#the gremlin writes fanfiction

[anto-pops]

Heart of Vipers - Ominis Gaunt x Female!Reader

Summary: After an ill-fated confrontation with Ominis' family, you come to learn that they want you for themselves. More specifically, they want your abilities for themselves. Ominis is less than pleased with the revelation and returns home with the intention of proving that the only person you belong to is him.

Alternatively summarized as Dominis turning into a possessive alpha male in the wake of his family's sudden interest in you.

Word Count: 9.3k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, minor depictions of violence, explicit sexual content, rough/possessive sex à la Dominis

Descriptions of Marvolo and Aleister Gaunt heavily credited to legacyshenanigans

Full fic can be found here on Ao3 (as always with more eclectic tags)

This was a bad idea. Truly one of the worst ones you had come up with in recent times– which was saying something when you stopped to consider all the stupid shit you’d gotten yourself into since starting at Hogwarts. But this was a decision born of desperation, and one that you adamantly refused to go back on. 

Not that you could, realistically. You were already here. 

The Gaunt Estate was massive. It was an imposing structure, shrouded in a perpetual darkness that seemed to kill off even the tiniest slivers of light, and you’d noted the distinctly foul scent of dark magic that encased the mansion from roughly a mile away. There were no Floo Flames to utilize for travel, so you’d been forced to apparate to Great Hangleton and walk the remaining six miles to reach your destination. This was your first time setting foot anywhere near Ominis’ childhood home, and the threat of splinching yourself by apparating to an unfamiliar location was a very legitimate concern. 

You almost wished you’d taken the gamble, if only to spare yourself the harrowing journey on foot. 

Ominis had to already be inside the manor, having left long before you decided you would follow him to essentially eavesdrop on his meeting with his family. You had never seen him so agitated in the hours leading up to his departure, and it was entirely due to the letter he’d received from his father. What it had said, you didn’t know, but you knew Ominis well enough to figure out that it wasn’t anything good. His entire demeanor had changed upon reading the apparent summons, but he wouldn’t tell you a lick of what it was about. He’d promised to return home as soon as he was able and left without so much as a goodbye kiss. 

The memory only reinforced the fact that this was a really bad idea. What the hell were you thinking? 

Now that you were actually here, you had no clue how to go about your poorly thought out plan. Going inside had always been the goal, but now that you were face to face with the blood-chilling building, you found yourself hesitating. Something told you that getting out would be a lot harder than getting in. You didn’t even know where Ominis could be, especially if the interior was as gargantuan as the exterior. Getting lost– or Merlin forbid, caught and tortured– seemed like the most plausible outcome. 

It was as the saying went; curiosity killed the cat. You seriously hoped you wouldn’t end up dead as a result of your inquisitiveness. 

Forcing one foot in front of the other, you started down the gravel path towards the arched double doors with your wand in hand. Your anxiety was like a physical entity hiding within your chest, but you smothered it beneath the overwhelming desire to ensure that Ominis was okay. While you knew he could handle himself, his family’s reputation preceded them, and you’d feared the worst earlier when you had borne witness to his expression shifting into something far more sinister than you were accustomed to. 

You cast a disillusionment charm for extra measure before giving the handle a testing twist, relieved to find that the door was unlocked. It wouldn’t surprise you if there were other safeguards in place that you were unaware of, but pressing on despite that unknown possibility was a risk you were willing to take. You opened the door a crack– just enough for you to squeeze through before quickly shutting it behind you– and you were instantly encased in suffocating darkness. 

The windows that lined the walls were evidently just for show. 

It smelled distinctly old inside, as though there had never been a time when the mansion wasn’t inhabited. The wooden columns that lined the entryway were cracked and worn, stretching all the way towards the vaulted ceilings before disappearing into the inky shadows high above. There was a striking amount of antique looking decor that lined the walls; from suits of armor, to ornate vases perched atop mahogany tables. Straight across from the front door was a giant portrait of what could only be the Gaunt family.

Ominis was nowhere to be found in it. 

The sound of distant, unintelligible voices echoed throughout the vast foyer from somewhere deeper in the house, drawing your attention and making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Your eyes scanned the room once more before you were furtively moving further into the room in the direction of the noise. 

Following the sound of the voices brought you to a giant oak doorway– a mere fraction of the size of the main entrance, but still obscenely large. From within you could hear a man you didn’t recognize, his throaty timbre one that seemed to command attention, and you couldn’t suppress the shiver that danced down your spine. Nothing about his tone sounded pleasant. 

“It’s been put off long enough,” you heard the man say as you sidled up directly against the door, careful not to lean on it too much and risk shoving it open. “We entertained your rebelliousness while you were at school, but Apollonia has anticipated this union for years now. It will happen. Whether you’re a willing participant, however, is up to you.”

“You already know my stance on the matter.” Ominis. “I’d sooner dig my own grave before I let you marry me off to that deplorable woman. She’s psychotic–” 

“A non-issue,” interjected the older voice. 

“Perhaps it’s irrelevant to you, but not to me,” Ominis snapped. You hardly recognized the threatening lilt in his voice; he sounded thoroughly fed up with the discussion, and you briefly wondered how long he’d been going at it with the unknown man. “She’s utterly wicked. Moreover she’s family. Have you forgotten my opposition to these incestuous relations you continue to shove down my throat?” 

At this point, you were almost positive the deeper voice belonged to Ominis’ father. You knew next to nothing about the man, other than the fact that Ominis loathed him with his entire being. Before you could delve further into your thoughts, a distinctly feminine voice filtered through the thin slit in the doorway, sounding colder than ice. 

“Aleister, give it a rest. If he wants to be dragged to the altar instead of walking down it, then so be it.” 

Ominis’ laugh was crass and devoid of any genuine humor, and you could practically hear the sneer in his rebuttal. “Bold of you to assume I’ll let myself be dragged anywhere. Try it and see what happens.” 

“I just don’t understand why you’re so opposed to this,” the woman continued as though he hadn’t even spoken. “You never used to fight us to this extent– you’ve always known what was expected of you as a Gaunt. Does that girl from Hogwarts have anything to do with this?” 

Your entire body went rigid at the mention of yourself, and a tense silence descended over the room. It was suddenly so quiet that you were certain you could hear a pin drop– but in this case the lack of sound allowed you to pick up on something shifting across the floorboards closer to you. You had barely glanced over your shoulder before you were jumping away from the door with your heart hammering in your chest. 

The biggest snake you’d ever seen in your life was slithering across the floor, its iridescent scales somehow reflecting the nonexistent light within the hallway. Your eyes went wider than saucers as you stepped away as much as you could, silently backing yourself into the tiny alcove beside the doorway in a bid to remain undetected– because if there was one thing the wizarding world had taught you, it was that beasts of any kind were far more intelligent than they were given credit for. The snake’s long, forked tongue flicked out incessantly as it made its way towards the doors, but it stopped short of the entryway to pivot its massive head in your direction. 

It was looking right at you. 

Fuck.

Your body tensed in anticipation of the worst; maybe it was venomous and you’d die quickly, or maybe it was more inclined to strangle the life out of you before depositing your corpse in front of Ominis and his parents. The thought made your stomach churn, and your eyes flicked down to confirm that yes– the disillusionment charm was still working– but that didn’t seem to matter where the reptile was concerned, and you mentally chided yourself for ever having let your curiosity get the better of you. 

The conversation on the other side of the door continued as your staring contest with the snake pressed on. “That girl is none of your concern. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll refrain from speaking to me about her.” 

“Ominis,” Aleister admonished with a rough voice. “Don’t you dare speak to your mother that way. Such hostility for some witch we know nothing about– perhaps it’s time to rid you of her influence once and for all. She’s proving to be a greater distraction than I had anticipated.”

Your eyes stayed glued to the snake’s, but your blood ran cold. 

“Over my dead body. If you so much as look at her–”

“That can be arranged. No son of mine will be consorting with some harlot of unknown blood purity. You’d be better off in the grave–” 

“Aleister!” Ominis’ mother yelled, silencing the back and forth bickering instantaneously, and you found the willpower to shift your feet sideways so you could better make a break for the front door.

