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cuffmeinblack · 1 year

Text

Retribution

Ominis Gaunt x f!OC

ao3 link

9k words

Summary: Ominis has kept his romantic involvement with Maerys a secret from his family for her own safety, but a pending betrothal causes complications. Maerys confronts his family with the hope of acceptance but gets more than she bargained for.

A/n: I wrote this for my giveaway winner @huntress-valkyrie with her OC Maerys Baratheon 🖤, originally meant to be under 4k words but I loved the idea so it ended up much longer. Especially the Kaz Brekker quote prompt.

There's also a slightly-spicy, sweet bonus audio.

The past year had been extraordinary in many ways, a year of firsts for Maerys—the start of a career she felt so passionately about, a new place to live away from the castle she had called home for several years. The most remarkable may have been finding her long-held affection for Ominis Gaunt returned tenfold, settling into what could only be described as domestic bliss within a few short months.

Their careers kept them apart for long periods of time, but they both found their way back with increasing fervour, spending the hours they had together living life to the fullest. The minute Maerys opened the door to their shared house, Ominis had scooped her up into his arms, forgoing his interrogation of her day's activities to show her his adoration and remind her that she was his . Though he never said it, he despised that her job in Magical Law Enforcement was so dominated by men, all eager to be on first name terms with the exciting new female investigator.

Ominis' love was more intense than anything she'd expected—once he had admitted his feelings and she had reciprocated, he began courting her with a ferocity that took her breath away. Their love was all consuming and Maerys knew that Ominis would do absolutely anything for her, save one. He would never reveal her existence to his family.

Maerys understood, to some extent, why—their absolute disdain for her kind was well known, and had caused a world of problems for Ominis who had dealt with the tainted Gaunt name. They would never allow him to openly be with someone who they deemed so beneath them; to use their words, a witch with dirty blood . She had fought and fought to tell them but Ominis had refused her for what may have been the very first time. She knew it wasn't a matter of Ominis' shame, but in her darker days the demons reared their ugly heads to convince her otherwise. Today was one of those days.

The past twelve hours had been utterly gruelling; the culmination of months of planning was an arrest of epic proportions involving over a dozen officers from the department, all after an elusive wizard who had thus far managed to defraud hundreds. Their hard work had paid off, and Maerys, whilst exhausted to her bones, was eager to make the most of it. So rarely did her colleagues get to enjoy such a monumental event.

"We're off to the Leaky Cauldron if you want to join us, Mae," Felicity offered, tucking her wand back into her holster.

"Love to. I don't want to stay too late though…," Maerys replied.

"I know."

Of course they knew—everyone knew that she spent every spare moment she had with Ominis. Their schedules didn't allow for too much of a social life, and whilst she missed having a more active circle of friends, she had priorities. Tonight was a rare opportunity to mingle with the witches and wizards she spent hours with every day, without the constant talk of Ministry bureaucracy.

The Leaky Cauldron was packed to the rafters with those enjoying a post-work beverage to blow off steam; harried-looking wizards in smart, pressed robes and Wizenagamot pins attached to their collars lined the bar looking thoroughly exhausted. Maerys wondered who'd they'd been sentencing—by the looks on their faces, the trial hadn't been an easy one.

"Firewhiskey, please," Maerys directed the barkeeper, who nodded and flicked his wand to pour the deep amber liquid.

"Same," a voice appeared beside her.

"Nicholas," Maerys nodded in greeting at the tall man beside her.

"Starting on the strong stuff, I like it."

"I have limited time, I may as well make the most of it."

"It's alright to spend a little time away from your guard dog," he said, a hint of distaste in his voice.

Maerys rolled her eyes and threw back the whiskey, signalling for another before it had slid down her throat. Bitterly, she thought that of course, Nicholas would use this opportunity to berate her choice of partner and try to convince her of his own virtues. There was no end to the amount of people in her line of work who had taken an instant dislike to Ominis because of his family name. With a sigh, Maerys knew then that the night would be a long one.

"Are you okay?" Ominis' strained voice rang through the hallway.

Maerys closed the door, barely being able to step foot inside before she was clumsily enveloped by Ominis' arms. She sank into the embrace, her muscles releasing the tension they'd held since the day began.

"I'm fine, it went well."

"Where have you been?" Ominis asked with a slight frown. "I was worried sick."

"I'm sorry," Maerys said, cupping his cheek in her hand. "We went to celebrate afterwards."

"Ah."

Ominis' nose flared, a sure sign that he was quietly seething. There was no love lost between Ominis and her colleagues, particularly when they were so openly flirtatious towards her.

That didn't stop him from gripping her waist, or pressing his mouth against those soft, pillowy lips. Nor did his anger stop the desire that coursed through his veins, his possessive brand of love overcoming any and all inhibitions in a frantic need to claim her. The fire in their lovemaking burned so hot it threatened to consume them both in those moments, both wordlessly conveying that they belonged only to each other, forever and always.

As they basked silently in the afterglow, Ominis traced the flame-shaped birthmark on Maerys’ lower back as he often did—the skin textured differently to the surrounding flesh, the rough patch always guided his delicate fingers there. At one point, the attention to the red blemish might have bothered her, but she had since come to love it as much as his own imperfections; the beauty marks that flecked his cheeks and continued down his body reminded her of constellations, something to be celebrated and marvelled at, not hidden away.

“I wanted to discuss something with you…but perhaps now isn’t the most opportune moment,” Ominis said quietly, more to himself than to Maerys.

Her interest piqued, Maerys raised herself up onto her elbows and turned her head to look at Ominis, her mahogany locks cascading onto the pillow below her. Ominis continued his rhythmic stroking of her back, his touch noticeably gentler.

“What is it? Now’s a good a time as any.”

Ominis took a few seconds to collect his thoughts as she waited with bated breath, noticing the way his brows pinched slightly between his eyes and his kiss-swollen lips pursed. The face was familiar, one of either great concentration or great discomfort.

“It’s quite a delicate subject but I promise you I have no intention of fulfilling my obligation.”

Maerys’ heart thumped in her chest and she sat up on the bed, staring down at her beloved with unbelieving eyes. Finally, the day she’d dreaded had come, a mere year into their courtship.

“Who?”

Ominis sighed and lifted himself off the mattress to sit next to Maerys, his fingers tracing her goose pimpled flesh to find her contorted face, cupping her cheek lovingly.

“A…cousin. I promise you, I have no intention of marrying her, or anyone else.”

“This never would have happened if you didn’t insist on keeping me a secret, Ominis.”

“For your own safety , Maerys.”

“Or for your own convenience?”

“ How can you say that? I want nothing more in this world than to declare my love for you. You must know that by now.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore, Ominis. Perhaps another day, but I’m exhausted.”

“I’m sorry, my love. I love you…most ardently.”

Maerys had neither the energy or inclination to reply, merely settling back onto the bed and waiting for Ominis, who sighed and lay back a moment later. She may have been able to hold a grudge, but there was no reason why she would deprive herself of his warmth on such a cold day. She told herself that the blustery winds and driving rain outside the window was reason enough to need the extra heat, and certainly not because she craved his comfort.

The tension carried on into morning, with Maerys finding herself so distracted making breakfast that a wayward flick of her wand left the kitchen covered in goopy porridge. Ominis took over shortly after that, his eyebrows never fully relaxing as he rolled up his shirt sleeves to prepare them some much-needed fuel.

Maerys watched Ominis cook, as always finding his care and attention to detail entrancing. She quietly sipped her tea, stewing over what he'd divulged the previous evening, and finding herself at a loss as to how to proceed. She was angry— of course at his despicable family but at Ominis , too.

It was high time his father knew about Maerys and accepted her. Whether or not he would was another issue, but she wouldn't tolerate such a slight as to be so completely unacknowledged. The milky Darjeeling slid down her throat and warmed her stomach as she formed a plan for her day off work and Ominis served their food, none the wiser. He would thank her later, even if it meant a day or two of flared tempers culminating in a passionate reunification.

"Eat up," Ominis said, breaking Maerys out of her daydream.

Ominis rolled down his sleeves and smoothed his waistcoat as he settled at the table. The breakfast was delicious, as it usually was when Ominis prepared it.

“What will you do today?” Ominis asked.

“Oh, I’m…not sure,” Maerys replied evasively.

If Ominis found the answer suspicious or unsatisfactory, he didn’t say, choosing to forgo further argument and concentrate on his food. They ate quickly and Ominis gave himself a final smooth over, grabbing his suitcase and holstering his wand whilst Maerys followed him to the door—a ritual they never deviated from whatever the current mood. They would always say goodbye, the unspoken truth that it could always be the last.

The kiss she gave Ominis was an apology for what she was intending to do; slow and passionate with a heavy admission of love. Ominis' hands wandered over her scantily-clad body, still dressed in only her silk nightdress and a delicate dressing gown. She hadn't intended to distract him so thoroughly, but the low growl in his throat and twitch in his trousers sent her own blood rushing, an ache between her legs so intense she couldn't control the whimper that left her mouth.

Ominis' tongue swept into her mouth, hungry and demanding as his hands kneaded the soft flesh of her breasts through the flimsy fabric. Her nipples responded, peaking under his touch as she moaned longingly into his mouth. Maerys always found Ominis irresistible no matter her mood, and the way his composure broke down around her was a power she never knew she craved.

Her head spun, revelling in the way his erection pressed painfully into her hip, probably soaking his carefully pressed work trousers with arousal that she had brought forth.

"Shouldn't you be getting to work?" Maerys said teasingly.

"You know full well I can't leave until I've had you now," Ominis replied, a hand slipping underneath her nightdress.

His delicate fingers pushed aside the lacy undergarments and found the pool of slick between her legs and she moaned, stumbling backwards against the hallway wall. Ominis followed, not allowing their contact to break as he resumed the rhythmic grinding of his stiff cock against her. His lips traced her neck as his fingers parted her folds and he dragged his digits lazily across her swollen nub, spreading her arousal.

Maerys met his hand with a movement of her hips, sighing with every brush of his fingers against her most sensitive area. She had no intention of dragging out the encounter, as she watched Ominis' flushed face with lust-filled eyes, her core ached for him. Her hands flew to his thoroughly-dirtied trousers, biting her tongue at the sight of the pooling precum on the straining fabric. She made quick work of his buttons, releasing his thick cock and a moan from his mouth, hot breath against the skin of her neck.

She'd barely wrapped her hand around him before Ominis had spun her around, his length pressing against her behind as he gathered the silk above her hips. He continued to kiss her neck, muttering sweet nothings as he lined himself up with her soaking entrance before pushing the tip inside her slowly, allowing her time to adjust to his size. They moaned together as he slid deeper into her soaking wet hole, her walls clenching eagerly in anticipation of the glorious climax she soon knew she'd be experiencing.

"Fuck , Ominis," Maerys sighed, always surprised at how he managed to make her feel so full .

"You've made me late for work, you know," Ominis said as his cock retreated.

He slid back inside her, pressing harder and deeper each time. Maerys arched her back into the thrusts, his cock hitting her satisfyingly deep and sending shockwaves through her primed and panting body.

"You feel so good," she barely managed to whimper through his forceful thrusts.

"And you feel absolutely incredible", brushing her dark, waist-length hair over her shoulder and continuing his assault on her tender neck.

She knew he'd leave marks, another reminder that she belonged to him alone. She would show them proudly, brushing them with her fingers fondly as she brushed her tangled hair later that day.

Ominis' rhythm ramped up, the empty hallways filling with the sounds of their slickened skin slapping, Maerys' arousal thoroughly coating their most intimate areas as Ominis became more and more dishevelled. Her soft and blood-swollen walls enveloped his cock so completely, every roll of his hips bringing them both closer to the edge.

"I do enjoy it when you wear this," Ominis whispered in her ear, his hands wandering over her waist. "I can feel every…curve…of your delicious little body."

Maerys gasped and pushed backwards against his cock as Ominis resumed his teasing of her nipples, practically drooling against her neck. She could feel her orgasm brewing, her breath growing ragged and muscles twitching in anticipation. Ominis couldn't fail to notice the same.

"Come on, my love. Show me how good I feel."

"Ominis…," Maerys sighed his name and fingers clawed uselessly at the wallpaper as she reached her climax.

Her core clenched before her orgasm exploded, sending waves through her body and gripping Ominis' cock. Soft moans brushed her ear as Ominis reached his own blissful release, filling her with his cum with every squeeze around his shaft. Maerys was against the wall, Ominis' weight pressing her hard as he grinded his hips into her, milking every last drop of his seed inside her.

When Ominis' was empty and Maerys a limp and bedraggled mess, he pulled her back and held her tightly, planting kisses on every exposed inch of skin he could find.

