke, but his knuckles whiten as he grips the armrests. His shoulders rise and fall with each breath, barely contained fury leaking out in the subtle tremors of his movements. His eyes twist to Yoda’s, “I can do both,” he insists, his voice pointed and more stubborn. “I’m more than capable.”

The Masters exchange glances, a silent conversation passing between them.

“Capable you are,” Yoda replies, his tone taking on an unyielding undertone to his usual laid-back manner. “Ready, you are not.”

Master Windu’s eyes grow empathetic as he tries to find a middle ground. “Anakin, you know we’re considering another master for her. One who has more time and is better prepared for this—”

Anakin stiffens in his seat, his head snapping toward Windu. “No,” he roars, his voice sharper this time, his frustration growing and becoming even more obvious to the other Council members. “You’re shipping her off to sit on the sidelines; she’ll never reach her full potential without the guidance of someone willing to—“

“Assigned you are—to Luther Koth. Final, it is.” Yoda insists, his voice rising and eyes stabbing daggers into Anakin. The whole room seems riled by his defiance, and the feeling seems to be directed at you.

The room tilts slightly as Yoda’s words sink in.

Luther Koth?

You’ve heard the name in passing, but you’ve never met him. The thought is disorienting, a crack splintering through the precarious balance of your emotions.

“Master Yoda,” Anakin persists, his voice rising slightly, and he half-stands, his body looming like a storm cloud ready to erupt. “you can’t just—”

“Enough, General Skywalker.” Yoda interrupts sharply, his eyes burrowing deeper on Anakin, “Strong in the Force, you are, but in check, your influence must be. Your path in the Republic is not to train Padawans at this time.”

“At this time,” Anakin repeats in a low mock, barely above a whisper, as his expression darkens while looking between the Masters. “This isn’t about my ability to focus; this is about her and her future—”

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan’s voice is like a whip crack, startling in its incisiveness. He rises from his seat, his hand raised in a silent command for Anakin to stand down. You glance at Obi-Wan, your heart hammering. His posture broadens and his eyes flash with warning as he continues, “This isn’t the time or place for this argument. You know better.”

Anakin doesn’t back down. His gaze flicks to Obi-Wan, then back to Yoda, his jaw tightening further as if clamping down on whatever he wants to say next.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin snaps, his head swiveling back to Obi. His vexation is evident in every muscle, every twitch. He looks like he’s about to snap. “I’m insisting.”

“No, I’m insisting.” Obi-Wan steps forward, his body angled slightly toward Anakin as if preparing to physically block him from advancing. His voice is low and punctuated as he follows up, “You need to step back. This isn’t about you or her right now.”

Your breath catches as Anakin’s eyes sweep back to you, searing into you with an intensity that feels almost physical. For a moment, the room fades—the Council, the chamber walls, even the low hum of air. All that remains is the haze of his stare and the unspoken promise it carries.

What the hell is he thinking?

“General Skywalker,” Windu cuts in, his voice colder now, expression solidifying into stone as he leans forward, like he too is getting ready to physically stop Anakin. “This discussion is over. You are out of line.”

Anakin straightens to his full height, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths as his cold edge sliced through the room. For a moment, it seems as though he might say something else, his lips parting—but then he stops. His breath hisses through his teeth as he crosses his arms. His rage coils beneath his skin, snarling, seething to break free, primed to explode.

You swallow hard, your throat dry as sandpaper. You’ve seen that look before; you’ve seen it up close. You wish you could disappear into the stone beneath your feet, to be anywhere other than here.

“You’re wrong,” he finally says, his voice barely above a whisper, but the words slam into the room, and they’re thick, as if they were made of lead and everyone was being forced to breathe them in. “All of you.”

For what feels like the longest five seconds of your life, Anakin doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. He just stands there, his eyes flickering between the Council members before finally settling on you. The room holds its breath.

And there it is again—that unspoken promise.

Your feet feel numb, like you have a gaping wound and are too far gone; the pins and needles feeling of blood loss. If the Council dismissed you right now, there would be zero chance you could pick up your legs and actually walk. That’s what his gaze did; it made your knees jelly and your spine snap in on itself. You weren’t sure if it was the Force or something deeper, nor did you have time to think about what reasons Anakin’s gaze was so different.

He exhales sharply as he lowers himself back into his seat, the large chair scraping against the floor with a dissonant screech. He rolls his shoulders, relaxing them as if dismissing everything that just happened, brushing the entire encounter off, as if the air didn’t crackle with the residue of it.

It's like he’s discarded the weight of the confrontation like a loose garment—yet there’s no mistaking that it’s still there, a rancid pulse between you all, stifling every breath. The others exchange looks, the tense stillness now broken only by the soft shuffle of robes as they all settle back into their seats.

You want to scream; you want to cuss him out like you should have that night; instead, you break the everlasting silence the rest of the council has been stunned into, your voice surprising even you with the confidence it carries behind it.