There was another flick of the creature’s tongue as it blatantly scented your presence, but it made no move to inch closer to you. While you were grateful to still be breathing, you were also deeply, irrevocably afraid, and you came to the resolute decision that it was time to get the hell out of there. 

You moved out of the alcove slowly while maintaining what you deemed to be a safe enough distance from the snake, and all the while its thin, slitted pupils followed your movements. The blasted thing had an awareness to it that sent shivers down your spine, overwhelming you with the urge to run and get away, but vigilance was key. It wasn’t poised to strike, but that just made you even more nervous. 

Why wasn’t it attacking you? 

You adamantly refused to turn your back on the reptile, so you kept your front to it as you skirted the edge of the wall in the direction of the entrance. The discussion between Ominis and his parents was muffled now– their voices distinctly lower after his mother had cut off their argument with her biting tone– but you no longer cared to listen in. You craved safety, and nothing about the Gaunt household offered that. 

As you came upon the final stretch of the hallway, the snake flicked out its tongue once more before it was turning around to begin slithering towards you, and the remnants of your bravery evaporated. Fear overtook you, and the disillusionment charm that had shrouded you in transparency fell away as you pivoted and bolted around the corner. A chill-inducing hiss echoed from down the corridor– the first real sound you’d heard the animal make– and it only served to propel you towards the exit even faster.

The gargantuan double-doors swam into view, and just as you were reaching out to curl your fingers around the handle, a strong arm was coiling around your waist and hauling you backwards with enough force to give you whiplash. A startled, pained yelp was expelled from your lungs as you were slammed into the wall beside the doors, and your hip connected painfully with a tiny side table that careened against the floor. The vase that had been perched atop it shattered loudly, the ceramic pieces scattering across the tile, but you barely got the chance to gauge the extent of the damage before an unfamiliar face was blocking your sight. 

“Well well well, just look at what the cat dragged in. Get lost on your way home, doll?”  

It took a second for the statement to register, but once it had, you were craning your head back to glare boldly at the arrogant sounding man. His tawny eyes were narrowed down at you in amusement, his thick forearm pinned horizontally across your chest to restrain you firmly in place between himself and the wall, and the predatory look in his gaze had your stomach sinking into your feet. Everything about him screamed dangerous; from the unruly hair that curled around his temples to the animalistic way he bared his teeth at you– there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that the man would kill you if he deemed it acceptable. You cursed yourself silently for having put yourself in such a predicament in the first place. 

The imposing man cocked his head to the side coyly as he teased, “I hardly think I deserve such a cruel expression when you’re the one sleuthing around my house uninvited.”

Your mouth opened and shut a few times before you managed to stammer out, “I-I wasn’t–” 

“Don’t deny it,” he cut you off quickly. “What other reason would Ominis’ little plaything have for being here? I sincerely doubt the house-elves held the door open for you.” 

The term ‘plaything’ made you scowl, distracting you from the fact that the man even knew who you were, and you brazenly planted your hands against his firm chest to shove him away. It was like pushing against an immovable boulder. “I’m not his plaything, you prat–”

His free hand shot up in a flash to grip the sides of your jaw painfully, the look on his face darkening tenfold as he growled, “Careful now, I’d hate to lose my temper and take away my brother’s pet.” The fingers splayed under your face tightened a fraction as the crazed man angled your head to the side, shamelessly pressing his nose against the sensitive skin of your throat before he inhaled deeply. You shuddered uncomfortably at the contact. “Although I’m beginning to understand his infatuation a bit. You smell… different. What is that, exactly?” 

You had no fucking clue what he was referring to, nor did you care to find out. Each passing second brought the towering man closer into your personal space, and when one of his legs started to weasel its way in-between yours, you found yourself attempting to writhe out of his ironclad grip. “Let go of me,” you demanded in a low voice, doing your best to keep your words steady and hide the rampant unease in your tone. 

“Answer my question,” he countered easily. “Or I’ll snap your scrawny neck and be done with it. Makes no difference to me whether you live or die–” 

“If you have any desire to keep those slimy hands of yours, you’ll remove them this instant, Marvolo.” 

Your eyes widened at the sound of Ominis’ booming voice echoing throughout the foyer, which had the elder Gaunt smiling wickedly at you. He didn’t bother turning around, opting to stay right where he was and drop his fingers lower so he could squeeze around your windpipe, and you knew your choked gasp reached Ominis’ ears when he swore viciously and began walking closer. 

“Did I stutter? I said to unhand her, you cretin.”

Marvolo tutted disapprovingly, angling his head to the side so he could better keep track of Ominis coming up behind him, but he kept his eyes glued to yours all the while. “Come now, Ominis. You know how I feel about rats, and she was certainly scurrying around like one.”

You finally caught sight of the blond over Marvolo’s shoulder, and the look on his face was downright murderous. His dark, expressive brows were slammed down atop his milky-blue irises, and his pursed lips contorted into a scowl as he leveled his wand with the back of the taller man’s head. Ominis continued to side-step closer, moving with the prowess of a wolf stalking its prey, and to your immense satisfaction Marvolo broke eye contact with you to fix his gaze on his brother. 

Maybe you were imagining it, but you could have sworn he looked wary. 

“Last chance,” Ominis grit out through his clenched teeth. “Let her go. Or you’ll be nothing more than a stain on the floor.” 

The sharp laugh Marvolo let slip past his lips was positively wicked, and Ominis’ threat only served to motivate his brother into tightening his hand around your throat. Stars danced in the corners of your eyes then, and your own hand shot up to grip at the man’s thick wrist in an attempt to pry his fingers away from your windpipe. Panic flooded your brain, your racing heart drowning out the sound of Ominis’ angry voice as your pulse thundered in your ears. Fight or flight was probably an appropriate way to describe what you were feeling, but Marvolo was making both options impossible to act on. 

He wasn’t listening to Ominis. He probably never would. You would have to get yourself out of this mess on your own. 

Marvolo was barking out insults and threats over his shoulder, taunting Ominis into hurting him as he called his younger brother’s bluff. You were able to school your nerves long enough to focus and dig deep inside of yourself in search of the magic you so rarely touched. Isidora’s abilities were as much of an unknown now as they had been when you’d first absorbed them, but it was comparable to a living entity within you, and the phantom presence of her magic roared to life as you called upon it. 

You felt the strange, darker magic crackle over your skin, and Marvolo’s head whipped back around to stare at you with his pupils blown wide. Whatever he saw reflected in your eyes was enough to spark alarm in his heart, and a sick, twisted part of you relished in the apprehension that washed over his features. 

“What the fuck is that?” His hand around your throat loosened a fraction, but you weren’t about to let him walk away from this unscathed. The arm that had been hanging limp at your side stretched out until your palm was directly against his chest, and you couldn’t help but grimace when the red bolts of magic skirted across your forearm and blasted straight into his sternum. 

Marvolo went flying with a barely there grunt– his arms and legs flailing as he tried to find purchase– to no avail. He hit the stone floor and slid an additional ten feet or so until he came to rest just beside the corridor you’d run out of earlier, and your blood ran cold when an older, imposing man with salt-and-pepper hair stepped out from within the hallway. The look on his face was enough to spur you into action then, and you spared a quick, panicked glance at Ominis before you peeled off of the wall and threw the front door open. 

The cool night air was like a slap to your face, sobering you up instantaneously and driving you to pump your legs harder— faster— as you sprinted down the path that led to the dark forest surrounding the property. There was a bang from somewhere behind you and an animalistic sound you could only describe as a snarl, but you didn’t dare look back. Not when it could potentially cost you dearly. 

“Marvolo!” Ominis shouted, his voice angry and distant, but as the footsteps slapping against the gravel behind you got closer and closer, you realized it had to be him giving chase. Your heart hammered in your chest and in your ears– drowning out the sound of the encroaching danger hot on your heels– but you knew there would be no outrunning Marvolo. That crazed look in his eyes you’d seen earlier told you everything you needed to know; he would pursue you to the end of the damn country on foot if need be, and you had no intention of getting caught to find out what he had planned for you. 

Another growl sounded from over your shoulder, causing you to will your brain out of flight-mode and force your magic into action. It surged in your blood, coursing through your veins as you thought of home– of safety. 