"I love you," he sighed.

"I love you, too," Maerys sighed, reaching back to gently stroke his jaw.

"Now, I really must change and get to work, lest I find myself out of a job for my tardiness."

Ominis had left in a hurry, planting a swift kiss on her lips on his way out of the door, leaving Maerys alone to ready herself for the day. The first order of business was to wash the sex from her skin, letting the water and gentle soaps lift the residue from her thighs. She squirmed slightly as her fingers brushed over her intimate area, slightly sore and puffy. She dressed smartly, taking care with her appearance more than she might usually.

Meeting Ominis’ family should have been a joyous affair, but the Gaunts had made such a thing a fairytale. Maerys would instead be confronting them at a great disadvantage—not only did they have no idea she even existed, she’d be asking them to accept her and break off Ominis’ engagement.

There was no use dwelling on the what-ifs of the encounter; as Maerys left the house to apparate to her destination, she ran over the words she wanted to say. A crack of apparition later, and she landed in a green expanse far away from the city she’d just left.

The Gaunt manor was as imposing as she'd imagined—though the house was large and likely once an ostentatious show of pureblood wealth, it was now run down and a shadow of its former glory. As with any magical dwelling, particularly for a powerful family, the building and grounds were enveloped by wards—this wouldn't simply be a case of walking up to the front door and knocking. Only those who were invited would be allowed to enter the wards, and knowing the Gaunts, Maerys wouldn't have been surprised if an intruder found themselves in searing pain. The place practically rippled with dark magic.

Maerys likely could have taken them down, one by one. She was a powerful witch with a background in law enforcement; this was part and parcel of her job. However, she preferred to remain on good (or at least civil) terms with Ominis' father by the time she left. Tentatively taking out her wand, she pointed it at the boundary and shot red sparks at the wards. They fizzled and disappeared as they hit the shimmering dome, and Maerys waited.

She'd expected a servant of some sort, perhaps a house elf to greet her, instead a tall, dark figure appeared in the doorway. Perhaps it was a trick of perspective and the door was smaller than it appeared, but the man seemed to tower over everything he walked past. His dark hair was tucked behind his ears and as he approached, Maerys noted the hostile glare on his otherwise handsome face.

"Who are you?" the man snarled.

"A friend of Ominis'. I need to talk to Mr Gaunt," Maerys replied, summoning all of her confidence and willing her voice to be steady.

The man sneered, his dark eyes piercing through Maerys like daggers.

"We don't like friends of Ominis here. Blood traitor."

"Who…?"

"Marvolo. Marvolo Gaunt. And you're trespassing."

Maerys stared up at Ominis' brother in disbelief. He was the polar opposite of Ominis, and Maerys wondered if this was a quirk of their notorious inbreeding or his mother had simply been unfaithful when producing one of the brothers. His skin was tanned, eyes and hair darker, much taller and muscular than his elegant and fair brother. He had none of Ominis' refined air, nor his politeness, apparently.

"Please, I only need a few minutes and then I'll leave. I think Mr Gaunt would appreciate what I have to say."

Marvolo regarded her with dead eyes, devoid of warmth, before drawing his wand and waving an arch over the wards to create a path to admit her. Maerys stepped through the opening as Marvolo strode off without another word. She assumed she was meant to follow him, but his strides were so long she found herself practically running to keep up. His cruel smirk as he looked back at her indicated this had likely been his intention; the humiliation already beginning.

Maerys' heart thumped in her chest as she skipped across the threshold into the manor, eyes darting around at the dilapidated hallway and once-grand staircase now reduced to scuffed wood and tattered carpet. She'd always assumed Ominis exaggerated about his family, down to the financial situation that was a great source of shame for him. To Maerys' dismay, it appeared he'd been truthful, including Marvolo's cruel sneer and intimidating air.

The house hummed with dark magic, and her gut twisted as she considered all that Ominis had told her. His family were dangerous , unhinged , utterly without conscience . If he had been telling her the truth, Maerys had made a huge lapse in judgement in coming to their manor alone.

Marvolo led her down a dim corridor to an inconspicuous door and leaned against the wall opposite, watching and waiting. Maerys' eyes darted from him to the door, thankful to finally be leaving his presence. She knocked on the wood and waited until a voice called from inside and the door flew open and she was pulled inside by a stream of magic. The slam from behind her and click of a lock indicated that she was now alone with a different man, standing in the middle of the room with his wand aloft.

"Who are you? State your business," he demanded.

Maerys barely had a chance to take in her surroundings before scrambling for words to answer him. This must have been Tiberius Gaunt, Ominis' father. Much older than she'd expected and more reminiscent of Ominis than his brother, his pale skin reflected in the dim light from the oil lamps dotted around the room. He had only a hint of Ominis' beauty; his eyes were cold, narrowed and full of suspicion.

"I'm sorry to intrude, Mr Gaunt. I'm a friend of Ominis' and wished to speak with you about something."

His glare softened at the mention of his son and he lowered his wand, retreating to an armchair amongst the towers of dusty books that lined the walls of the small library. Maerys followed, perching awkwardly on the chair opposite him as he watched with great interest.

"A friend, you say? What could a friend have to say to me, hm? A day after his betrothal, no less. Don't take me for a fool , girl."

Maerys swallowed thickly, a chill running down her spine at the accusation. He was right, of course—her attempt at subtlety was anything but.

"You're correct. Myself and Ominis have been…romantically involved for some time."

"I see. And you wish to cast yourself into the ring, as it were? What of your heritage, girl?"

"My mother was a witch," Maerys replied, a hint of defensiveness in her voice.

"Just your mother?" he pressed, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

Maerys nodded—she had never been made to feel less than adequate because of her blood status, but the way Tiberius Gaunt looked at her that moment was enough to erase every last drop of her self-assuredness. She knew his thoughts on the matter, and yet she had presented herself before him with a demand; or perhaps it was a plea.

"I love Ominis very much, as he loves me. All I ask is that you give me a chance to prove myself worthy of your family name."

"My son is already a disappointment, I'll not have another besmirch my family's legacy. He will marry a pureblood befitting his own status."

His eyes flashed menacingly as he leaned forward and stood up off from the old armchair.

"Leave, and I suggest you don't return. Break off your involvement with my son and I'll say no more. Refuse, and I'll do more than scold you," the old man snarled.

The conversation was at an end, and Maerys was more than eager to leave. As she left silently through the library door, she wondered if he might see reason given time to consider the matter. Surely , his son's happiness counted for something ?

The thought was interrupted by the tall, dark shadow that cast itself across her as she stepped into the hallway. Marvolo had clearly been listening to the exchange, perched still in the spot she had left him against the tatty wall.

"I can show myself out," Maerys said, a note of irritation in her voice.

"I don't think you'll be going anywhere just yet, sweet thing."

"What…?"

Maerys gasped, cutting her inquiry short as Marvolo's hand found itself to her neck, his long fingers encircling her throat and squeezing the breath right out of her windpipe. She struggled, clawing at the hand before using the last of her conscious thought to reach for her wand.

"Incarcerous ."

The spell uttered wasn't her own. Her wrists were bound by ropes, summoned from her attacker's wand, twining and squeezing her skin until it burned. His malevolent stare was the last thing she saw before the scene faded to black, her last thought of her lover and soulmate, wondering if she would ever see him again.

Her wand was gone. The thin stick of laurel wood no longer pressed against her hip as she awoke on what appeared to be a cold stone floor. Maerys winced as she moved and found herself still bound, the summoned ropes cutting painfully into her wrists. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the room and her head swam uncomfortably from the sudden lack of oxygen, she felt her eyes sting with tears. Thank Merlin, I'm still alive , she thought.

Looking around to get her bearings, she noted the vaulted ceiling and lack of windows, the only light from a conjured flame that sat in a jar too far away to be of any use. She had been bound to a pillar to suppress any notion of escape.

"You're awake, finally. I was beginning to grow bored."

Maerys jumped, pulling an amused cackle from Marvolo's throat as he stepped out of the shadows.

"What are you doing? You know I'm a law enforcement officer, I can have you arrested and sent to Azkaban for this," she spat with false confidence.

Marvolo's face darkened, the smirk falling from his lips as he strode closer to her. Her neck craned painfully to watch his looming figure approach, his wand gripped firmly by his side.

"Are you now? That really doesn't give me an incentive to let you go now, does it?"

Maerys shuddered as the blood rushed from her head and stomach lurched. She'd been trained for this, but at no point had there been an eventuality where she was completely and utterly alone . She should have a partner, or at least someone who knew where she was. She had neither. She needed her wand.

"Why are you doing this?" Maerys asked, almost a whisper, watching Marvolo carefully.

She needed to draw him closer, to see if he held her wand. How she would get it back, she had no idea. One step at a time .

Marvolo took the bait and inched closer, dropping to his knees to survey the defeated look on her face that he'd brought forth with great satisfaction. Her eyes flitted across his broad shoulders and down to his waist, seeing no hint of her wand on his person.

"You muddy our house and then presume to do the same to our family's bloodline," Marvolo growled. "I may despise my brother's weakness but I won't stand for him bringing a mudblood into the fold."

"Ominis is a grown man, he can decide himself who he marries."

Marvolo reached out a long arm and cupped Maerys' cheek as she remained frozen, eyes locked on his with fierce defiance.

"No, my little brother doesn't know what's good for him. No matter how delicious you are, your blood will always be tainted by Muggle filth."

His thumb ran over her bottom lip as he smirked down at her—he was clearly enjoying toying with her. Maerys’ breath quickened as he slipped his digit into her mouth and pressed onto her tongue, pulling a low growl from his throat as she refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Her eyes remained impassive, but the tremble in her shoulders gave away her discomfort.

Marvolo’s smirk turned into a devilish grin as he returned to his feet, the colour draining from Maerys’ face as she noticed his obvious arousal whilst he adjusted his trousers. He was enjoying her humiliation, and she knew from Ominis’ description of the sadistic man standing before her that he wouldn’t be sated by simply holding her hostage.

"I think it's time we taught you a lesson in respect. Crucio ."

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Ominis had been doing little but waiting after returning home from work, wondering where Maerys had disappeared to. He initially thought she'd decided to head into Diagon Alley, perhaps meet some friends; but as the hours dragged on the dread settled over him as his mind raced through worst-case scenarios.

Her absence was uncharacteristic. Maerys often made sure to be home when he was, as Ominis did the same—they had so little time together that they made the most of every minute their schedules aligned. The absence of a note was even more concerning, and Ominis had searched every inch of their spare living space for some indication of where she'd gone.

He stood in the living room, twirling his wand in his fingers, deep in thought. He was running out of ideas and he wasn’t one to simply wait, resting on his laurels with dread and uncertainty clouding his mind. He’d contacted her colleagues at the Ministry and any friends he could get hold of, even her numerous cousins had no idea where she was, and showed little concern when Ominis voiced his own.

The final, dreadful thought that crossed his mind was surely too far-fetched to consider. Ominis ran through the previous night, every detail he could remember and word exchanged and landed on the conclusion that where Maerys had found herself was the last place on Earth Ominis would want her.

He could be wrong, and he sincerely hoped he was—though the impromptu visit would raise more questions than he had answers for, he would make some excuse or other; inquiries into his betrothed, perhaps. Ominis holstered his wand, running a hand through his hair with a sigh before striding to the fireplace and finding the pot of floo powder on the mantle. He stepped onto the hearth and threw in the powder, speaking his destination as the green flames enveloped his person, sucking him into the network with an uncomfortable squeezing pull.

He landed with a jolt into silence, not even the soft crackle of a candle filled the room once the floo flames had died away. Ominis pushed his shirt sleeves up and fingered his wand handle and unsheathed it as he made his way through the living room. He knew the manor and its layout, but his wand afforded him an edge in times such as these, as well as being ready for any confrontation should it arise.

“Homenum Revelio ,” he whispered, his wand vibrating at the presence of someone else in the house and the tip drifting downward.

Ominis was on the ground floor, and there was only one thing that lay below him—the cellar. His heart beat rapidly and pace quickened as he made his way through the hallways to the tiny door that led down into the dank underground cavern. To call it a room would be a stretch—once it had been used to store food and wine, when the family had such things in abundance. Now it was used only as a place for Marvolo to indulge his particularly disgraceful proclivities.

There was no way to be subtle about his entrance; the creaky stairs would reveal his presence immediately. The only thing Ominis had was the element of surprise. He pushed the door open and aimed his wand into the room, casting a preemptive shield charm in anticipation of an attack, but was instead greeted with the heart-wrenching sound of muffled sobs.