“If I may,” you state, not waiting for their full attention as you continue, “I’m honored to be assigned to Master Koth, and I don’t take this recommendation from the Council lightly. I will serve the Republic with everything I have. The stars will bend if those are my orders.”

Shock carves itself into the faces of the Council members, all their eyes dawning in on you. Anakin’s eyes are the harshest; you can feel them burning into the side of your face like twin suns. You keep your focus forward, refusing to turn toward him again.

“Strong words these are. Confidence you show, but prove yourself, you must.” Yoda’s tone carries no reproach, only an obstinate expectation, like the galaxy itself will hold you accountable.

“Indeed,” Master Windu adds, his presence back to the practiced ease that all the generals and masters plaster on their faces. “Serving the Republic is not just a matter of bending stars or showing resolve—it requires understanding, discipline, and the ability to make difficult choices. Master Koth will demand nothing less from you.”

You nod quickly, instinct taking over as you bow your head. “I understand, Masters. I won’t fail.” The words spill out, firm but automatic, and you’ve never been more proud of yourself.

Master Obi-Wan, still recovering from the heated debate, sits forward slightly. His tone softer than the others, but his words carry no less gravitas. “Master Koth is a man of principle and precision. He’s demanding but fair. Under his guidance, you’ll learn to navigate not just the battlefield, but the intricacies of what it means to truly be a Jedi.”

And then, like clockwork, Anakin shifts in his seat. His posture is casual, almost disinterested, but his energy is anything but. His gloved fingers drum once against the armrest before his voice cuts through the Council's focus on you. “She’ll be fine,” he says, his tone deceptively glassy. His eyes flick toward you, and you feel the sting of his stare as he adds, “After all, she’s earned it.”

The words stick to you like barbs, digging into every insecurity you thought you had buried. You didn’t want to think it, didn’t want to have it confirmed that the exact and only reason you’re standing in the middle of the greatest Jedi of this century is because you were a slave for a night.

It’s not praise. Not really.

You feel your heart thud painfully against your ribs, and for a split second, you wonder if this is what a heart attack feels like.

Earned it.

The phrase clings to your thoughts like oil on water. His words weren’t an endorsement; they were a reminder, a branding. A mark that would be with you forever, no matter what path you take.

You hold yourself still, despite your mini heart attack, your lips forcing a polite smile, and the quiet resolve in your chest swells just enough to remind you that you are here for more than just Anakin’s twisted perception of you.

The silence stretches until Master Yoda speaks, his voice cold and drained. “You may go. Prepare for your meeting with Master Koth. Tomorrow, it will be.”

You bow again, a little deeper this time, feeling every eye in the room on you. The finality in Master Yoda’s voice motivates your previously jellied legs into a half jog until the heavy doors close behind you. Even then, you don’t stop, your jog turning into a full sprint. Your arms pump furiously, pushing your body forward.

Earned it. Earned it. Earned it.

His voice—the phrase—is a poltergeist, a haunting in its own right. You try to push it away, but Anakin’s words seem to cling to you, like a shadow you can’t outrun, but you’ll be damned if you won’t try. Your feet put more distance between you and the Council’s chambers, but your mind is still trapped in the middle of it.

As you round a corner, you come face-to-face with your two friends. Nearly toppling over them as their arms secure you, both of them speaking too quickly for your already racing mind to grasp.

“Whoa, slow down, Y/N. What happened?”

“Yeah, are you ok? Did they find out about us sneaking out?”

You want to tell them everything—the drunken spill, the velvet-lined back rooms, the violence, the desire, the new position—but the words never leave your lips.

Tell them! Why are you questioning their intentions? They’ve never betrayed your trust. They’ve never done anything to ever insinuate that they would be anything but forgiving.

“Yeah,” you say, the smile you force out too tight, too strained. “I’m fine. Just… just…”

Tears prick at your eyes, and within seconds both girls are steering you to the dorms, both their arms wrapping tightly around either side of you like a blanket of protection.

The familiar, comforting warmth of their embrace is almost enough to make the tears pour out, but the words still lash at your insides, louder now than before.

Earned it.

Your blood pumps furiously through your veins, pulsing in your ears to the point where your friends voices are muffled, their words a jumble of vibrations. You feel the walls closing in, your lungs shrinking with each breath. But you can’t say it. You can’t tell them everything; you can’t shatter what little remains of your dignity. You need to keep it together.

Lex’s voice cuts through the haze, and though her words are soft, they pierce the growing fog around you. “You don’t have to hide it, you know. Whatever happened in there… you don’t have to keep it all in.”

You stiffen, a rush of panic flooding your chest.

How did she know?

But before you can respond, Abby adds, “We’re here for you. Screw them.” Her voice is quieter than Lex’s and holds a hint of humor but is equally concerned.

You find yourself retreating even further inward, madly trying to build barriers, to lock every detail away where they can't see it. Where you can’t feel it. You want to tell them, to let them help, but you can’t bring yourself to. You don't know how to explain the tangled mess inside you.

Your throat feels tight as you give them a small, weak nod, not trusting your voice to sound anything but broken. “I know... thanks, I just... I need some time.”