One second you were running, and in the next you had apparated. Marvolo’s hand came down on empty air, his heels digging into the ground as he skidded to a stop and realized what had happened. You were already long gone, but his rage-filled roar shook the foundation of the manor, somehow echoing in your ears as you collapsed to your knees in the center of your living room. 

***

Your eyes stung as the steam from the bath wafted up into your face, your gaze never straying from the surface of the water. It had been nearly two hours since your narrow escape from Ominis’ childhood home and you had been in the tub for the majority of it– calming your frayed nerves and racing heart with deep breaths that did little to quell the anxiety that still riddled you. The hot water had been charmed back to scalding temperatures twice now, having gone cold multiple times already as you sat with your knees curled against your chest and replayed every second of your fortuitous run-in with Marvolo Gaunt. 

The ache in your hip throbbed to life every time you thought back to the primal glint that had flashed in Marvolo’s eyes as he’d thrown you into that table. What had started as a tender red spot on your side had transformed into a nasty, colossal bruise, stark and obvious against your bare skin. You hadn’t been able to so much as glance at the finger shaped bruises that wrapped around your neck without feeling nauseous. 

You’d made a mistake in following Ominis– that much was certain. 

The man in question had yet to return home, and as a result, the seemingly bottomless pit of unease in your chest only worsened. Part of you was ashamed for having left him alone to face his family’s scrutiny after literally breaking and entering, but you knew he wouldn’t have had it any other way. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that he would have found a way to get you out as quickly as possible if you hadn’t done so yourself. 

Still, you worried. 

Another fifteen minutes passed without a sound from within the house, and you dimly registered that the water had gone cold once more. You were half tempted to heat it up again and spend the remainder of the night turning yourself into a human-sized prune, but the ache in your back from staying curled up for so long diminished the idea quickly. Swiftly, you hoisted yourself out of the water, using the rim of the tub to steady yourself as you stood and began drying yourself off. Rivulets of water still cascaded down your body as you draped your robe over your shoulders, but you couldn’t muster up the energy to care. Fatigue overtook you as you combed through your hair with your fingers and padded into your bedroom, and the second you laid down atop the sheets, your eyes were drifting shut. 

You had no idea how long you slept before the distinct feeling of the mattress dipping roused you from your light slumber. The room was cloaked in darkness, save for the pulsing, red glow that emanated from Ominis’ wand as he hovered it over you, and you slowly started to blink the fog from your eyes. 

You had no clue how he realized you were awake, but his voice was unmistakably tight as he asked you, “Where are you hurt?” 

It took your brain a second to fully register the question, and you propped yourself up on your elbow as your eyes adjusted to the dim light and muttered, “What?” 

“You screamed,” he gritted through clenched teeth, and despite the low visibility in the room, you watched as his grip on his wand turned white knuckled. “I heard you earlier. You were in pain– I know it’s the truth– so tell me now, where are you hurt?” 

On cue, the bruise on your hip throbbed to life, and you swiftly placed your hand on top of it while silently cursing yourself for not having brewed any Wiggenweld potions after returning home. Evidently your mind had been too jumbled to do the most logical thing following the altercation. “It’s not that bad–” you started to say, but Ominis cut you off before you could downplay the injury any further. 

“Please,” he implored you, silencing you instantly with his pleading tone. “I’m trying to leave this up to you, but don’t think for a second I won’t figure it out for myself if you don’t tell me.”

Something about the desperate look on his face made you pause, and you took a moment to really take in the sight of him. He was pale– far paler than normal– and the way his brows furrowed told you that he was more anxious than you realized. His posture was still impeccable but less poised– closer to rigid. His shoulders barely moved, giving the illusion that he was hardly breathing, and you honestly weren’t sure he was at this point. 

In short, Ominis looked petrified. 

Your lips formed a hard line as your gaze traversed his stiff form, swallowing thickly before you slid your hand away from your hip to reveal the dark purple blotch that decorated your side. “My hip,” you murmured, afraid that if you spoke the truth too loudly, the tentative composure Ominis was keeping would vanish. 

The muscle in his jaw ticked, and the hand he didn’t have wrapped around the handle of his wand came to skim along your waist before hovering ever so slightly above the bruise. “Where else?” 

“This is the worst of the damage–”

“Where else?” His voice was deeper and rougher than you were accustomed to hearing, and the notable difference had your stomach flipping over on itself. It left you feeling queasy, and you honestly couldn’t tell if he was mad at you or at the situation as a whole. 

“…My neck,” you relented quietly, all too aware of the blatant anger that overtook Ominis’ face. “At least I returned the favor,” you added quickly with a half-smile, trying to lessen the severity of the claim. It was a failed attempt, however, seeing as the man averted his unseeing gaze to the floor and shook his head minutely. Dimly, you watched as he waved his wand over his free hand, and a small vial of Wiggenweld appeared in the center of his palm before he wordlessly handed it to you. Given his tense demeanor, you opted not to say anything as you took it and removed the cork, then drank down the earthy contents graciously. The relief was instantaneous, and through the darkness of the room you managed to catch sight of the bruise on your hip fading away entirely. 

Your tiny sigh of relief reached Ominis’ ears, and the tension in his shoulders seemed to dissipate– albeit barely. “You should never have gone there. Why would you set foot anywhere near that damnable house? Do you have any idea the kind of danger you put yourself in– the kind of danger that you’re still in?”

At that, you finally pushed yourself up so you were sitting with your back against the pillows, setting aside the empty vial so you could clasp Ominis’ free hand in yours. His skin was cool to the touch, and you noted the miniscule tremors that emanated from him as you squeezed the appendage to will his attention back to you. “I’m sorry, Ominis. I was worried about you– you were so upset before you left earlier and I was scared that your family would do something to you.” 

“Of course they want to do something to me. They’ve tried puppeting me into a version of myself they can tolerate for my entire life, but it’s for that very reason that I can handle them. I’ve told you what they’re like– how relentless they are– and still you went there.” His head finally snapped back in your direction, and the expression on his face was one you were certain you would never forget; it was a mask of desperation, fear, and most notably, rage. “You have no idea what you’ve done– what it means now that they’ve seen you and what you can do.”

You’d hadn’t really done much of anything, aside from blasting Marvolo across the foyer before running for your life. Still, his words kindled a spark of fear in your chest, and your hold on his hand turned loose and clammy. “What are you talking about?” 

“Before tonight, you were just an unknown witch I’d been… ‘cavorting’ with, in my father’s eyes. Easy to get rid of should the need arise. Until earlier, they didn’t believe you to be exceptionally powerful or particularly useful.”

The sudden dryness in your throat became painfully obvious. “Useful how?” 

“The Gaunt’s value power and authority over everything. Both things guarantee them the influence they need to further their own ends, and as unknown as your abilities are to them, they are undeniable. They’d be fools to ignore such a potent form of magic, and as much as I detest my family and their convoluted values, I’ll be the first to admit that they aren’t stupid. They will find a way to make that power their own– blood purity be damned– and stealing you away and marrying you off to my brother would be their most likely course of action.”

Ominis practically spat the word, his teeth bared and eyes narrowed as murderous thoughts of his brother flew through his mind. Your own head was reeling at the revelation, nausea crashing over you as you thought back to Marvolo and the sadistic way he’d smiled as he tried choking the life out of you. Someone like that wouldn’t– no, couldn’t have a caring bone in their body. But you also knew that someone of his caliber was bound to be determined to get what he wanted, and if Ominis believed that his family now sought to obtain you for their own ends, Marvolo would do everything in his power to make it happen. 

You had really, really fucked up. 

Somewhere in-between thinking of Ominis’ brother and the sickening idea of being kidnapped, your breathing had kicked up dramatically. You didn’t notice, but the blond man beside you certainly did. Ominis turned fully so his torso was angled towards you, feeling around the bed for your other hand before clasping your trembling limbs in his cooler ones, and your wide eyes flicked back up to meet his. “I won’t let them have you. Do you hear me? If they so much as glance at you, I’ll leave them wishing they had never set their sights on you.”