Ominis ran quicker than he’d ever done before, bounding down the stairs with little regard for who else might hear him, his wand and the gentle gasps guiding his way to a crumpled body on the floor. He dropped to his knees and his free hand drifted shakily over the figure in front of him; a cotton shirt, soft hair, chilled skin and a sliver of fabric, cutting into plush lips.

Ominis threw down his wand and got to work relieving Maerys of her gag, her coughs and unstifled cries filling the cold, damp cellar. Bile rose in his throat at the thought of her being thrown down here for hours whilst he had pointlessly made inquiries into her whereabouts. The tremor in his hand wasn’t from trepidation, it was from pure, unadulterated hate .

“Ominis, my hands,” she gasped.

He found the ropes, grimacing at the slick skin underneath them, the bindings cutting deep enough to draw blood. Once she was freed, she threw herself into Ominis’ arms, clinging to him for dear life as his rage built to almost unmanageable levels.

“What happened, my love? Was this Marvolo’s doing?”

There would be time to ask the question of how she found herself to be in this hellhole, but for now, he needed to know what had occurred. The amount of wrath he brought down on his dear brother would depend on her answer. Maerys continued to grip him tightly, still crouched on the floor as his hands gently stroked her hair and she steadied her breath enough to reply.

“Yes. I shouldn’t have come, I thought…”

“Please, tell me what he did,” Ominis interrupted, picking his wand from the floor and holstering it once again.

She inhaled sharply before answering as Ominis’ stomach clenched painfully.

“He used an unforgivable curse on me. I…he might have used another, I’m not sure. I don’t remember…”

The fact that Maerys was still alive meant that Marvolo had tortured her, her shaking hands testament to the fact—one of the curse’s aftereffects. Ominis’ head swam as he absorbed the last of her answer, imagining all the possibilities of what his brother could have done with her under the influence of the Imperius curse.

Ominis’ ears could scarcely register her continued talking as a blind rage overcame him, the only thought in his mind now one of seeking revenge. He would pay for what he had done if it was the last thing Ominis did, and he fully expected it would be. Ominis’ death would be a small price to pay if he could take Marvolo down with him.

“Ominis?”

Her voice brought him back to the present, and he stood up to help her shakily to her feet. Ominis needed to get Maerys to safety before he could finish his business here.

“Come, there’s a tunnel here that leads to just outside the wards. Can you stand to apparate with me?”

“Yes, I’ll be okay,” she said weakly.

The walk was as quick as they could make it, through the cramped underground path that led to nowhere. It had been used for many things in the past; smuggling, an escape route, a place to hide dark artifacts that his family didn't want to contaminate the manor house. The tunnel had been blocked years ago and never reopened, but Ominis had used it as a hiding place for years whilst he lived here. Marvolo had no idea it existed, and it had become Ominis’ sanctuary from his brother’s provocations.

“Hold on tight, I’ll get you home,” Ominis said gently.

Maerys gripped his bicep and he turned, disapparating and reappearing in the alleyway behind their house. Maerys stumbled and groaned and Ominis held her steady, leading her inside and straight to the sofa where she collapsed.

“I need to take care of this,” Ominis said.

“Please, Ominis, don’t.”

“Darling, if he knows about you he will not let your escape go unpunished.”

Before she could object any further, Ominis had planted a kiss on her forehead and strode out of the door to return to his family home, to exact his revenge.

Ominis crept through the quiet house, constantly on guard. Though his instinct was to shield himself, he knew that it would do little to protect him if he met Marvolo. He cast the charm to reveal human presence once again, ignoring the fainter magical signature in the south wing which was likely his father cooped up in the library. The other was outdoors in the grounds.

Following his wand’s lead, Ominis headed into the cool night air, following the brickwork of the manor house towards the gardens. He had no idea what they now consisted of, only that the once lovingly-planted rows of English roses that lined the gravel path were now overgrown, the thorns prone to catching on clothing. The crunching underfoot wasn’t conducive to a stealthy approach, but Ominis was hoping that Marvolo was too busy indulging in his drug of choice to notice his approach.

The fact that he’d simply left after performing such atrocities on his Maerys only incensed Ominis further; his nails dug painfully into his palms and jaw clenched in intense and righteous anger. He’d often heard people describe this unbridled fury as ‘seeing red’—Ominis found that this state felt like an out of body experience, his actions seemingly made by someone other than himself. He couldn’t have stopped himself if he’d wanted to, and he had absolutely no desire to do so.

Ominis was correct in his assumption and found Marvolo slumped on a bench, half-sedated and doused in the sickly-sweet scent of opium.

“Ah, there he is. Come to reclaim your whore?” Marvolo slurred, making no attempt at moving.

For reasons he couldn’t quite fathom, Ominis smiled in response, knowing precisely what his next move would be. Perhaps his brother’s words had given Ominis the justification for the flick of his wrist that caused a strangled moan from the bench. There was now no stopping him, fuelled by pure hatred, the spells Ominis fired off were unrelenting.

Marvolo scrambled to avoid the attacks and Ominis was sure he was bleeding heavily judging by the limping and groaning.

“Crucio!”

Ominis spun to the right, avoiding the curse and righting himself, firing off a counterattack.

“Confringo!”

The fire that erupted from his wand warmed his skin, blazing through the air and colliding with something definitely not its intended target. Ominis thought that the garden could have been set ablaze, but the thought didn’t bother him as he continued his evasive footwork.

“Cru-”

“Diffindo!”

Ominis’ severing charm hit its target and cut off Marvolo’s curse before he could finish the incantation. The air was quiet, far too quiet, until Ominis heard a strangled cry and horrific bubbling sound. Something wet hit his face and he flinched, the crunching of gravel marking the moment his brother fell to the floor and gasped his last breath.

Ominis inhaled sharply, the beads of liquid rolling down his face and dripping into his parted lips, revealing the unmistakable metallic tang of blood . The pure Gaunt blood. He wondered if any of that mattered—they all bled the same. His brother’s supposedly superior blood still ran down his face and pooled at his feet, his lifeless body lay crumpled on the ground amongst the scented roses. He could have been a Muggle—in death, the power and influence that came with the Gaunt name meant nothing.

He should have been horrified, instead Ominis only felt relief, and a disturbing amount of satisfaction as the raw power coursed through his veins. The immediate threat had passed, but as his mind cleared, his thoughts turned to the other Gaunt still present on the estate. What would he do when he learned of Marvolo’s death? Ominis knew that the only way to keep Maerys safe was to ensure that his father knew exactly what he had done.

First, he had to dispose of the body. The body . Such a detached way to describe one's flesh and blood. Yet, Ominis found it hard to mourn the loss as he cleared the earth next to the manor wall with a flick of his wand. Only when he touched the still-warm arm of his brother did his gut twist and nausea threatened to overwhelm him until he forced himself to breath deep, shaky breaths.

By the time Marvolo was buried, Ominis was caked in dirt and blood, sweating and trembling as he gripped his wand to cast a fire spell, scorching the wall where his brother's makeshift grave lay. He walked in a silent haze to the house, seeking out the man who had just lost the very last of his legacy in a matter of minutes.

Of course Ominis found his father cooped up in his library, none the wiser as to what had occurred. The shocked silence that met Ominis' arrival told him how he must have appeared—the man rarely had nothing to say.

"What…have you done?" Tiberius finally uttered after several moments.

"Did you know?"

"Know what?"

"Maerys. Did you know what Marvolo did, here, in this house?" Ominis asked, his voice quiet and deadly.

"What are you talking about, boy? What have you done? "

Ominis knew then that his father had no inkling of what had happened right under his nose. Too distracted by his own agenda, he'd failed to control his son's impulses as he'd done time and time again. Marvolo's reckless disregard for subtlety and secrecy was always going to be his downfall; only the component of being by Ominis' hand was unexpected.

"Marvolo took her, tortured her, right below your feet," Ominis said coldly, pointing his finger to the floor. "So I buried him. Six feet deep."

"You…you killed your own brother?"

The first time he'd heard fear in his father's voice sent a chill down Ominis' spine, the cloud of rage lifting slightly. What had he done?

"A reminder, father…to not interfere," Ominis whispered with the last of his ability to speak.

He left before his composure broke down, his hands shaking violently as the door slammed behind him and he stumbled back to the fireplace to carry him home. He still tasted the blood on his lips, the sweet smell of the opium lingering in his nostrils. His head pounded and pulse raced, barely noticing that he'd been pulled into the floo flames until he landed in his house to the sound of Maerys' frantic voice.

Ominis fell to the floor, expelling the last of what was left in his stomach onto the floorboards as his shaky arms struggled to keep him from collapsing into it.

"Ominis? Ominis, what happened? Please , answer me," Maerys sobbed, her hands on his back, his cheek, his hair.

He heard her gasp as she realised that the blood wasn't his own.

Maerys had never seen Ominis quite so terrified; his body trembled as he struggled to breathe, unable to tell her what had happened. She had a good idea, especially when she realised that the blood that splattered his face and drenched his shirt wasn't his. It had started to dry, clumping in his hair which fell dishevelled in front of his glazed eyes. Oh Gods, what had he done?

Maerys held him for what seems like hours until he finally formed a sentence, and whilst she'd expected it, the words seemed completely alien coming from Ominis.

"I killed him. My brother is dead and…buried."

"Come with me, let's have a shower and get the…dirt off of you," Maerys said gently.

The water ran brown and red for minutes, Ominis turning the temperature high to almost scalding levels as they huddled under the stream. Ominis was slowly coming out of the shock, the shaking leaving his extremities, whether because of the comforting shower or Maerys' tight embrace she didn't know or care. Once they were scrubbed clean, she led him to their bed and guided him to sit. He put up no fight, nor seemed to register what was happening.

"Ominis, I'm so sorry…I shouldn't have…"

"Don't apologise. I can't bear to think of what he did to you," Ominis whispered.

Maerys sat beside him, watching his pensive expression as droplets of water from his hair ran down his cheeks and dripped onto his bare shoulders. His ivory skin prickled with goosebumps from the chill but he made no attempt to move.

"Your father will never bother us again," Maerys said, fingers pushing the wayward blond strands from his turbulent eyes.

"Because of what I've done. I am the monster I've always been accused of being," he said with a mirthless laugh.

"No, because you've shown him you'll do anything to protect me. I love you so much, Ominis."

"How can you possibly love me after seeing what I'm capable of?"

"How can I not love you? You saved me, Ominis."

Maerys sat behind him, straddling her legs either side of his waist and wrapping her arms around his chest. She kissed the trail of beauty marks on his shoulder that led to his cheek, each press of her lips in rhythm with his heavy breath. His heart beat rapidly against her hands, his skin warming under her touch—both were a reminder that they were alive ; something that Maerys could no longer take for granted.

"I love you, Ominis Gaunt," she whispered into his ear.

"I love you, though I don't deserve yours," Ominis sighed.

Her fingers traced the contours of his chest, following the trail of soft blond hair down to his taut stomach as her lips continued to roam his neck.

"I decide who deserves my love, and I choose you," Maerys whispered against his skin.

Ominis turned and tilted his head towards her, silently asking for more. Maerys obliged by sliding around the bed sheets to face him, lowering herself into his lap and capturing his lips in a fierce kiss. She couldn't have him regret what had happened or doubt her feelings for him—Ominis was her saviour, and she loved him more than she ever thought possible. She told him so with how she clung to his naked form, pressing herself so tightly into him that they might have been one body.

Ominis responded slowly, unsure of whether he deserved such devotion. Their mouths brushed with heavy breaths and Maerys ran her tongue tentatively along his lip. She was met with Ominis' own, their heads instinctively tilting to deepen the kiss as their tongues brushed and lips captured the others'. All residue had been washed from their skins, leaving only Ominis' comforting scent and the lavender soap they'd used—he smelled as he always did, like home .

"Tell me you love me again," Ominis asked gently, placing tender kisses along Maerys' cheek.

"I love you, Ominis. I always will."

Ominis hummed approvingly as his mouth moved to her neck and hands spurred into action, delicate fingers sliding over her bare thighs to gently wrap around her waist. Maerys continued to mutter sweet nothings as he kissed her, his warm skin under her ear sending tingles down her spine and peaking her nipples as they brushed against his chest.

She ached for him—every stroke of his hand and flick of his tongue quickening her pulse and drew soft moans from her mouth. Ominis responded with sounds of adoration, muttering her name as his arousal became apparent underneath her. His growing erection pressed against her soaking wet heat as her hips rocked teasingly to meet him. Ominis' length pressed into Maerys' slick folds and brushed her sensitive nub, and she moaned and gripped his hair as the friction teased the growing tension in her core.