They guide you to your bed, sitting beside you and just letting the silence fill the space between you.

But even in your safe spot, next to your best friends and a good distance away from any higher up, Anakin’s words continue to reverberate through your mind.

Earned it.

Each time it echoes, it feels like another wound is being sliced into your back, like the physical embodiment of betrayal.

“Whatever’s going on... we’ll figure it out together.” Lex’s hand rests on your shoulder as she shuffles closer to you. You want to believe her. You want to, but you don’t. It’s like your body is trying to protect something, some part of you that’s still... untouched. Maybe it’s your pride, maybe it’s the fear of being completely vulnerable, but either way, the words won’t come out, and you can’t seem to shake the feeling that your life has just been uprooted in the worst way possible.

Instead, you lie back against the bed, your hands gripping the edge of your blanket, and just stare up at the ceiling.

Abby leans in slightly, her face in your view blurring as your eyes unfocus. “We know something’s up. You don’t have to tell us what happened in there, but if you ever want to talk... we’re not going anywhere.”

The words don’t land as they should. They don’t wrap around you the way they always have. They just make you feel heavier, more guilty. It’s almost worse, in some ways—being so close to the answers you can’t bring yourself to give.

Anakin’s words continue to torment your dazed mind, like a private torture session.

I bet he’d love this. Love to know how completely frozen you were. How fucking pathetic.

You turn your head slightly to the side, staring at the wall as if it could give you some reprieve from the chaos in your mind. But it doesn’t.

Earned it.

With every second that passes, that feeling of being trapped deepens. There’s no escape from his voice in your head, no hiding from the truth that it’s now a part of you. But somewhere, deep in the hollow ache in your chest, something else stirs. A sensation, too fresh to name, but oh so familiar.

It’s the flicker of something perilous, something dark and twisted, something that has been waiting for this moment. You try to ignore it, but it's there now, and maybe it always has been, crawling just beneath your feeble ego. It fills the space in your veins that his words froze with a fever that isn’t entirely unpleasant.

Earned it.

For the first time, you let yourself wonder if there's truth in it. Not the way Anakin intended, not the way he made you feel small, but a different truth, a truth that’s far more unsettling: What if you did earn it? What if everything that happened—that night, the Council, even this—was a consequence of destiny, true destiny?

What if you were already changed, and you just didn’t know it yet?

You sit up suddenly, the movement enough to make them both jump. The words you've been holding back, the questions, the doubts—they spill from your lips as they form in your mind.

“I don’t think I can be the person I was anymore,” you whisper, not meeting their eyes, because you know if you do, you’ll see the pity. You can’t bear that.

Anakin’s words have taken root in you, not just as a form of self-torture but as something far more insidious. A seed planted in the fibers that are you, ready to grow into something more dangerous than any of you can imagine.

Something alters. Not in the room. Not in them. But in you. It’s a momentary flicker, a beam of clarity—a glimpse of a hunger that was deeply buried.

You straighten your back, standing abruptly. You feel the energy change, like a charged current is propelling you forward. You turn and face the two of them, their eyes two pairs of shock and confusion as you speak, your voice more confident and certain than ever before.

“But I feel good. Yeah, I feel great.”

[aster-draws]

so... very important question. In Better Halves, are Danny and Tim kisses going to become a lot more common now that they've had their first real one? Please, for the love of god, don't make them wait 10 more chapters.

lovingly, an anon that needs to see them fuck nasty

Okay fair question! Yes, kisses will be (relatively) more common now, but I don't count this as their first 'real' kiss- although arguably it should be- the first real kiss is somewhere in chapter 34? Ish. More or less around there.

Look. I said slow burn and I goddamn MEANT it. it's gonna be nearly 200k before they Approach the idea of it not being fake anymore (despite the fact that it never really was to begin with). they're. complete unmitigated disasters.

and as for them fucking nasty (with understanding that was likely meant to be somewhat sarcastic). Currently the plan is to keep it at a teen rating. But. obviously aspects of this have gotten away from me in the past. Keep an eye on the rating because. Idk there are gonna be moments and that's all I'll say. (if i write them, i'll change the rating as I do, so hopefully with a good few chapters before hand. or maybe I'll post an alt version with the ma content? idk we shall cross the bridge when we arrive to it)

For your reference though, here's how many kisses are in each chapter i have completely written (this may depress you) (also below a read more for the spoilers aspect of it all.)

chapter 20- 1 kiss (on cheek)

21- 0 kisses

22- 0 kisses

23- 0 kisses

24- 0 kisses (somehow oh my GOD)

25- 1 kiss (on lips)

26- 1 kiss (on lips) (also the first Proper kiss since chapter 19. imo)

27- 2 kisses (1 on forehead, 1 on lips)

28- 0 kisses

29- 0 kisses

30- 0 kisses

do not let the amount of 0's grieve you, for most of those the boys aren't even in the same state (or country) so. not chapter 24 tho that's fucking miserable yearning i won't lie