“You can’t know that,” you whispered, and your voice was unrecognizable to you. It was small and shaky, timid and so very, very afraid. “Marvolo is– he’s a beast. He’ll kill you in a heartbeat, Ominis. You’ll die and it will be all my fault. I-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault–” 

In a flash, Ominis silenced you with a kiss. It took you by surprise, but it was far from an unwelcome one– especially when his wand bearing hand slid to the back of your neck to pull you impossibly closer towards him. You were pleased to discover that the skin there no longer throbbed with discomfort, the Wiggenweld potion he’d given you having done its job for all the bruises, not just the one on your hip. The revelation calmed you further, and before you knew it you were melting against the taller man, grabbing fistfulls of his shirt to cling to him desperately.

Ominis broke away momentarily to murmur against your parted lips, “No one will ever take you from me, you’re mine.” 

Despite the circumstances that led the two of you to this moment, you found yourself enraptured by the possessive declaration, and you couldn’t help but lean closer into the blond’s personal space until your hands were sandwiched between his chest and your breasts. Your mouth found his again, and you fervently bit at his bottom lip as you breathily whispered, “I’m yours, Ominis. Only yours.” 

Instantly, Ominis was pushing you back towards the headboard until your head knocked against the wooden frame, not once breaking the kiss as he positioned himself on top of you. His long legs came to cage your own against the mattress as he threw his wand to the edge of the bed, freeing both of his hands so he could plant them on either side of your face. Pulling away seemed physically difficult for him but he didn’t stray far, opting to rest his forehead against yours and fix his hazy eyes directly on yours. How he knew where to aim his heady stare, you didn’t know, but your toes curled at the ardent need for you that reflected in his blue irises. 

“Say it again,” he implored you with a voice like pure sin. 

“I’m yours,” you obliged him without missing a beat, and a sigh slipped past your lips as Ominis lowered his face to pepper featherlight kisses along your jaw and down the now unmarred column of your neck. Goosebumps broke out virtually all over your body when you felt one of his cool hands fall to the neckline of your robe, and as Ominis slowly tugged the material apart to expose your bare chest, he sank his teeth into the tender spot above your clavicle. The pain laced pleasure left you moaning his name in earnest, your voice steadily growing louder as his thumb came to graze over one of your nipples. 

You felt the pressure from his teeth lessen as you arched into his touch, followed by his kiss-swollen lips latching over the bite to suck lightly. “Again,” he breathed, continuing to work his searing brand into your flesh. 

There were too many ways to describe his actions; primal, dominant, and greedy, to name a few. Yet there was a softness to his words that left your heart aching within your chest– a tenderness that spoke volumes of the fear he’d felt upon realizing you had entered into that nest of vipers. He had nearly lost you tonight, and when the hand against your breast shifted down to curl around your waist, you realized he would never allow for it to happen again. 

“I’m here, Ominis, I’m right here,” you moaned, your reedy voice bouncing off the walls of the bedroom and causing the man above you to shudder. “I’m here and I’m yours.” 

Before long, Ominis was moving back into your line of sight to capture your lips in another searing kiss. The hand on your waist traversed the bare expanse of your lower stomach before reaching your aching center, and you mindlessly wound your arms around his neck to tug him closer, bucking your hips into his hand as he slid a slender finger through your folds. 

“Mine,” he growled against your parted lips, and your next breath caught in your throat as he tentatively pushed the digit inside your wet heat. Your contented sigh filtered through Ominis’ hypersensitive ears as he pressed his finger in all the way to the knuckle, and the arm he supported himself with trembled minutely as he fought to control his baser urges. 

After everything that had transpired tonight, he wanted nothing more than to bury himself deep in your cunt, desperate to feel you clamp down around his cock and suck him in further and further as he claimed you. He longed to mark you, brand you, consume you, in every possible way– his family’s wishes be damned. He would make you his and his alone. Should any of his kin so much as attempt to interject, he vowed he would defend you until his last breath– and then not even death would stop him. Ominis knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would defy the laws of nature if it meant keeping you safe from harm. 

As you continued to rock your hips in time with Ominis’ hand, your legs spread apart of their own accord, silently beckoning him closer as you shivered under his dutiful ministrations. Ominis felt the movement and groaned in blatant appreciation, taking advantage of the newfound space to siddle down the bed and kneel comfortably between your legs, and all the while his finger continued to pump in and out of your wet heat languidly. He bestowed another toe-curling kiss upon your lips before breaking away to slide fully down the mattress, your heart stuttering in your chest as he moved low enough to settle between your quivering thighs. It was impossible to overlook the animalistic expression on Ominis’ face as he gazed in your direction– following the sound of your barely there whimpers– and your blood ignited in your veins at the sight. 

All too eager, Ominis wasted little time in securing his grip around your waist with his free arm to better pull you harder onto his finger. The keening sound that slipped from your throat was replaced almost instantly by a guttural moan, drawn forth by the feeling of your lover’s lips latching around your clit to suck enthusiastically, and your head thunked against the headboard as wave after wave of sheer pleasure cascaded through you. 

Your thighs absentmindedly clenched on either side of Ominis’ head as he shamelessly pulled your bundle of nerves into his mouth, the action accompanied by wet, perverted sounds that had damn near all the blood in your body rushing to your cheeks. “Merlin, Ominis– fuck–” 

Beyond a throaty growl, he said nothing. He simply tightened his hold on your waist, his other hand angling itself so he could better curl the finger inside of you, the combined sensations making your head positively spin. Entirely at his mercy, your hands flew to his soft, blond hair as you effectively surrendered to the pure bliss he granted you. 

If you had been hot and wet already, Ominis’ mouth felt a thousand times more so as he torturously dragged his tongue up your cunt. He removed his finger from your clenching walls and replaced it with the wet muscle, wriggling it as much as he could as though he were desperate to lap up everything that escaped out of you. Your breathing hitched and your hips involuntarily bucked when his ministrations traveled higher towards your clit, and when he finally reached it, the tip of his tongue was slow and methodical as he pressed firm, torturous circles around the throbbing bundle.

Ordinarily, having Ominis appreciatively go down on you would have been the highlight of the night, but given his domineering persona at present, you knew you were just plain fucked now. 

“Ominis, please,” you managed to croak out. “I’m not going to last, I– ah!” You practically yelped when the tips of the man’s teeth raked along your inner thigh, nipping at the soft skin there hard enough for you to jolt. 

“Just relax and let me work,” he muttered coolly, pressing a featherlight kiss to the spot he’d bitten as he dragged his hands down your abdomen to squeeze your tensing thighs. 

Despite your best efforts, you were quickly losing your grip on anything other than the sensations Ominis was lavishing you with. You felt lightheaded as you attempted to release your tense muscles, struggling to do so as your lover devoured you with reckless abandon. His nose brushed against your clit as he slipped his tongue inside of you once more, the sound of his wet, suckling noises intermingling with your breathy whines as you felt your climax building higher and higher in your gut. You couldn’t tell if your arousal was stemming from how Ominis enthusiastically used his tongue, lips, and teeth on you or if it came from the demanding way he directed you, but you decided that you didn’t care; every feeling had burrowed deep inside of you and taken root in your mind. 

You wanted more– no, needed more. 

Head whacking back against the wooden bed frame, you needily tugged at the strands of his hair wrapped around your fingers as you pleaded, “Please, Ominis, I need you…” 

Those five words did more to stroke his ego than you would ever know. Right now, Ominis needed you to need him. He wanted you to succumb to his ministrations and bend to his will, all to parry the baseless demands of his deranged family. There wasn’t a chance in hell he would ever willingly hand you over to them– much less to Marvolo– and through your rapture-filled begging, he knew he had succeeded. 

You were wholly and unequivocally his. 

He pulled away for a moment to run his hands up your thighs, over your hips, then along the pebbled peaks of your breasts. The way you trembled at his touch told him everything he needed to know; you were hanging on by a thread, and he didn’t need to see you in order to know you looked absolutely wrecked. 

Unable to endure a second more of the teasing, Ominis raised himself up on his knees to remove his clothing. Swiftly and efficiently, he dexterously undid the catch of his trousers before shoving the constricting attire down his narrow hips. There was no stopping the sigh of relief that spilled through his clenched teeth as his cock finally sprung free– long, heavy, and leaking from the red, swollen tip. With his shirt disheveled, hair mussed, and pants haphazardly hanging below his hip bones, he was truly the picture of temptation. You stared up at him through hooded eyes as he stroked himself a few times, taking in the sight of your lover towering over you as you lay prone atop the sheets beneath him. 