"Oh, fuck ," she gasped, sliding along his length with increasing fervour.

Ominis held her tightly, pulling her down each time she reached his tip, squeezing precum from his swollen head as his lap became increasingly messy, coated in their arousal. Their lips met again, gasps exchanged into each other's mouths as they teased each other senseless, waiting for one of them to give in. It was Maerys who caved first, too eager to show Ominis the full extent of her love and gratitude.

She slid off of his lap with a regretful sigh, her clit swollen and still throbbing for stimulation, but she would gladly forgo her own pleasure to focus on Ominis first. His own groan turned into a whisper of her name and he fell back on the bed as Maerys took his slippery length in her hand. She shuffled down the bed, lining herself up with his tantalisingly swollen head, running her tongue over the weeping tip and moaning as his salty precum covered her tongue.

He tasted delicious , and each swipe of her tongue she tasted herself, only further spurring her on and dizzying her head with arousal. Maerys adored watching Ominis as she bobbed up and down on his cock; the way his mouth gaped as sinful moans filled the air and his pale cheeks flushed a deep pink as she built his orgasm. Her lips wrapped around his girth, taking him further into her mouth with each movement of her head until she found a comfortable rhythm.

Their combined moans and the wet slurping of her mouth filled the room as she worked him into state, Ominis practically writhing underneath her as his cock hit the back of her throat and she concentrated to control her gag reflex. Maerys could have made him finish then, but the moment demanded a greater intimacy, which Ominis seemed to agree with as his hands gently tugged at her hair or lift her off.

"Stop, please. You feel too good," he sighed.

Maerys gave the base of his shaft a final squeeze, her mouth retreating with every drop of his precum she could gather on her tongue. Ominis shuddered, wrapping his own hand over hers, holding her firm grip still as he controlled the urge to finish.

"I want to fill you, but…but not yet."

Maerys' eyes lingered on his cock, his hand finally leaving hers and setting her free to clamber back onto his thighs, Ominis' arms greeting her with a tight embrace as they exchanged a deep, slow kiss. As she pulled back to look at him, her heart skipped a beat when she met his pale blue irises.

Merlin, he was beautiful . She wasn't used to seeing him so vulnerable, so submissive to her. It meant the world to Maerys that Ominis trusted her to hand over control in that moment and let her show him how much he meant to her.

"I'm going to go slowly," she whispered.

Her hand reached down between them, lining his tip up with her soaking entrance and pressing her weight into his lap. She gasped as he stretched her, her walls twitching in anticipation of the fullness his girth would provide. Ominis held her tightly, his face buried in her damp hair that muffled his moans. She stilled once his length was inside her, enjoying the sensation of his stiff erection filling her so satisfyingly as she nibbled on his lower lip.

Ominis' hands roamed her back, skimming her waist and gripping her soft behind, his fingers kneading her flesh as his cock twitched needily inside her.

"You're so warm . You really do feel incredible, my love," Ominis whispered.

Maerys whimpered as his sultry voice filled her ears, the ache between her legs now painful as she longed to feel more of him. With another gentle bite of his lip, she shifted herself slowly forward and back again, giving a small shift of her hips at the bottom of the movement which had Ominis' fingers pressing bruisingly into her cheeks and a growl brewing in his throat.

She did the same again, and again, keeping her eyes on him for every reaction and just to drink in his pleasure. His face was relaxed, flushed and expression utterly blissful as she rode him slowly, humming softly with every breath she took. She brushed her thumb over his moist lips, and he placed a gentle kiss on the digit with a tiny smile which made her heart leap and abdomen flutter. She'd made him smile, even now.

"You have no idea how beautiful you are, Ominis," Maerys said, gazing down at him in complete adoration.

Ominis rolled his hips gently to meet her, a high-pitched mewl escaping her mouth as his cock hit deep inside her.

"All that matters is you think so…as I believe you're…perfect, in every way," Ominis replied, moans punctuating his loving words.

The pace Maerys had set had quickened with every thrust Ominis met her with, their kisses and touches growing more needy by the second. Her fingers laced through his hair and one hand braced herself against the bed as she continued to grind on his cock, eyes rolling back into her head as he hit her just right at the bottom.

Maerys knew they wouldn't last much longer, her own orgasm building so quickly with the vigorous thrusts she thought the blood rushing from her head might cause her to faint. She was utterly exhausted, but she couldn't stop now, not when it felt so damn good .

"I'm so close," she sighed, gripping the bed sheet above his head for purchase.

"So am I… f-fuck . Come for me, darling."

"Oh, Ominis…"

Maerys moaned her love's name as she met her sweet release, the waves of pleasure burning her skin as all she heard was the blood pounding in her ears and muffled groans underneath her. She clenched around Ominis' cock, pushing him over the edge with her as he gripped her tightly, hips rolling upwards into her and letting his cum coat her walls with every pulse. They sighed together, exchanging breathy kisses as they rode out their orgasms until Maerys collapsed on top of Ominis, every last drop of energy expended.

They stayed together until their lips were sore and neither could keep their eyes open, muttering their admissions of love and promises as the sun rose and they fell into a deep sleep. Maerys knew that Ominis would do anything to protect her, as she'd known from the moment he had first told her he loved her. Now she knew that particular truth would haunt him, and that she would spend every day keeping him safe from his demons, and she would do it gladly.

#ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x oc #ominis gaunt fanfiction #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt smut

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nerdthatsiriuslylovesteaxx · 1 month

Text

Can I tell you a secret?

"Hazel, wanna go on a walk?" I'm trying to hide my fear but I think she can see right through me, she answers with an unsure grin.

"You're not planning to kill me are you?" she laughs, "Yeah sure I'll come." This will go well, this has to go well, otherwise I'd have to leave another camp. As we start walking there's a silent tension, both of us too scared to break it. "Have you heard anything about that friend you told me was missing?" She finally whispers, I hadn't told her about Camp Half-Blood but I did tell her Percy was gone, not that she knew who he was anyway. I've been worried sick, no matter how much I wanted to hate him I still loved him, even if I knew he would never love me back I still love him and I hated that.

"Nothing, no one's seen him; all I know is that he's still alive." I glace down trying to hide any emotion in my face, I don't know where he is and I will never admit out loud how much that scares me. After a few minutes of silence, once again just waiting for one of us to snap and finally speak, she knows I'm hiding something I take a deep breath. "Can... I tell you a secret...?" All I can hope is that she won't hate me for it, I don't even know why I'm telling her this, I regret every moment of this, why the fuck had I thought this would be a good idea? I really wish I was high right now,

"What's up?" She's interested but trying to not show it, trying to seem invested but not keen, let's see how much that would change.

"Just- I- please- don't hate me for this...?"

"Did you kill someone or something?" I can't tell if she's being serious or not, the panicked expression on my face must have revealed so because she quicker changed her answer. "Hey, sorry, yeah I promise I won't hate you for it, you can tell me anything." I take a sharp breath in,

"I- I'm- I'm...gay..." I look down, desperate to not see her reaction. The memories of Bianca flood my head, 'I knew it, but thank you for telling me, I'm proud of you.' Only a ghost yet I could still feel the warmth of her touch like four years ago. The fear that had filled my body only moment before evaporated, everything would be okay, at least for now. That was only a few weeks ago, if I could do it then I can do it now. I'll live. My thoughts were interrupted by my sister's arms strangling me in a hug, I couldn't remember the last time I had any human contact, it was comforting. Relief washed over my face, I did it, it went well, she doesn't hate me.

"I'm proud of you... wait is that Percy guy your boyfriend?" I blush violently and laugh.

"Sadly not, he has a girlfriend." We ended up talking for an hour or two, it was nice, I missed having a sister to talk to.

_______

Hiiii you get a ficlet because it's my birthday :)

I'm really sorry for not posting as much recently, I've been really busy with school and normally I write late at night which I can't do because I have clubs in the morning that I need to be awake at 6 for

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hiccanna-tidbits · 10 months

Text

@jackunzel-time

Jackunzel Month Week 3 - Lost in the Clouds

***

Late night, relapse Driving steady but I’m ready for the whiplash Coffee and cigarettes Almost empty, but we’re buzzing from the regret

Just you and me, dancing in a daydream Just you and me, lost in the clouds Just you and me, dancing in a daydream Don’t wanna wake up right now Don’t wanna wake up right now

Barefoot in tall grass We’ve reached the palace but I’m betting that it won’t last Bright lights and mirrorball We might be hurting but I’m ready for the freefall

Just you and me, dancing in a daydream Just you and me, lost in the clouds Just you and me, dancing in a daydream Don’t wanna wake up right now Don’t wanna wake up right now

And if I open my eyes If I open my eyes Will it unravel? And if I turn the page If I turn the page Will I lose my shadow?

And if I open my eyes If I open my eyes Will it all unravel? And if I turn the page If I turn the page Will I lose my shadow?

Just you and me, dancing in a daydream You and me, lost in the clouds You and me, dancing in a daydream Don’t wanna wake up right now

Just you and me, dancing in a daydream Just you and me, lost in the clouds Just you and me, dancing in a daydream Don’t wanna wake up right now Don’t wanna wake up right now

***

Rapunzel's been having the strangest dreams.

There's a boy, his face always unchanging. The one constant.

Sometimes, his hair is white. They're dancing through the sky, twirling round and round among the clouds. Dashing over snow-covered forests and sweeping in and out of ethereal castles floating in the air. Racing across airwaves until they're lost to the horizon.

Other times, his hair is brown. They're running barefoot through a meadow, trying to reach a distant castle. It feels like an eternity before they get there, crouching behind a hedge and watching strung lights in the palace gardens illumine the dusk. They whisper and giggle as they creep into an unguarded corridor and dash for the bustling ballroom.

She always wakes up before they get in a dance.

It's probably stupid, putting so much thought into some random visions cooked up by her unconscious mind. Fantasizing continuations for them in her waking life. But there's something about them that feels so...transcendent.

Rapunzel wishes she could talk to Jack about it. She feels like her bleach-haired coworker--one of the few people who accepts her eccentricities and random tangents without question--would understand.

The dreams are just awkward to bring up, considering he's the one starring in them. More awkward still that she's been having these dreams since long before she met him.

Rapunzel's been at the downtown 24-hour coffee joint for a little over a year now. Jack's a new hire--a college dropout trying to make ends meet.

Of course, Suddenly swooping in with the information that you've been dreaming about someone since you were a small child could do a lot to dampen an otherwise-promising friendship.

Rapunzel read somewhere that your brain never forgets a face. The unconscious can't make up a new person, so it's forced to use existing people you've met--no matter how briefly--as characters in its dreams.

The thing is that Rapunzel's pretty damn sure she never met Jackson Overland-Frost until three months ago.

Then, in the wee hours of one post-graveyard-shift morning, everything changes.

They're sitting in Jack's car, sipping mocha-hazelnut lattes and laughing about some diva of a customer who wanted a secret menu item they stopped carrying 7 years ago. Rapunzel takes a few drags of Jack's pack of cigarettes. It tastes disgusting, but she wants to impress him.

"You know, you don't have to do that if you don't like it," he says with a laugh. "I don't want to see you miserable."

And somehow, that warms her heart more than the approval she was seeking ever could.

When the sun finally peeks up, rosy gold outlines two entangled bodies. Crushed into the passenger's seat, pressing further and further into each other with frantic lips.

He was supposed to give her a ride home and be on his way. Now he's dropping her off 3 hours after her roommate was expecting her, stumbling through the apartment door disheveled and manic.

The panic and regret doesn't come until later.

The massive trouble they'd be in with their manager is only the tip of the iceberg. What would happen after a bad breakup, with them both trapped with each other at the same lifeline job? And the idea of just going out and trying to land another job? In this economy??? Absolutely unthinkable.

There's also the fact that Rapunzel has been in all of one serious relationship in her life. She fell hard for the resident Bad Boy With A Troubled Past in high school, and things fell apart precisely because they took things too fast. She and Eugene Fitzherbert had lip-locked not 48 hours after meeting for the first time, and things only picked up pace from there.

The incompatibilities emerged little by little. Things that didn't matter individually, but when blended together, painted something that just couldn't work anymore. Rapunzel blamed teenage hormones at the time, but it isn't as though she's doing much better now.

But the heart has a way of speaking louder than the mind, and Jack and Rapunzel continue their secret trysts in the staff parking lot and the grounds storage rooms. It isn't until 6 months after their first kiss that Jack says something that sets her mind at ease.

It's a cold December evening, cafe emptying out as people try to beat the coming snowstorm. They're stirring peppermint lattes for a couple of exhausted nursing students when Jack breaks the companionable silence.

"Do you believe in reincarnation, Zellie?"

She nearly knocks her latte over with her stirring stick.

"Do I what?"

"I don't know. Sometimes I just feel like..." He sighs. "We've always been on the same wavelength, but it's more than that. It's like I knew you in a past life or something. Is that stupid?"

"Not at all." She shakes her head firmly. "I get it."

He hesitates for a moment, as though debating whether or not to add something.

Apparently he decides to. "It's weird. Even before I met you, I was always having these dreams about a girl who reminded me a lot of you. And now that we're here together, it's like I found you again."

He chuckles, shaking his head. Rapunzel leans forward, rapt with interest.

"It was always the strangest things. I'd be dancing through the sky with her, or running through these floating castles, or--"

"--sneaking into a palace ball," Rapunzel finishes. "Because we were commoners, and we couldn't have gone otherwise."

"Oh shit!" Jack's eyes widen in delight. "You get them, too!"

Her entire being goes weak with relief. "Yes! Yes, for years! I thought I was crazy."

"And you lived in that cottage on the edge of the meadow." Jack screws his eyes shut, trying to remember. "With the crazy apothecary who never let you do anything. And I was--"

"--the shepherd's son!" Rapunzel beams. "We always danced in the field together, after your dad put the sheep to bed. But you wanted to crash high society, right? And I would have followed you anywhere."

He blushes a little at that, and Rapunzel can't help but giggle.

"But we never get to do that first dance, do we?" he says ruefully. "Not before I have to wake up at 5 am and go to work."

"Well...it's not too late, is it?" She holds out a hand. "May I have this dance, Sir Jackson Overland-Frost?"

"Here?"

"Why not?"

And so they twirl around the hardwood floors, surrounded by coffee machines and flavor syrup and rubber booths and the falling snow outside. Lost in their own private daydream, entwining their lives in this lifetime and the last and the next.

And maybe taking things fast wasn't so foolish when you've had a millennia to get to know them.

They could have gone all night were it not for the interruption 10 minutes later.

"Guys, please. Please. You're cute together and all, but my roommate and I have a final tomorrow and we need our caffeine fix. Please. We've been waiting on our lattes for 30 minutes now."

***

EYO YOU THOUGHT I WAS DONE WITH JACKUNZEL MONTH, DIDN'T YOU???

PSYCHE! I WILL get all my shit in by the end of the bonus week if it's the last thing I do!!!

Tfw you set out to do one prompt and accidentally ended up incorporating another XD So I guess this also kinda counts for "In Another Lifetime", whoops ^^;

I see your coffee shop AUs, and I raise you: Coffee shop AU, but they're BOTH baristas XD And they were coworkers!!! Just impulsively decided to do that because I thought it would be funny XD Truly nothing can make romance bloom between service workers like their shared disdain of The Customer™️

Actually very pleased with how both the moodboard and the minific came out :O The fic I did crank out in one day, so hopefully it won't look too sloppy later on XD

There's actually a whole series of cloud castle photo edits like the one in the bottom left moodboard pic, and I am in LOVE with them :O Picking just one for the moodboard was one of the hardest things I've ever done!!! They all have this kind of ethereal, liminal, eerie-yet-comforting quality to them that I am just enamored with. Like that would be the setting for exactly my brand of dark fantasy book :O If it doesn't exist out there somewhere then maybe I'll have to write it myself aaushdkshu

Poor Jack and Rapunzel. All they want is to hang out with high society and go to fancy balls, but they're doomed to continually be reincarnated as the poorest MFs alive 💔Although it would be funny as hell if Gothel kept getting reincarnated, too...and she steals Baby Rapunzel from a rich, powerful family every single fucking time for one reason or another. Hopefully one of these incarnations, Punz will find out about it ^^; Then she can be Jack's sugar mama ajhkuhdueyfg

As always, pic credits available upon request!

#jackunzel #jackunzelmonth #jackunzelmonth23 #moodboard #aesthetic #jack x rapunzel #rapunzel x jack #jack frost #rapunzel #jackxrapunzel #rapunzelxjack #rotbtd #rise of the brave tangled dragons #the big four #tangled #rotg #rise of the guardians #crossover

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biscuityskies · 8 months

Note

3 4 7 :)

tyvm for the ask <33 sorry it took a bit for me to get back to you (tysm for asking when i requested!!!!) but i am here now!!! (also. also while i've got you. i love your handle. it brings me joy every time i see it.)

3. do you share fic ideas or keep them to yourself?

I am apparently physically incapable of keeping things to myself and i have to immediately share ideas with other people - both to gauge if it's a viable idea to write (i.e. if there are any holes in my plan) and to see if it's something that people would actually read. (the kicker is... i don't really write plot?? so i have a couple of fics that are directed by plot that have yet to be written. they're still outlined, but i'm sort of saving them until i become a better writer lmao.) the frustrating second part of it is that if i share with too many people, then i'll be like "well the idea is already in the world, no need for me to write it" so if it's something that i REAAAAALLY want to write then i try to share as few details as possible while still maintaining the writing viability and the reading interest. (this doesn't always work.)

4. how do you choose which fics to write?

the fics that i write - especially of late - are generally prompted by either events hosted on tumblr.com in which case i try to do my 45-hour-a-week job and instead come up with ideas, or they're canon fix-it or additions. mostly it's stuff that haunts me, that sticks around in my head even after i, say, sort of attend a beach boys concert, or total my car (two events mostly unrelated).

7. post a snippet from a wip.

behold! a wippet! this is from chapter 2 of admiring from afar! (proof that i'm working on it i AM i PROMISE)

And Cody - sweet, kind Cody - knows him so well, can probably hear him overthinking, even over the waterfall. “How are you doing?” is his first question. Obi-Wan nods slowly, his brow furrowing with it. “I’m okay,” he replies. Cody just levels a look at him. “And how are you, really?” Damn it all to hell, they’ve been working together for too long. Cody knows all of his tells at this point, clearly. It may be a boon on the field of battle, but it’s not great for Obi-Wan presently. Cody’s lovely warm eyes search his, scanning for any hints that Obi-Wan may give. “I’m fine, my dear, honestly,” he says, a little dishonestly. “In the span of two days I got married and moved to a new home with my new husband, so I’m a little disoriented, but otherwise genuinely fine.” He takes up Cody’s hand. “And how are you?” Cody snorts and breaks eye contact, instead watching the water cascade down the precipice. “Same as you, sir, disoriented as all hell. I’m living a life no vod can have without deserting.” “Oh, Cody,” he muses. He brushes his thumbs along the back of Cody’s hand. “I am sorry, darling. I have no basis of knowledge for married couples, and I still genuinely believe that you and I are the best set for the job.” Cody’s brow furrows, and he looks back at him with an expression Obi-Wan can’t quite describe. “You do know about… Skywalker? And his senator?” “Allow me to rephrase: I have no basis of knowledge for normal married couples who aren’t trying - and spectacularly failing - to keep things secret.” Cody’s responding grin cuts through whatever farce he’s put on. There he is.

#dani answers!#dani ramblings #star wars #codywan #chaptered fics are my nemesis but i PROMISE!!! i PROMISE i'm WORKING ON IT #crying on the cliffside. there are so many fics in the lineup

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yamiheart · 1 year

Text

In CELEBRATION of Fanfiction

AI-generated content seems to be aiming at every possible creative pursuit as of late. Theft of art and art styles has become so insidious that digital artists are being forced to “mask” their posted pieces in ways that human eyes can’t detect yet completely scramble AI art programs. AI “animation,” while currently in a state of fairly poor quality, has proven to be feasible, and thus threatens the status of already precarious and underpaid animators throughout the world. Even photographers and their models are not immune to the pressure of the seemingly “miraculous” output of hundreds of thousands of lifelike, frontpage-ready images by AI programs.

Of course, the above mentioned are all visual mediums. The art of conversation and the written word has also been in the eye of AI for a long time. “Chatbots” have been around for almost as long as the concept of the computer itself, and The Turing Test is still a popular measure of a successful AI chatting program to this day. Back in my childhood days, “Cleverbot” was a novelty chatbot that was fun to chat with for a few minutes, but quickly became stale. As most of you reading likely already know, ChatGPT, on the other hand, has taken the world by storm. Schools are contending with students submitting AI-written reports (a very futuristic-sounding cheating method indeed), and many writing-based industries, already squeezed by the looming threats of a post-pandemic recession, are in turmoil over the potential of the complete replacement of humans by the machines.

I myself am in no way an AI expert. I do not know if the current state of AI is just a fad or a true industry disruptor. What I do know about, however, is fanfiction, and it seems that people want AI to write it, too.

I have been writing fanfiction since 2010, back when I was in middle school. I would write for hours and hours, exploring characters and ideas in ways the original source material (in this case, the original Yu-Gi-Oh! series) never intended. I would then post these works onto fanfiction(dot)net for mostly my irl friends and a few dozen strangers to read and enjoy. Over the years, I’ve cycled through a few different fandoms and made the switch to the currently-preferred fanfic-posting website, Archive of Our Own -otherwise known as “Ao3.” LiveJournal, FFnet, Wattpad, Ao3 -all of these websites and more have had hundreds of thousands if not millions of fanfictions posted and consumed. Fanfiction isn’t just a small circle of Star Trek fans sharing secret magazines through the mail -and in some ways, it never was just that.

Many “classics” today are, in some way or another, fanfiction by another name. Consider, for instance, the well-known fact that Disney’s 1994 hit movie, The Lion King, is just a retelling of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. When anonymous authors online turn all of their favorite characters into lions or wolves, it’s considered “furry cringe,” but when multi-billion dollar corporations do the same, it’s considered “art.”

House is a modern-day hospital-au version of Sherlock Holmes.

All fairytale “reimaginings,” such as the TV drama Once Upon a Time, are fanfictions in every sense of the word.

The current Batman cannon has so many reimaginings that it’s a gag in The Lego Batman Movie!

And these are just some American/European examples. The first “modern” novel, The Tale of Genji, has such a long history of fanart and fanfiction in Japan that there are literal traveling museum exhibitions to display small fractions of what has been (and continues to be) produced. However, in these exhibitions, the words “art” and “fiction” are never preceded by “fan.” These works, though just as “derivative” in content as anything you would find in internet fanspaces today, get to once again simply be “art.”

What is the difference? Where is the line between literature worthy of “respect” and literature considered worthy of constant derision?

I do not have all the answers, but please allow me to present some for your consideration.

As you may have noticed in my above examples, most of the original works being reimagined are, indeed, in the public domain. This means that no one owns the rights to these original works anymore, and thus they can be reproduced faithfully or completely changed without threat of legal trouble. This also means that all reproductions can make money for the reproducers without hassle. Batman is a somewhat curious case in this instance, since many of his reimaginings are in and of themselves canon while still carrying many of the hallmarks of fanfiction.

We will return to the curious case of Batman later, but needless to say legality and potential monetary gain make up an important component of the supposed high-literature/lowly-fanfiction divide. If you ever click on “older” fanfictions, particularly those from the 2000s and early-2010s, you will see constant repetition of phrases such as “I do not own X” or “please don’t sue me”. Later authors, including my own childhood self, repeated these out of an abundance of caution without really knowing why. Afterall, no one on websites like FFnet honestly thought the authors owned the “original” works in question to begin with. The problem, as I understand it now, arose from the infamous response of author Anne Rice to fanfiction of her book series, The Vampire Chronicles. In 2001, she made it very clear that her works and characters were protected by copyright, and that she was willing and ready to sue any supposed-copycats. Fanfics were purged by both individual authors and entire websites who were either afraid of the mere threat of legal action or had been notified of impending legal action if there was no change respectively.

The state of fanfiction legality has come a long way in 20+ years, but even Ao3, which has lawyers on hand to defend both its own existence and the rights of its authors, does not allow authors to talk about taking commissions (ie, getting paid) or post links to websites such as kofi or patreon. The idea of “making money” off of fanfiction still exists in a dangerous gray zone that not even the lawyers of Ao3 can protect you from.

Still, one of the stereotypes of the true artiste is that they do not create with money in mind to begin with, so this cannot be the only factor in fanfiction’s discrediting as an art form. Another consideration, then, is the content of fanfiction itself. So far, I have not endeavored to try and define the word “fanfiction.” Everyone reading this surely has their own conception of the word in mind either from first-hand experience or cultural osmosis. To me, defining fanfiction is as fruitless a pursuit as trying to define any other medium of artistic expression. What is sculpture? What is painting? What is documentary filmmaking? Definitions require limits, and limits breed exceptions.