Once again, Ominis’ uncanny ability to feel your eyes on him surprised you, and a cheshire-like smirk blossomed across his face as he asked, “Enjoying the view?” 

“More than you are, I’d wager,” you retorted, and Ominis scoffed as his smug expression turned into one of amused disbelief. That mouth of yours was bound to land you in trouble one of these days. 

“Smartass,” he murmured affectionately, keeping one hand on his shaft as the other reached down in search of your waist, squeezing the flesh there with a bruising strength that only served to intensify the ache between your legs. You aided him by wriggling down the sheets in order to press your ass against his bent knees, and Ominis lowered himself once more so the heavy weight of his cock rested against your spit-slick folds. It was hard for you to believe that the wild haired, smokey-eyed man kneeling between your legs was the same boy who had shyly walked with you to your classes all those years ago. Both of his hands pressed against your hips this time as he sat back on his heels, white teeth flashing as he aligned the head of his manhood against your entrance. 

“Are you ready for me, darling?” Ominis asked, as though you hadn’t been begging for this very outcome minutes before. 

“Yes,” you breathed out shakily, your hands twisting in the fabric of your long-abandoned bathrobe beneath you. “I’m–”

Despite his privileged upbringing, Ominis was a fan of the simple things in life. Good food, long walks during the warmer seasons, and the sound of your voice catching when he took you by surprise and slid inside you abruptly. In one fluid motion, he breached your walls, listening intently to your sharp intake of breath as he inched himself forward until his knees were under your rear and he’d bottomed out completely. The small whimper that slipped from your mouth had a deep, throaty chuckle escaping his, and his thumbs took to tracing encouraging circles against your hips as you clenched around him. 

“I’m sure you are,” he purred in an infuriatingly sexy tone while you struggled to regain control over your breathing. Instantly, the dim embers of lust within you were rekindled, every inch of your body warm and borderline electric. Your hips writhed in Ominis’ hold in an attempt to wriggle closer, the unyielding grip he had on you coupled with the hungry expression on his face almost enough to make you come undone then and there. 

“Fuck, Ominis–” your words were cut short by a stifled moan as the blond slowly withdrew himself, arching back until only the tip of his cock was inside you before slamming his hips forward in one quick, sharp thrust. Your hands flew to his clothed knees as you dug your nails into the rumpled material of his trousers, desperate to touch every inch of him that you could but struggling to catch your breath in the midst of his slow, methodical thrusts. 

Well, methodical at first. 

You could feel Ominis’ acute desire for you with every pump of his hips, and a groan snaked its way out of his chest as he freed one of his hands to reach down and thumb over your clit. You hissed triumphantly through your teeth as you saw his expression slowly shift into something needier, his thrusts becoming less precise and more visceral. With how tight he was gripping you, you were positive the healed bruise from earlier would be replaced by long, finger shaped stripes, but you didn’t care. If it was Ominis, it was fine. If it was him claiming you, branding you, consuming you, it was more than fine. 

The blue-eyed incubus above you seemed to think similarly, if the low rumble in his chest was anything to go by. He was absolutely lost in the euphoria that came with being encased in your pulsing, tight heat, causing him to abandon his pretenses of control and give into his want for you with gusto. The hand he had on your sensitive bundle of nerves returned to grasp your waist, and even elevated as he was, he still had to thrust down into you– shaking the headboard with every plunge as he effectively fucked you into the mattress. 

The distinction was clear and evident in your mind as your legs came to wind around Ominis’ waist; the two of you had obviously been intimate before, and you had definitely made love before, but you had never been so carnally fucked like this a day in your life. It was hard to recall if Ominis had ever ravished you with such need in every stroke, enough so that you found yourself unable to control your shaking breaths or the volume of your voice. It was enrapturing– getting caught up in the way he staked his claim on you– so intent on fucking himself harder and deeper into you that his own husky murmurs of your name fell from his lips like a mantra. 

Your inability to fight your moans and curses and feverish pleas for more was what Ominis lived for. The blond craved the sound of your voice like a drug, and he drew unparalleled strength from your vocal satisfaction. Maybe it had more to do with the events of the night than anything else, but hearing you cry his name and feeling you claw at the tops of his thighs made his chest swell with possessive affection, thrilled to hear you unwittingly proclaim that you were in fact his. No one else would ever have you– no one else would ever find themselves lucky enough to have you reduced to such a state beneath them other than him. 

“M-More,” you practically sobbed the request as Ominis gripped your hips tighter, dimly registering the thundering crack of the headboard banging against the wall. “More– please– I’m s-so close–”

You asked for it with each breath expelled from your lungs, and Ominis would graciously give it to you. He couldn’t have refused you any longer if he wanted to. “You want to come, darling?” He panted, receiving only whimpering nods in return. “Ask.” 

“P-Please, please let me come, I can’t–” you gasped, squeezing your eyes shut as your teeth clenched together hard enough to make your jaw pop. You teetered on the brink of oblivion, waiting only on Ominis’ say-so to fall over the edge which seemed to loom so, so close. 

“Beg,” Ominis rasped thickly, his fingers tightening and digging into the skin of your hips as he bucked harder against your ass. “Beg for it– beg for me to let you come.” 

You couldn’t even find the brainpower to realize he was demanding to hear you say it to fuel his unrepentant hold on you. The taunting, the pleasure laced brutality– it was all to assuage the bitter anger that had coursed through his veins upon hearing his family refer to you as tradeable cattle. Later on, he would be collected enough to reassure you that you were your own person, free to make your own decisions and go wherever your heart desired. 

Right now though, his baser urges had won out, and he needed to hear you say it. 

Your head slammed into the pillows as your back arched off the mattress, doing your best to shut out the mounting pleasure that threatened to break through your crumbling resolve. “Please, Ominis! Please let me–” you hiccuped around another gasp, the ache in your gut bordering on unbearable. “L-Let me… let me…”

One of his hands released your waist to feel up your torso and curl around the back of your neck, lifting your head off of the pillow so your eyes were on him as he uttered five words that struck something deep inside of you. 

“Then come for me, love.” 

Your breaking point smacked into you hard and fast, leaving you equally breathless and brainless as your mouth fell open around a long, drawn out cry of Ominis’ name. Your climax ripped through you ferociously, your vision flashing white and your muscles tensing for a moment of near perfect silence as your lover continued to thrust in and out of you with unwavering focus. Even after you’d collapsed back against the sheets and gone limp in his arms, Ominis continued to chase his own finish, balancing precariously over you on his elbows and burying his face in the crook of your neck to muffle the shaky groans he failed to bite back. 

Maybe you were imagining it, but you could have sworn he continued to murmur quiet declarations against your skin that sounded a lot like, “Mine.” 

Before long, Ominis was following you over the edge with a throaty purr that slithered out of his throat. His arms trembled on either side of your head, his hands gathering fistfuls of the pillows as he buried himself completely inside of you with one final plunge of his hips. You heard the blond moan hoarsely in your ear as he spilled into you, grinding against your ass to milk every last drop of his seed from his twitching member, and when he mouthed wetly against the sweat-slick column of throat before biting down, all you could focus on was the warmth that filled you as you quivered under him. 

After a few moments of the two of you panting softly, you lifted your hands to Ominis’ clothed back in a bid to usher him to the side. He tensed, however, and you paused as he wedged one of his arms under your back to hold you flush to him as he continued to re-center himself. “Not yet,” you heard him grumble into the hollow of your throat. “Not yet… give me a second.” 

“…Alright,” you relented quickly, only mildly concerned as you wrapped your arms around his slender shoulders. With your fingers tracing lazy shapes against his clothed back, you allowed yourself to enjoy the feeling of Ominis’ weight pressing down on you, his gentle exhales fanning against your clammy skin, and the steady rhythm of his heart beating against your sternum. 

Given the severity of what had happened at his family’s house, you weren’t sure the two of you would ever get another moment like this again. So, you held on tightly to him in the hopes that the night would last just a little bit longer. 

The two of you stayed like that for what seemed like hours but realistically could only have been a few minutes, and shortly after Ominis began peppering kisses up your throat and along your jaw, your eyes drifted shut as you dozed off once more. When you woke the following morning and found yourself tucked in beneath the sheets, you propped yourself up on your elbow to glance around the otherwise empty room, noting immediately that Ominis was nowhere to be found. 

In a panicked flurry of movement, you threw off the blankets and were still tying your robe around your waist as you hurriedly shuffled down the hallway. Your dread was smothered in the next instant by overwhelming ease as you rounded the corner to find Ominis in the kitchen, gripping the countertop and working a muscle in his jaw while he hovered his wand over a letter that looked eerily similar to the one he’d received just a day ago. 

Even though he could hear you approaching, he said nothing as you padded across the room to stand behind him, coiling your arms around his waist to press your front against his back. A shaky sigh escaped him, and you stared at the wall as you contemplated your words before deciding on, “What are you reading?” 

A pause, “A formal summons for you, inviting you to meet my family officially.” 

Your heart fell into your stomach, arms tightening around the taller man a fraction as you pursed your lips in blatant distaste. “We won’t go,” you announced, and Ominis shifted in your embrace so he could wrap his arms around you to hug you back with a firmness that spoke volumes of his agreement. 

“We won’t,” he said. “But we can’t stay here, either. Not anymore.” 

“I know.” 

He buried his chin in the mess of hair atop your head, shamelessly inhaling your scent before he told you, “We have to leave– go somewhere far away– and we can’t tell anyone.” 

“I know.” 

The way his nimble fingers gripped the back of your robe told you of just how conflicted he was to ask this of you– to uproot your shared lives here to flee the meddling of his family. His voice was laced with remorse as he asked, “And you’re okay with that? Truly?”

“I am,” and you really were. There wasn’t a lick of hesitation in your voice– not a shred of apprehension hidden in your tone at the prospect of packing up and running as far from here as humanly possible. “So long as we’re together, I am.” 

Ominis skimmed his hands up your back to cup your cheeks, angling your head up at him so he could kiss you fully, and you returned the gesture with equal fervor. As long as he was with you, you knew you could do anything. With Ominis by your side, you would fight tooth and nail against every hellish creature or person in existence to ensure your future together. 

Wherever the two of you ended up, you already knew that your home wouldn’t just be some place. It would always be him.

[tetheredfeathers]

Beach scene.

"I do," I say. "I need you." He looks upset, takes a deep breath as if to begin a long argument, and that's no good, no good at all, because he'll start going on about Prim and my mother and everything and I'll just get confused. So before he can talk, I stop his lips with a kiss.

I feel that thing again. The thing I only felt once before. In the cave last year, when I was trying to get Haymitch to send us food. I kissed Peeta about a thousand times during those Games and after. But there was only one kiss that made me feel something stir deep inside. Only one that made me want more. But my head wound started bleeding and he made me lie down. This time, there is nothing but us to interrupt us.

My hands cup either side of his face, his stubble feels rough against my smooth hands. My cold lips envelop his impossibly warm ones, my hands make their way around the nape of his neck, and a sudden desire to pull on his golden curls overtakes me. A certain urgency invades my senses. I lose comprehension of reality and the gravity of the situation we are in.

His hands come around my shoulders to caress me, I think, until he pushes me away. My face surges with embarrassment. In what world would Peeta refuse my kisses? Is he out of his mind?

"Katn-iss, lo-ve, listen," he attempts to speak as I slither my hands down his waist, lifting the hem of his undershirt. "Yo-u're the one w-ho should—"

My heart races as his swollen lips form the word "love." Is he saying this for the audience, or does he really want to call me love? I am his love, aren't I? I think of a world where Peeta would come home from work every day and say, "Love, I'm home." Oh, how I would long for him all day, both our faces lighting up brighter than every star collected as we make our way to each other.

"Don't 'love' me," I spit, fuming at his selflessness. How dare he try to sacrifice himself for me? How dare he think I could survive one day on this earth without him? How dare he not realize how much I need him? My body heaves with anger and passion, lighting an ethereal flame as I engulf his lips once again. I lose all restraint, one hand aggressively tugging at his blonde locks and the other swiftly removing his shirt. I absorb his words with my mouth, sliding my tongue across his upper lip. A breathy sigh escapes from his mouth, sending shooting stars into my head. He finally gives in and unlatches his lips, allowing my tongue to enter. His tongue is no competition for mine; I push him over and explore his mouth with unearthly desire.

In the caressing silence that follows, I find myself on top of him, straddling his lap. I grind my hips against him, breathing out his name as I feel his arousal against my core. His burning chest heaves harder against me as he peppers my neck with kisses, working his way to my ear. Overwhelmed with desire to become one with him, every inch of my body buzzes with electricity. A peculiar place in my body pulsates with energy, only slightly relieved when my hips grind against him. I want every inch of his body enveloping mine, covering me and holding me ever so tightly.

The rough pads of his fingers brush ever so slightly against my breasts, making me arch my back against him. He smirks mischievously against my collarbone, proud of the reaction he is able to elicit just through a slight brush. Oh two can plan the game, Mellark. Just you wait.

I glide my nails over his back, finally resting my hands on his hips, pulling him ardently against that spot that's begging for relief. His hips buck aginst mine as my mouth lays wet, open mouthed kisses all over his golden neck; Our moans chorus through the dead of the night as the breeze envelops our tangled silhouettes.

His stocky build flushes against my soft curves, reminding me of all those nights on the train. Why hadn't I tried this sooner? Why hadn't I realized that he is the only boy I really need? Why hadn't I understood that I physically cannot survive without him?

What if this could be it? What if one day I could take Peeta to the meadow behind my old house with miniature versions of ourselves? A small girl with black hair, blue eyes, and a little boy with blonde hair, grey eyes. Somehow under the hot, pink sky and the gritty sand digging underneath our feet, I imagine a world where my beautiful my boy with the bread could be a father.

The sensation inside me grows warmer and spreads out from my chest, down through my body, out along my arms and legs, to the tips of my being. Instead of satisfying me, the kisses have the opposite effect, of making my need greater. I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind.

It's the first crack of the lightning storm - the bolt hitting the tree at midnight - that brings us to our senses. It rouses Finnick as well. He sits up with a sharp cry. I see his fingers digging into the sand as he reassures himself that whatever nightmare he inhabited wasn't real.

[cinnaminsvga]

Harana Preview | Jungkook

harana (n.): the act of wooing someone by serenading them

→ summary:

Unwilling to settle down with you after five years of dating, Jeon Jungkook decides to break up to chase after his dreams. In the aftermath, you leave your hometown, desperate to forget your past and relearn what it means to be on your own. Two years later while on your way to work, you pass by a familiar voice singing songs about a girl he had left behind.

{or alternatively: Jungkook still sings the love songs that he wrote for you. He still means them, too.}

→ genre: busker!au, exes to lovers, fluff, angst → warnings: jimin is insane and kinda crude (he has some issues going on), jungkook is a pathetic wet bunny but he's trying his best, so much yearning, ambiguous ending??? but my god there is hope!! the humanity of it all!! → words: anticipated 10-15K → a/n: what da hell who is she... HEY SO its been a while since ive written anything longer than 2k words and i really wanted to get back into writing, if only for practice... plus this is part of my heart full of hugot series that i teased literally eons ago and i want to finish it before the year ends... pray for my sanity ( ; ω ; )

part of the “heart full of hugot” series

As you struggle to pull yourself together, a familiarly loud voice rings outside the edge of your consciousness. “Hey, Y/N! Fancy seeing you here…” Jimin greets you, his usual jovial demeanor halting midway when he sees your panicked expression. He clears his throat, perplexed. “Umm… Are you alright there, girl? You’re looking a little pale.”

You do not even have the mental capacity to wonder why Park Jimin was miraculously early to his shift, nor why he seems genuinely worried for you. Rather, all you can do is wave him off and use what little time you have before the restaurant opens to steel yourself for hours of melodious torture. 

“I’m fine, Park. You should get to work,” you grit out, wiping your sweaty palms on your uniform. Normally, Jimin would have teased you about the obvious wrinkles on your skirt. 

“You’re not the boss of me,” Jimin huffs, always the contrarian. He thinks better of it, however, and softens his tone. “Are you feeling sick or something? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

You freeze, perhaps giving yourself away a little. “I’m fine,” you repeat. 