Perhaps the broadest stereotypical definition of fanfiction is that it is derivative work containing sexually-explicit love stories of a primarily homosexual-male variety. Many of the most famous pairings -KirkxSpock, SasukexNaruto, DanxPhil- would seem, to the distant observer, to fit this stereotype. A related stereotype replaces the homosexual-male romance with a heterosexual romance between a male celebrity/fictional character and a female oc or “original character” who is thus presumed to be the author’s self-insert (meaning that the female oc is a one-to-one reflection of the author herself). Think of all the most infamous One Direction fanfiction for a taste of this stereotypical form.

However, as you may have guessed, these stereotypes lead to a superficial understanding of what fanfiction can be. If you go to Ao3 right now, you will find that there are five content ratings that can be attached to a fic: General Audiences, Teen and Up Audiences, Mature, Explicit, and Not Rated. By definition, there is no way to know what sort of content is in a “Not Rated” fic, but putting that aside, let us for a moment be ultra-conservative and assume ALL “Explicit” and “Mature” fanfictions have sex (as an author who has used this system, I know for a fact that they do not). Even with this ultra-conservative assumption, going to any popular series with over 200,000 archived stories will reveal to you that sexually-explicit fanfictions make up less than half of what is published. What types of stories are contained in the majority of fanfictions, then?

Well, let’s take a moment to look at the chat fic as just one example. Chat fics are not the most popular type of fanfiction, but they often attract a fair amount of readers. Chat fics are meant to be, well, group chats between fictional characters. Some may have suggestions of romance, but many of these fics would be better described as chaotic, humor-driven affairs (the humor in this case, as in all cases, being somewhat subjective). Authors often have the freedom to play around with each character’s screen name, as well as what other characters might have someone saved as in smaller or private chats. Details like these reveal that, while chat fics may appear on the surface to be some of the most simple and easy-to-write fanfictions, they often require in-depth knowledge of not just canon facts but also fanon (“fan canon”) tropes to be accepted and enjoyed authentically by readers. The implementation of this knowledge is doubly impressive when the original source material exists in a world without cellphones and the internet, and thus the author must find a way to strike a balance between referencing the original character/trait/meme/etc while making it seem congruent in the new setting. Indeed, the achievement of a particularly impressive “reference” in any fic is often met with high praise by readers in the comment section of the story.

I should say now that none of this is meant to stigmatize or label sexually-explicit fanfiction as somehow “inauthentic.” It is authentic and it is important, but it is not all that fanfiction is. One of the greatest beauties of fanfiction, as has been observed in pieces like Dan Olson’s breakdown of the Fifty Shades movies on the Folding Ideas YouTube channel, is that it lets both authors and readers get to the “good stuff” without having to be bogged down by character introductions and worldbuilding. In the contract of fanfiction, both the author and the reader have already done some amount of prior “research” so that everyone is more or less on the same page about certain aspects of the work. This is why the many iterations of Batman work no matter the change in scenery or storyline: both authors and readers are bringing assumptions to the table that they are ready and willing to see both reaffirmed and challenged.

Again, a common reason for praise in the comment sections of fanfictions comes from the perceived accuracy of a character’s depiction within the story. In this case, it doesn’t matter if the creator of the original work would actually agree with the characterization in the fanfiction, just that the fanfic author and the reader agree that it is authentic. It is understandable, then, that creators like Anne Rice would feel threatened by fanfiction. In some cases, this fear is legitimate: no well-intentioned creator would want their work altered in order to spread hateful messages, afterall. Additionally, when characters in a story are not merely fictional but are real, living celebrities/singers/idols/youtubers/etc., there are some reasonable questions about ethics and consent to consider. However, what I have mostly found throughout my years as a writer and reader is that the fanfiction contract allows for a deeper exploration of themes that mainstream media simply does not or will not explore.

This brings us to the final consideration today for why fanfiction is so often belittled and mocked, and to put it quite simply it is the creators and audience themselves. Returning to stereotypes once more, people often imagine that fanfiction is written by and for heterosexual, teenage, cis-gendered girls. The social trend of shitting on the interest of teenage girls is another topic for another time. For now, I certainly will not deny that these people exist within the space, but I also would not say they are necessarily the majority. I can only speak from my own experiences, but I have found is that fanfiction holds a strong attraction for individuals of queer genders and sexualities. These individuals, searching both to express their own feelings and to find a community, can use fanfiction as a means of attaining both. This is partially why sexually explicit fanfiction, while not the majority of what is written, can be some of the most powerful and subversive content that is produced. Fanfiction written about men is almost never fanfiction written for cis-gender men, and the truth is that pornography written by gender/sexual minorities for gender/sexual minorities just hits different.

And when it comes to minority or disadvantaged groups, queer individuals are by no means the only ones who find freedom in fanfiction. Taking characters “everyone” knows and writing them with depression, anxiety, ADHD, Autism, etc., allows authors and readers to feel fully realized in fiction for the first time. Fanfiction can be just as, and sometimes even more, resonant than traditional fiction because of just how strong people’s feelings are for their favorite characters. If those favorite characters were dismissed or betrayed in the source material, they can be given a second chance at “life” in the fanfiction. Even when this is not the case, there may be elements to characters that simply resonate with minority voices and inspire further creation even after the canon story ends.

Fanfiction is not perfect by any means. There is quite a lot to be said about problems such as the misogyny and racism that can “slip by” or be fully adopted by a fandom uncriticized. Once again, however, this is true of any artistic medium, and that’s what fanfiction is: a medium of expression, not a genre. Fanfiction can be romance, but it can also be sci-fi, mystery, comedy, thriller, historical drama, adventure, and more. It is creation constrained only by the written word itself.

Now let me tie this all back to the beginning. As I alluded to, there has recently been an increased interest in allowing ChatGPT to “write” fanfiction. I am here to say that AI fanfiction is not real fanfiction. While it is true that AI is by its very nature derivative in its outputs, AI is hollow. It has nothing to say. Fanfiction is a rich and flourishing medium which takes characters the dominant powers in society have “allowed” us to have, and it breathes into these characters fresh, minority voices. Fanfiction is art, and it is worthy of celebration, not derision and cheap imitation.

#I came back to Tumblr just to post this #But with Twitter on fire I might return permanently who knows #I have neither the time nor the skills to make a video essay #But if I did it would be this #Fanfiction

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aseplant · 2 years

Text

some high school au drawings that i don't think i'm ever gonna finish haha... but i figured i'd post them here so they'll stop marinating in my drafts at least P:

some scenes from the incomplete fic below the cut ✨

------

It takes a moment to realize Ruth has stopped beating him. Kaizan’s hand is on his shoulder, and Nagyunn glances up to see Tyr standing in the doorway.

He’s seen them, of course. It’d be impossible to miss them in the otherwise empty classroom. He doesn’t look surprised to see Ruth and Nagyunn in this position, Kaizan looming over them stoically, but how could he be? The things that go on in this place when no one is looking are an open secret.

“Hey, class monitor,” Ruth says, his grip on Nagyunn tightening nervously, even as he greets Tyr with a blustery tone. “We’re just playing. You know.”

Tyr inclines his head briefly, considering.

“Yeah, sure,” he says after a moment, moving past the doorway to his locker. “Whatever. Don’t take it too far.”

Ruth’s nervous smile morphs into a leer. He turns back toward Nagyunn, fully reassured. “Aw, look at that. Even the class monitor knows you’re just getting what you deserve.”

From the corner of his eye, Nagyunn watches Tyr retrieve his English textbook and leave without a backwards glance.

It’s not betrayal, really. That would imply he expected something from Tyr in the first place.

He hasn’t expected anything from his peers in a long, long time.

------

Najin and Lauzun appear by the school gates after about twenty minutes, back from cram school at last.

“Gyunn-ah!” Lauzun waves a hand eagerly as they approach, still energetic despite the long day and the late hour. “The teacher says my reaction speed improved a lot! I think your pointers last week really helped.”

“See, hard work pays off even outside of studying,” Nagyunn bullshits with a straight face as he falls in step with them. Truthfully, he has no idea how his advice helped when he’d mostly invented ludicrous training exercises to get Lauzun to leave him alone, but sure, whatever works.

“…You gave him advice?” Najin pouts. “What about me?”

Nagyunn gives him a playful shove. “What advice could I give you about gaming that you don’t already know?”

“It’s not about the advice, it’s about the principle of the matter,” Najin pretends to whine. “Are you showing favoritism? You like Lauzun better than me, is that it?”

“No, Jin-ah, don’t say that, Nagyunn would never,” Lauzun says earnestly.

------

He sets down the bags in his right hand to fumble for his keys, then checks his phone as he pushes open the door—no new messages from Najin and Lauzun, which means they’ll probably be home for dinner. They’re probably still out with friends for now, though.

He slides his phone back in his pocket. Alright, produce in the fridge, and then, ah, someone forgot to turn off the lights on their way out this morning, and—

Marsha. Is. Straddling. His. Brother. On. The. Sofa.

“…Hi, Nagyunn,” Najin says sheepishly, cheeks flushed and Marsha’s hand frozen halfway up his shirt.

Nagyunn calmly sets down the groceries and walks back out.

The front door falls shut behind him. He sits down on the steps, has a brief scream into his hands, and then recollects his composure.

“My eyes,” he tells the empty air forlornly.

Marsha storms out moments later, fully dressed and hair hurriedly finger-combed back into submission, her cheeks still an angry red.

“You have the worst timing,” she snaps at him.

He thinks this may be the only thing they’ll ever agree on.

------

Ruth’s face darkens. “Who—”

“The history teacher is looking for you,” the boy from the stairwell says, unreadable gaze directed toward Nagyunn. “Come.”

Nagyunn glances at Ruth. His expression is stormy, which doesn’t bode well, but Kaizan, ever the voice of reason, tells him, “Hey, look, if the teacher’s wants him we should probably lay low…”

Ruth grits his teeth.

“I’m not done with you,” he warns Nagyunn.

But he does release him, which is good enough for now. Nagyunn forces himself to his feet as the boy from the stairwell turns and starts heading for the teacher’s room, not bothering to check if Nagyunn is following. His friend throws a curious glance at Nagyunn over his shoulder, but says nothing as Nagyunn scrambles to catch up to them.

They walk to the teacher’s lounge in silence. The stairwell boy wasn’t very talkative last time either, so Nagyunn isn’t exactly surprised. He figures he’ll just give him a quick word of thanks before heading in, but when he reaches for the doorknob of the teacher’s room, the boy grabs his wrist.

“Not there,” he says shortly.

Nagyunn blinks. “But you said…”

“I lied.”

He tugs Nagyunn forward. Nagyunn obliges, even though he’s confused; he shares a glance with the boy’s blue-haired friend, who seemed just as bemused by his behavior.

They end up on the roof. It’s devoid of other occupants, which—makes sense, actually, since he’s heard rumors that one of the most ruthless third years likes to hang out up here. Doesn’t seem like she’s around though; he can’t tell if the other two are lucky or out of their minds.

The boy from the stairwell, Nagyunn notes, shields his eyes from the sunlight as soon as they push open the door. Hungover again?

His friend sits in a shady corner, and the boy all but collapses into his lap, curling up on his side with his back to the sun. Nagyunn stands awkwardly, not sure of what to do, until the boy’s friend gestures at a vague spot beside him, and he sits obediently.

“Is this because of—” that time in the stairwell, Nagyunn begins to ask, but cuts off partway when the other boy shifts slightly to glare at him. Better not to bring that up, he guesses. “…Thanks.”

The other boy goes back to hiding his face in his friend’s lap, mollified. “No problem.”

His friend glances back and forth between the two of them, utterly lost. He smiles when he notices Nagyunn looking at him. “Hey. I’m Fidorance.”

He forces himself to smile back despite his confusion and matches the other boy’s barely audible tone out of respect for stairwell boy’s hangover. “Nagyunn.”

“Zius,” stairwell boy offers, without looking up.

Fidorance raises his eyebrows, but of course, Zius can’t see, so he doesn’t react. He looks back toward Nagyunn. “So, uh, how do you two know each other?”

“We don’t,” Nagyunn says. And then, because Zius seems to want to hide their actual first meeting, he throws in a small lie. “We met in the cafeteria once.”

Fidorance looks about half-convinced, but if Zius wants a more elaborate lie, he’ll have to spin it himself. Nagyunn’s done what he can; time to change the subject.

“How’d you know my name?” Nagyunn asks. “In the hallway. Earlier.”

“Your brother’s pretty well-known,” Zius says vaguely.

God, is this how he answers all questions? Nagyunn glances at Fidorance, who just shrugs. “Najin, right? I think the whole school’s heard of him. He’s good at soccer, right?”