“You know, if you refuse to elaborate, I’m going to have to retract your shower privileges,” Jimin taunts with a smirk. 

You feel a migraine growing by your temple, making you wince. God, why must men be the source of all your problems?

“I’m just… a little annoyed by the busker outside the restaurant,” you eventually admit, trying to be vague. Unfortunately for you, Jimin hates beating around the bush and would never take your crap if he knows something is up.

Unable to withstand the weight of his unimpressed stare, you continue, “He was someone I used to know, that’s all.” You aren’t going to be any more specific than that, though you imagine Jimin gets the picture. You zip your lips, hoping to whoever is causing you pain that Jimin would somehow let the matter drop and leave you to your misery.

You brace yourself for his onslaught of questioning to come, and… it doesn’t happen. Instead, when you glance at Jimin, he is mysteriously stone faced. You wait for him to speak for what feels like a few minutes, but he doesn’t show any signs of wanting to tease or ridicule you. He simply watches you with a pensive expression. You can barely stop yourself from staring back at him, slack-jawed at his silence. 

Of course, you aren’t just going to question your luck, or what little you have at least. So, you stay silent back and purse your lips uncomfortably.

Finally, Jimin seems to snap out of his strange reverie. He fixes you with a bizarrely sympathetic grin, patting you affectionately on the back. “I see… Well, if you ever need a drink tonight, head over to the bar for a little sip. I got you covered,” is all he says in response before sashaying away. 

That was so fucking weird. You want to chase after him, perhaps beat the truth out of him. Jimin is nothing but a scheming dick, and you aren’t about to let him roam free with such sensitive information about yourself. Just as you’re about to stomp his ass (perhaps to relieve some of the building tension from your weary soul), your manager pops his head from his office door. 

“Y/N! Make sure you’re logged into the booking system. There’s going to be a party of 20 coming in about an hour,” he reminds you, shooting you an apologetic look. You nod back with a sigh, swiping the booking tablet from the hostess desk and scrolling through the logs. Sure enough, it is going to be a busy night despite being a Monday evening. Perhaps a little busier than usual, in fact.

Whatever. You will use whatever distraction you can get, and perhaps the approaching noise from the restaurant patrons will be enough to drown out the sound of his voice. 

You aren’t religious by any means, but you pray to whatever higher power exists that Jeon Jungkook doesn’t somehow decide to enter the restaurant. Stay outside, you plead. Outside the restaurant and your life, if possible.

Throughout the evening, you do your best to push aside the memories that threaten to resurface. You greet customers with a smile, lead them to their tables, and ensure their dining experience is pleasant despite the anxiety poisoning your insides. It's a routine you've perfected over time, a shield against the chaos of your emotions.

As the night wears on, you can feel Jimin's eyes on you from across the restaurant. You sneak glances back at him, and you blanch at his pitying gaze. If the restaurant had been slightly less crowded, you would have flipped him off. 

He’s probably enjoying my suffering, you think darkly. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction, you straighten up and do your best to appear more unaffected. Just as you do so, you can hear Jungkook perfectly hitting a soulful high note. 

“I’m so sorry for thinking I was strong,” you whisper to the universe. “Forgive me for my insolence.” You clench your fist in anguish, ignoring the confused looks from the customers in front of you. 

By the time your shift comes to a close, you are completely and utterly drained. You feel like a snail that has been continuously salted over the past eight hours, and you cannot help but cheer in relief when the clock finally strikes two in the morning. You have to wait for the last few diners to make their leave, but otherwise you are ready to let your bed swallow you whole. 

You stand by your hostess desk, leaning your head against it with a defeated sigh. Jungkook’s voice had died down only a few minutes ago, and you hope that by this point he has mercifully left the premises. You want to take a peek to make sure, but just as you’re about to make your way to the door, you feel a hand on your shoulder stop you in your tracks.

“‘Sup, bitch.” Jimin still has that weird, pitying gaze pointed at you, though his words don’t match it. “Are you okay to go home alone tonight? I can bring your dumb ass home if you want.”

You shove his hand away, ready to bite his head off when you think better of it. If Jimin drives you home, then that lowers the chances of seeing Jungkook down to pretty much zero. 

“You know what? Thanks,” you grouse. Jimin smiles at you winningly, and the image of it brings a shiver down your spine. You hit him, creeped out. “Hey. Stop that, will you? You’re being really weird?”

Jimin scoffs, crossing his arms. “Me? Weird? At least I don’t look like a damn firework ready to explode just because my cringelord ex-boyfriend is singing sappy love songs outside—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you seethe, stomping on his foot. He yelps in pain and slaps your shoulder in retaliation. 

“Ouch! Watch your ogre feet! My shoes are worth twice your monthly rent I’ll have you know,” he bristles. He breathes deeply, likely finding his inner calm (which you doubt exists). “But because I’m so nice, I’ll ignore your earlier transgression and blame it on your underdeveloped amygdala.”

You don’t know what’s more surprising: the fact that Jimin knew what an amygdala was or that he was forgiving you in the first place. “Whatever. Let’s finish closing up and then head out. I’m exhausted.”

[sylverstorms]

Daniela x Maiden ---- Hunted Ch.10

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9

As the fading sunlight casts its amber glow upon the towering spires of Castle Dimitrescu, an air of anticipation swirls within its ancient halls.

Because duchess Alcina is going away for a few days on a business trip. And that leaves her daughters in charge of the castle and its inhabitants. Naturally… 

Nobody can tell if that’s a good or a bad thing. 

The staff is divided. One one hand, the consensus among maids and cooks alike is that Bela will have the general command and things will run more or less the same as they do with her mother. On the other… Bela’s word ranges from meaning little to meaning jack when it comes to her sisters. And that’s where the first domino threatens to fall and take all others with it. 

The fact Alexia didn’t meet your eyes when you asked her what to expect for the following days is something you choose not to think about. 

You are lighting the candles in one corner of the main hall when you hear the telltale thunderous steps of the Lady descend the grand staircase, followed by her daughters. You tense a little, your breath growing a tad uneven, but you continue your task diligently, a safe distance from the massive doorway not to be noticed. You catch a few of the things they say, like Alcina’s instructions on how to answer the phone if Miranda calls and what temperature the wine cellar should be kept at. 

“Cassandra, Daniela, I need not remind you that we are understaffed.” she emphasizes. “I do not want to see that the maids’ number has dropped in my absence.” 

“Yes, mother.” they nod in unison, with one looking like she’s agreeing for the sake of getting this over with and the other gazing up at the statuesque woman like a puppy. A puppy straight out of the most chaotic pit of hell. 

“Bela, I want you to personally supervise the shipment from Duke tomorrow.” she continues, adjusting the chic fur cloak around her massive form. 

“Don’t worry, mother. I will see to it that everything is in order.” the blonde replies. 

You watch as Alcina’s key is slid into the lock and the heavy gates are opened with a mere light push of her gloved hands. Then, she turns to cast one last fond look upon her daughters. Despite all the oddities of this family, the things you know about them and how they came to be… this simple gesture gets to you. It hits your most vulnerable cord and the image gets burned into your brain. You will never unsee this. 

“Safe travels.” Bela bids. 

“We’ll miss you!” Daniela exclaims. It’s sweet, save for the fact that is not the tune she was singing yesterday, when she was jumping on her bed –and on you– going ‘yeeesssss, bless these business trips!’

The doors close behind Lady Dimitrescu. 

You count exactly five beats that pass in silence. 

“Slow and steady wins the race, mother!” Cassandra is the first to break character.

“Don’t worry about aaaanything~” Daniela sing-songs and at this point you have to feel at least a little sorry for Bela. 

Then you remind yourself the asshole stopped your escape and nearly broke your back on a table not that long ago. Every bit of suffering she endures from her sisters these days is a well-deserved slap straight from karma. You’re already feeling the score being settled as they giggle and cackle around her and all she can do is control her breathing and bring two fingers to the bridge of her nose. 

You shake your head and go about lighting the rest of the candles around. 

Or, more accurately, you try to. 

Because a wild buzzing later, you find yourself knocked forward as a familiar weight crashes onto your back. Daniela’s arms wrap around your neck and she practically demands a piggyback ride, painted lips hovering by your ear;

“How are you doing, Knight~?” 