Nagyunn perks up. “Yeah, and gaming. He’s been that way since forever, so he’s always been popular.”

Fidorance laughs. “Yeah? Maybe I should ask him to join us at a PC bang sometime.”

“Ah, he can be picky about who he plays with,” Nagyunn grins, half-amused and half-apologetic. “Even seonbaes. Sorry.”

Fidorance is still smiling, but there’s a weird, searching quality to the way he’s looking at Nagyunn now. His smile falters. Did he say something wrong? But…

To his surprise, Fidorance breaks eye contact first, scratching his neck awkwardly.

“Um,” Fidorance begins, “so there’s no good way to ask this, but—does your brother know you’re being bullied?”

Nagyunn blinks. “But I’m not?”

Fidorance stares at him. Zius mutters something that sounds suspiciously like christ.

“What was with that kid back there then?” Fidorance asks.

“Ah.” Ruth, he means. “You know how it is.”

…Judging from Fidorance’s stare, he does not, in fact, know how it is.

Nagyunn resists the urge to cross his arms. No point in assuming a defensive posture; then Fidorance will know he’s getting under his skin.

“I mean, it’s not that big of a deal,” Nagyunn says. “Najin’s in another class. It’s natural that these things wouldn’t affect him.”

They can’t. Nagyunn’s been careful to keep it that way. He’s the older brother; it’s his job to deal with these things, not Najin. It’s troublesome, but not the end of the world.

Fidorance is giving him a weird look that’s uncomfortably close to pity.

Stop that, Nagyunn wants to say, but he doesn’t want to come off as rude when they’ve gone out of their way to help him, so he swallows his discomfort.

“You should spend your breaks here,” Fidorance says at last. “It’s pretty quiet usually.”

Nagyunn hesitates. “But Ruth will…”

“Let him,” Zius says shortly. “He’ll have a hell of a time if he thinks he can go up against Fidorance.”

Nagyunn blinks. Fidorance grins at him, and it’s no longer the amiable grin he’s been greeted with but one with a predatory glint to his eyes, and—ah, perhaps he was a little quick to write off that kind of facial scarring as an accident. This guy is dangerous. Even he can see that now.

“…and Waron?” he asks. The infamous reason why anyone with common sense knows not to hang around the roof during breaks.

Zius yawns. “You don’t need to worry about her either.”

Is Fidorance that strong? Or have they heard about the things he’s done in middle school and are setting up some kind of elaborate prank on him? Nagyunn’s always been good enough at reading people that he’s never had to worry about that kind of thing before, but today has proven that even when Zius is lying, he cannot tell.

That’s incredibly dangerous for someone who relies on reading others well to navigate school properly. Which means he should stay away from Zius, unreadable intentions and all, if he knows what’s good for him.

But… what they’re offering, even in the worst case, means that he’d get a horrible beating and then return to his normal life with Ruth. It wouldn’t be a bad deal to see what they’re playing at, at the very least.

“Alright,” Nagyunn says, offering just the right amount of a tentative smile. “I really appreciate it.”

Fidorance smiles back, all sunny and disarming again. “Of course.”

It’s not… he’s not optimistic about this, really. Nagyunn knows better than to get his hopes up.

But it can’t hurt to play along for a bit, can it?

------

At first, he assumes she’s picking on Zius. He’s heard of her, the girl with a face full of unkempt hair and a smile full of threats; everyone has. No one in middle school would look her in the eye. Rumor has it that she transferred mid-year because she beat up a teacher at her old school.

So what’s he supposed to think when he pushes open the door to the roof and finds her pinning Zius to the railing? She’s laughing, all mockery and jeers, and he’s stammering something at her, eyes averted—

But then he catches sight of Nagyunn and he lifts a hand in casual greeting. Nagyunn returns the greeting, confused.

Zius is… hm… his ears are slightly flushed. Maybe not a fear response after all. That’s interesting; he hadn’t thought the ever-unflappable Zius could react that way to anyone.

It seems it isn’t dangerous for now, so Nagyunn approaches cautiously. Waron turns, releasing her grip on Zius’s shirt, and cranes her neck at him curiously, white bangs falling into her eyes. “Who’s this? Mr. Should’ve-Been-A-Trainee?”

“That’s Najin,” Zius corrects her, subtly straightening out his collar before shoving his hands right back into his pockets. “This is Nagyunn.”

He gives a small bow. “Hello, Waron seonbae.”

She seems nonplussed. “Hm. You know me?”

“Who doesn’t?” Zius answers for him. “Anyway, answer the question. Where’s Fidorance?”

“Fighting with someone in the cafeteria, probably?”

“What.”

“He told me not to get involved,” Waron says, draping one arm lazily over Zius’s shoulders—

“—yes, you dumbass, because you just got back from suspension—”

“—So here I am~” Waron finishes brightly.

…This is a lot to process, Nagyunn thinks.

Zius heaves a long-suffering sigh and shrugs Waron’s arm off. “I’m going to go get him.”

Nagyunn looks between the two of them, unsure of what to do. “Um…”

“You can come with me if you want,” Zius tells him. Then to Waron, over his shoulder, more irately: “You stay put.”

Waron laughs. “Lighten up~”

Zius mutters something unflattering under his breath.

------

Waron bends down slightly so that their eyes are level. She flashes a bright grin at him. “I don’t do things for free.”

Sure, he gets that. “What do you want?”

Waron tilts her head, considering. Then: “Fadiyan says you’re ranked first in your year. Add me. Let’s figure something out.”

“Okay.”

She stares at him for a moment, then drops her phone into his outstretched hand so that he can type in his KaKaoTalk ID.

When he passes her phone back to her, she tells him, “That was too easy. Put up more of a fight next time.”

He furrows his eyebrows. “Against Ruth?”

Or does she mean herself?

She hums as she types something out and doesn’t answer the question.

“Alright, check your phone,” she says cheerfully. “I’ll see you around.”

She gives him a jaunty little wave and strides off.

Nagyunn opens his phone to find a new message: it’s waron~

Her profile picture is a chicken, of all things.

He wonders, briefly, how his life got so strange that he now has their schools’ most notorious troublemaker’s contact information.

------

He makes a strangled noise and buries his face in his hands. “I thought we agreed to never talk about that again.”

Zius laughs. “You brought it up.”

He offers Nagyunn some more of his pocky as a consolation prize. Nagyunn takes another and nibbles it contemplatively.

Truthfully, he hadn’t really expected Zius to actually answer his questions. He’s normally so reluctant to talk about himself, though to be fair, he has been making an effort to be more open with Nagyunn after that bathroom incident.

He hadn’t expected a lot of things when he’d first met the third year, or even when he’d met him the second time—or, if he’s being honest, even now. But Zius has always said that their kindness isn’t contingent on helping him. So… why?

“Seonbae?” he says at length.

“Yeah?”

“Why are you—” Nagyunn waves his hand around vaguely. “You know.”

Zius blinks. “The others enjoy your company. I enjoy your company.”

“But…”

Zius studies Nagyunn for a long time, a calculating look in his eyes.

“Well,” he says, “I mean. I’m surrounded by dumbasses; you’ve seen Fadiyan and Fidorance at work. It’s nice having a perceptive hubae.”

Nagyunn squints. He gets the distinct feeling Zius is humoring him. (Or perhaps lying straight out to his face, hiding his true intentions—)

“Okay,” he says. “…thanks for looking out for me, hyeong.”

Zius snaps the pocky stick he’s currently holding.

“What the hell,” he says, then bonks Nagyunn over the head with the rest of the box. “Idiot.”

Nagyunn tilts his head. That’s an interesting reaction. He grins. “Are you embarrassed?”

“No. Shut up.”

Nagyunn laughs and filches another pocky from the box, chocolate-end first. “What, does no one call you that? Hyeong. Hyeong. Hyeo—”

Zius dumps the rest of the pocky out and throws the empty box at Nagyunn.

Nagyunn wheezes as it bounces to a pathetic stop on the steps below. “Come on now, that was weak, hyeong—”

Zius pulls his hood up, presumably to hide his reddening ears.

“I’m gonna kill you,” he mutters into his hands.

#the ember knight #my art #my writing #is it ooc #possibly #but its not my fault i swear #i get possessed by brain demons for 72 hours pound out half a draft that is incomprehensible even to god and then never look back #i kinda wanna finish the fic someday tho #i think the ember knight fandom needs a little more found family that is completely unsupported by all canon evidence <3 #waron #zius #fidorance #nagyunn #snip #aseplant art

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orchideae · 8 months

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#Orchideae. This is a rather canon-strict depiction of Yelan, from Hoyoverse's Genshin Impact, rather passionately run by Sae (30+), and established in September of 2023.

I'm an absolute Liyue fanatic and tag rambler, who does the occasional resource post because old habits die hard (does 'iniziare' ring a bell?) But to sum me up in brief: I'm an intense deep-diver of lore, and I haven't loved something as intensely as Genshin in a long time. This blog will thread only with mutuals, but my inbox is always open for inquiries or curiosities from anyone. Aside from all of that, I also have blogs for Kafka, Guizhong, and Seele, even if they're presently inactive.

It's late. The residents sleep peacefully behind closed doors, listening to the pitter-patter of the heavy rain. Those fond of traveling at such times are either ill-intentioned, or secretly pursuing the former. It doesn't matter who wins or loses. The rain will wash away all traces either way. When the dawn breaks and the sky clears, the mysterious guest would have been gone already, without a soul noticing.

Rules (below the read more) / Meta: mini / Meta: not-so-mini / Threads

Writer/Disclaimer. Hey, hi! I’m Sae, I’m kind of in my early to mid thirties, and I’m currently located in France. While I’m in the GMT+1 timezone, my schedule allows me to sometimes be around at rather odd hours for most Europeans, so if you see me throwing you a like in the middle of the nigh, it’s our little secret.

Furthermore (and most importantly so), I bear no affiliation with the company of Hoyoverse, the game of Genshin Impact, the character of Yelan or anything related. Any and all written and visual (excluding reblogs) material found on this blog however are, unless stated or referenced otherwise, entirely my own.

A practice of the ‘one verse’ concept. This might seem a little confusing, so let me try to make this as clear as I can. As I settle into my interactions, I will try to fit most, if not all, of my threads within the same ‘verse’. There will of course be exceptions to this, including (but not limited to) conflicting/duplicate dynamics. The primary reason why I do this and have always enjoyed doing so, is that I love to be able to reference events that occur in threads, in others. This feels like I'm writing a more complete story that involves more characters across the board. This also allows, if people wanted, for others who interact with each other to do the same with my portrayal of Yelan. But if you’d prefer I don’t include you in this, simply say so!

Shipping / ‘Single romantic shipping’. This plays into the previous point, but I need to preface it just a little bit. While this is just my personal opinion of her, I don’t particularly see Yelan as someone who is made for romantic relationships in any cases except one. I feel this way because of her line of work (and her likely inevitable fate), but more importantly so, the reason that draws her to take on the work that she does. After the loss of her team, she told Ningguang the following: “We both made a mistake: We shouldn’t have involved ordinary folk in what we do.” This shows that Yelan shoulders a burden that she believes others couldn’t and/or should never bear because of the fate that is tied to it. For Yelan, this speaks of such an inherent loneliness that she has chosen in her life and is okay with, which is presumably because it’s deeply-rooted in her due to the fate of her team, and the influence of her ancestors. But this decision makes her rather incompatible with most individuals, for she will, honestly, never give up what she does while she lives. In my opinion, this leaves the only people (for romantic long-term investments), ones who have or know a similar life to her. It’s not filling loneliness with someone else, it’s finding the same loneliness in another by happenstance, for they understand this incomprehensible thing.

With that in mind, my verse(s) will all inevitably work towards a ship with delusionaid’s Wriothesley. This is exclusive to her portrayal and will not be written with another.

An important tidbit however: Based on how exemplary care she takes of herself physically, denying herself of simple pleasures such as sweets (usually) because they can too easily create an addiction and ‘disrupt focus’, I continue this across the board. The human body has its inevitable cravings, and so I do believe she indulges in physical encounters to relieve herself of this. I do not see these as ships, and they take place before and in the early phases of her slow-forming relationship with Wriothesley. Some examples of contenders for this? Kaeya, and Beidou— and no, Ningguang is and would never be included in this lineup. But never fret, this is simply a personal headcanon of mine and will never be forced on you if you write any of these characters.

Social Politics. Alright, I need to note a couple of very important tidbits about this topic. Simply put, I’m here to write, I don’t get involved in social politics of any kind, this includes (but is not limited to): call-out and cancel culture, white knighting in the eyes of anon hate, ship wars, gatekeeping, and real life politics. This blog will venture into mature and sometimes debatable themes, and if you’re unsure whether that’s up your alley, you’re free to unfollow me at any given time. There is no ill will! I’m incredibly big on respect, and I happily offer it to you in the same capacity as you offer it to me. Disagreement does not mean a default of disrespect, after all.

#[ psa. ] seeing isn't always believing. and if you can't trust your eyes; you certainly can't trust rumors.

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goneadrift · 2 years

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AO3 First Lines Tag Game

Thanks @klainelynch and @dairogo for tagging!

Rules: Share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written fewer than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

It’s been a while since I last did this so there are new ones. Putting it under cut because it’s getting rather long...

Some of these are chapters but really they're stand alone works so I'll count them in.

FMA, Havolina & Riza (fluff, pre-relationship)

“Havoc, seriously?” Riza said amusedly as she clambered onto a bar stool next to her teammate. “We grab lunch here every day but the food isn’t good enough to choose it willingly for dinner. No offence, Becca,” she sent an apologetic smile to her friend.

FMA, Rebecca & Riza (light hearted banter)

“Call me when you get back home. Or whenever you need me to pick you.” “Ri, that’s not my first date and you’re not my mom.”

FMA, Havolina & Riza (established relationship, temporary memory loss, fluff)

The rhythmic beeping machine sound was loud in the otherwise silent hospital room. Riza’d find the noise irritating if wasn’t monitoring her best friend’s heart rate and reassuring her that Rebecca was indeed simply sleeping.

FMA, Havolina (post-canon, established relationship, fluff)

As they successfully escaped Riza’s interrogation, Jean was trying to estimate damage after what he said at Mustang’s office.

take the risk (it's worth getting caught), FMA, Havolina (post-canon, established secret relationship with mutual pinning)

The saying goes that the perversity of the universe tends towards a maximum. Rebecca was sure that it exceeded the maximum whenever time crept closer to holidays or her days off.

no one sees how i'm burning, FMA, Rebecca & Riza (Riza centric, angst, outside perspective, kinda character study)

Rumor had it that the Flame Alchemist was like a tinderbox. A sudden move, a wrong word, a dirty glance — anything might set him off. His reputation preceded him after the war in Ishval. Within the military the impression of a volatile and potentially rogue veteran only cemented after the escape and murder of Maria Ross. The accident in Central was bad enough that the talks reached the other Commands. However, after years of knowing Riza Hawkeye and serving to General Grumman, Rebecca Catalina knew better than to believe whatever rubbish she heard or to take anything at face value.

pour my heart into your hands, FMA, Royai (established relationship, romantic fluff)

Captain Hawkeye heard strange noises coming from the office even before she entered. Their office, which was supposed to be empty save for the “Second Lieutenant” Hayate. “...the signal...” “...go exactly where...” “...good boy, good Hayate!...” Someone clearly was there and, judging by the lack of fuss from Hayate, this someone was a familiar figure in her dog’s life.

Valérian et Laureline, Laureline/Valérian (canon compliant, angst)

Laureline was laying on her bed for what felt like hours. She kept staring up at the ceiling, lost in memories and twisting the ring on her finger. Feels like an eternity since I last saw you. Time and everything that tended to come with it was a touchy subject for them — hence the sweeter this admission seemed.

Is this the ending of what we've begun? SPY x FAMILY, Loid/Yor (identity reveal, angst)

"And what shall we do with this one?" The stranger remained silent, only breathing heavily — the beating and the bounds must have been hard on his joints. Yor didn't hurry up to release him.

The things I feel now I never thought I'd find, SPY x FAMILY, Loid/Yor (protective Loid Forger, inspired by fanart)

Twilight didn’t know how it came to this. Or he knew but never let himself think hard about it. Till it became too late. Till he couldn’t lie to himself anymore. Oh how blind he was. But this particular guilt was fruitless now.

Tagging @scienceoftheidiot @traumschwinge @musing-and-music @jedidragonwarriorqueen @nightofnyx8 if you want to 🧡

#tag game #gone writing

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abronzeagegod · 1 year

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Untitled Bee Novel Chapter 2: The Secret Life of Shrar

[This is the second chapter of my young adult, sci-fi, spy thriller, alternate history story. I'm posting some of them here to try and get the motivation to finish this draft. Enjoy, let me know if you like it.]

Chapter One ||

A thousand miles away from the cold November weather of the Midwest, Hiraksyau, woke on her small cot in the island nation of Si Yatz. She had been up late reading. Last week, she had gotten a book from the library that was a narrative history of the Caribbean Wars with her people and the Spanish back in the 1500’s. There were so many fascinating things happening, and she had already been curious about pirates so this was an amazing find. She couldn’t help herself and was trying to read through it as fast as she possibly could.

Besides, reading about pirates was much more interesting than going to bed on time and being up and ready for her required military service duty rotation.

Hira would rather sleep, or read, but no, she really had to get up. If she didn't, Natúdrafe would be all over her. Not that Rafe needed a reason to be all over her. Hira was just a shrar stationed at this middle of nowhere outpost, and Rafe was a dralf, only one step above her, so that made Hira her responsibility. Any time Hira messed up or failed a task, it would reflect badly on Rafe, so she pushed her subordinate hard.

She climbed off her bed, and rolled her shoulders, a motion that released some of the tension that had built up. She shook out her wings and then her legs, trying to get the blood flowing and wake up more.

After addressing her morning routine (a light brushing with some unscented cleaning oil and a functional brush, cleaning her mandibles and teeth), the young zlilfian put on her morning workout uniform and left her tiny little room. She had to make it to the gym on time, otherwise Rafe would be mad.

Why did she make Hira get up two hours early to do combat training?

At the small gym, Rafe was already waiting for her. Hira sighed, quietly to herself.

“You’re late again,” the older shrar said. “Up late reading again?”

Hira nodded, rubbing her right eyes, making sure to get both the larger eye and the smaller compound eye.

“What is it this time? More human history? Like the history of American colonization and their coercion of their 40 states into a government?”

“No,” Hira responded. “That was two weeks ago. This time it was about pirates and the wars with the Spanish we had five hundred years ago.”

“Sounds like fun, but not so much fun that you can get away with not doing your job.”

Hira just grumbled at her, a deep humming noise that was emphasized by a subtle beat of her wings. It didn’t help that Rafe was already a better shrar than her, but this whole being in charge thing wasn’t fair.

Rafe heard the dissatisfaction and told Hira, “How about we make a deal? You beat me in our sparring match and you won’t have to do anything with me the rest of the day.”

Hira perked up at that. Her combat skills were extremely poor, she could readily admit that, which is why she was station out in this tiny outpost at the edge of the island on the nightwatch section for her mandatory stint in her Great House’s military. She had to do her duty, she just didn’t like doing that duty. So the fact that Rafe was offering to give her a day away from all the nonsense of training and drills and tests, was an offer she couldn’t refuse. With all that extra time Hira could probably finish the general history on the pirates and then spend a couple hours looking up famous zlilfian sailors of the era and trying to find biographies to read next.

Rafe could see how excited that offer made Hira, which instantly made her much more awake and alert. Her plan did the trick.

“You’re on,” Hira said, trying not to sound too excited. She sounded exactly as excited about this as she was.

“Alright. First one to pin the other twice wins,” Rafe said as she climbed into the little sparring ring and started to get ready with a few quick stretches, flexing her arms, legs, and wings.

Rafe had the height advantage on Hira, by a few inches. She was bigger than the average shrar at just over five feet tall. Things didn’t look good for Hira, especially since she had only ever managed to pin Rafe once in their hand to hand drills.

Hira climbed into the ring and settled in to spar with her superior officer.

“Hold your guard up, in front of your face,” Rafe said, correcting her form the second they started.

“I can’t see if I hold my hands in my face.”

Rafe gave Hira a flat look, eyes slightly closed, antennae out to the sides. “You know that’s not what I meant. You’re too focused on using your front vision, let your other eyes alert you to movement and then react.”

Hira tried to concentrate and use her compound eyes, the smaller set that sat a few centimeters above the bigger set of binocular eyes. But in the time that she spent trying to concentrate and let her compound eyes take over and sense the motion, Rafe had struck her twice. The blows weren’t as hard or as fast as they could have been. Hira knew she was being played with.

“You got to stop thinking about it so hard,” Rafe commented as she ducked a very wide swing Hira let out with her right hand. “You’re smart, so you got to fight like it.”

Hira grumbled and tried again. The second set of eyes every zlilfian was borning with, while not good at seeing detail, were excellent at detecting motion from a very wide angle. She took a second to breathe and stopped focusing on the specific details. In the fight it wasn’t necessary to look at Rafe’s almost perfectly symmetrical stripes of black and yellow that ran horizontally across her face and shoulders, in contrast to Hira’s big splash of yellow across her entire face that sort of dripped down her chin and neck then down her chest. Or the fact that she was very tall for a shrar, or that, in just about every way, Rafe was a very pretty woman who was going to kick Hira’s butt again.

The next series of blows Rafe sent towards Hira, she was able to dodge all the punches, but the kick almost threw her off balance. Hira could only counter by fluttering her wings in a quick flight backwards to get out of Rafe’s range, but unfortunately that put her into the corner of the ring.

The second Rafe closed the distance it was all over. The grapple and pin were quick and not entirely painless. After a moment of being held in a tight embrace, Hira tapped out. Rafe helped her up.

“Use your strengths, use my strengths against me, come on,” Rafe said, trying to get Hira motivated and active. “Use that big brain of yours.”

“It’s early Natúdrafe, give me a minute to wake up,” Hira snapped.

“Combat isn’t going to wait for you to be well rested and ready, Hiraksyau,” Rafe countered, using Hira’s full name in retaliation for her using Rafe’s. “You can do this. Or you’re going to be joining me after rounds for a full weight work out. And flying drills.”

Hira groaned again. She hated weight training, it was hard work and intensive and gross. But flight drills were easy, Hira was always a good flier.

“Although if you can pin me twice you won’t have to do either,” Rafe said gently, trying to tease some life out of Hira.

They settled into their ready poses, and Hira had a sudden idea. She fluttered her wings, both sets, the big ones on her shoulders, and the small ones from the middle of her back. The sudden burst of movement from all over along with a feint attack with her left arm caused Rafe to back into a defensive pose as her compound eyes saw a lot of movement from lots of directions.

Using this moment of defensiveness from Rafe, Hira moved. She transitioned to using her wing movements to push herself forward, and slipping under and around Rafe’s guard. From her blind spot, Hira managed to grapple her from behind, and pushed Rafe to the ground.

After a few seconds of struggle, Rafe couldn’t break the hold and Hira’s weight pinned her down.

“Ok, ok, you got me,” she said. “Now let me up.”

Hira hummed slightly to herself in joy as she stood up off the other girl, holding out her hand to help Rafe up off the mat.

“Alright, last one,” Rafe informed her. “This is for all the seeds.”

Hira rolled her shoulders and her wings, and settled back into her ready position. Rafe did the same. Hira wanted to win so badly. She could have a night off, free to do whatever she wanted, and not have to worry about work or any of the other boring tasks she had to deal with on a daily basis. This was too good of a reward to pass up.

She tried the same maneuver, a feint combined with a flying maneuver, but at the same time Rafe went in with a series of quick attacks. Both girls moved at the same time, resulting in what should have been a soft blow, but instead was a very hard blow with a low crack as Rafe inadvertently hit Hira square in the face.

The world for Hira went black for a moment after the blow landed. The pain came in hard a second later. When the world returned and the pain subsided from a harsh spike to a dull ache, Hira found herself on the ground, Rafe kneeling over her.

“Sorry about that,” Rafe said quietly. Her antennae pointed down, both in shame and to help her examine the injured shrar. “I didn’t expect you to move so fast.”

“Ow,” Hira moaned.

“Are you ok?”

“Nothing broken, just hurt.”

Rafe held out her hand. “Well to make it up to you, we can just do the flying drills tonight.”

Hira groaned again and didn’t take the offered hand right away. She just lay on the ground, despite the uncomfortable position on her wings.

“That sad look isn’t going to get you out of this. Even if I do feel very bad.”

Hira rolled her eyes and took the offered hand.”

“Go get ready for breakfast, my treat this time.”

Hira stood up, and failed to suppress a happy little dance. Rafe may be abrasive and much too into the physical stuff, but she always had a way of finding the good fruits and nuts for breakfast.

“Don’t look too pleased with yourself,” Rafe called over her shoulder. “It isn’t because I like you. I just feel bad for how badly I beat you.”

#my fiction #and now we get to the bee people the beeple if you will #untitled bee novel

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