Yeah, you sigh. It’s going to be a rough couple of days…  

–

–

On the second day, your early-evening nap is interrupted by a maid nearly breaking down your door to tell you the daughters summon you to the armory, asap. You actually have to ask for instructions as to where that even is, and your muscles grow more and more tense along the way. 

The door is left open, as if whoever is inside is waiting for you. Swallowing past the lump in your throat, you strain your ears to get an idea of what is happening on the other side, until you hear the distinct sound of Rhiannon’s and Daniela’s voices. Releasing the breath you weren’t aware you had been holding the entire walk to the armory, you rap your knuckles against the open door just to be polite, then step past the threshold. 

Alexia and Rhiannon are the first ones to catch your eye, standing next to Bela and Daniela respectively, while Cassandra examines the weapons mounted on the wall. You note that the sisters are dressed in their heavy winter gear, complete with scarfs and everything. Then you glance at the practical clothes the other humans in the room are wearing. 

“Um. Are we… going to war?” you squint. 

“I wish.” Cassandra huffs from the weapon racks. 

“We’re going hunting.” Alexia replies. 

“Who’s ‘we’?” your eyes widen, because you have a very bad feeling this includes you and– 

“We.” Daniela beams at you, gesturing around with her finger. “The temperature is at ten degrees tonight!”

“Nine.” Bela corrects under her breath. 

“Which is practically ten.” the redhead rolls her eyes dramatically. 

“Think fast.” Cassandra interjects, throwing you a hunting spear so fast you basically stop it from knocking you down rather than actually catch it mid-air. Your breathing quickens again. You just can’t catch a break with this family. 

She goes far easier on Rhiannon when she sends a crossbow and bolts her way. Lastly, she personally walks over to Alexia and hands her a leg sheath filled with throwing knives. The hazel-eyed beauty fastens them on like she’s done this a couple of times before. All the weapons are in excellent condition, sharpened and lethal.

“Alright, listen up.” the brunette begins, as if a captain emphasizing key mission points to her squad. “We will be traveling together at first, but we are still split into three teams. Our prey is a mutated coyote. You’ll know it when you see it by its crimson fur and two heads.” she explains. “My sisters and I can only chase it and hoard it to openings for you to kill, but we can’t land the final blow ourselves. That would be too easy. Your weapons have been selected based on your hunting experience to even the odds. Whoever’s girlfriend gets the kill wins and the victor picks our meals until mother returns.” 

“Whatever you do, don’t let Daniela win.” Bela huffs under her breath, as if to herself. 

“Hey, I heard that!” the youngest growls.

“Question; what happens if we don’t want to kill an innocent animal?” Rhiannon asks. 

“We knew you’d say that, so we picked this coyote for a reason. So far, it has killed over a dozen sheep!” Daniela says this like it’s a tragedy. Then, she carelessly adds “Oh, and one villager. Or was it a tourist…?” 

Rhiannon nods. “Sympathy is now depleted. We can go.”

You test the spear’s weight in your hand. Its balance is great, yet it’s also one of the heavier ones and sure as hell won’t be easy to throw. You’re used to hunting with a recurve bow, so this thing is definitely going to be a challenge for you. Alexia still has the hardest projectile to land, but you suppose she must have some experience, on top of being paired with the huntress of the family. 

“Is there any chance that thing, like… attacks us?” Rhiannon asks Bela, who smirks. 

“Try not to think about it.” she speaks, but her eyes say something closer to ‘don’t worry, I won’t let anything harm you’.

“If push comes to shove, I’ll just let Knight rescue me.” Daniela smiles dreamily. You really want to argue that it should be the other way around.

“Oh, God. How do I get into team Cassandra…?” you joke. 

“Seren!” the redhead gasps, slapping your arm lightly. 

“I like her!” the brunette laughs, ever at the expense of her sister. 

What a crazy family, you muse, watching them interact. Whatever higher power paired the people in this castle together… it had a deep sense of humor for sure. 

With a fond shake of your head, you exit the castle behind them.

–

–

The skies are filled with clouds tonight. Moonlight comes and goes in soft waves, washing over the forest cradling the village one moment and vanishing soon after. 

The remnants of winter's grip linger, with patches of snow clinging desperately to the forest floor like white freckles. A canopy of trees spans far and wide before you that seems to come alive with whispers and shadows. Being here would petrify you, if you were alone. 

But you’re not alone. You’re surrounded by the giggles and comments of the most problematic group that’s ever grown on you in your entire life. Unfortunately, you happen to be their subject of interest at this particular time. 

“Honestly, Seren, I have to hand it to you. I never thought you’d be alive under Dani’s care for more than a week.” Bela comments. 

“‘Under’ Dani’s care.” Cassandra snickers, earning a growling glare from her younger sibling. You have to admit, the brunette contests with Bela for who can be the biggest bitch at times, but you are starting to see the sexy in that. 

“I can keep my teeth out of a human if I choose to, you jerk!” the redhead snaps. 

“No, I mean it’s a wonder she hasn’t offed herself after dealing with you for more than a month.” Bela’s lip twitches upwards, as if she’s trying –and failing– to keep a straight face.

“She tried, remember? You stopped her.” Cassandra adds more fuel to the fire. 

“I definitely remember.” you interject, eyeing Bela. 

“What? I was careful not to break any of your bones.” she says. 

“Oh, that was you being careful…” you grimace.

“In all honesty, if you’re here still that means she probably was.” Rhiannon adds. 

“You didn’t feel what I felt, Rhiannon.” you shake your head. 

“Unfortunately.” she and Alexia both say simultaneously. 

You roll your eyes at them, full circle. “Maybe it sounds good on paper but there’s no way you guys would have enjoyed that.”

“You don’t know Alexia very well.” Cassandra chuckles. 

The barrage of comments continues, shifting back to bullying Daniela. The sisters push and prod at each other like lion cubs, until they end up a few ways ahead of you, three dark silhouettes atop the hill your calf muscles are protesting to climb. Life must be a lot easier when you have superhuman stamina and levitate. You think. 

Bela turns around and flashes to Rhiannon’s side to help her up, but Daniela and Cassandra are too busy throwing remarks at each other’s face to care about Alexia and you. 

The spear in your hand feels weightier now than it did before. You stop for a moment to glance at the distance you’ve covered over your shoulder… and that is when a thought strikes you. 

If I were to start running now… could I escape?

Do I even have a chance...?

You have a map of the city and its underbelly in your mind thanks to Daniela. You will no longer be running blindly. Within seconds, an entire plan forms at the forefront of your mind. With a little luck, it’s doable. You know the Dimitrescus’ shared weakness now and you know of the nitrogen conducts leading to the factory from beneath the ground. Your eyes fall to the weapon in your hand. It’s both heavy and sturdy enough to pierce through. 

All you have to do… is use Daniela’s greatest vulnerability against her. All you have to do is show her how right she was to have zero faith in humanity. 

Your fingers have gone white around the hunting spear. 

Until Alexia’s hand comes to rest over one of your own. Torn, you look into her eyes for guidance and see her subtly shaking her head no. But she doesn’t know what it means for all of you if you stay. 

You don’t have long now. The melting snow all around you is a painful reminder of that. 

“Babe, hurry it up!” Cassandra’s voice calls from atop the hill. With one last lingering look, Alexia takes a step back from you, continuing her hike. 

Seconds pass –or perhaps minutes– pass, yet you feel frozen in time. A faint buzzing is what brings you back to reality, and by the time you turn around, Daniela is landing soundlessly a few steps ahead of you. Her bi-tone eyes fix on yours for a tense moment. 

“Knight? …All good?” she asks before she extends a hand towards you.

“Yeah.” you lie with a smile as you take it. 

–

–

For the rest of the trudge through the forest, you feel numb. 

The conversation around you flies right over your head and you only actively take part in it when you absolutely have to, in order to upkeep the pretense that everything is fine. But you’re not fine. 

You didn’t run when you had the chance to. You just let it go. 

An older you wouldn’t have missed the opportunity, no matter how slim it may have looked. But the fact remains; you hesitated. Your heart wasn’t in tune with your brain, not even close. And that disparity is what gets to you the most. Because above all the reasons why you need to go, why you want to leave, at the forefront of your mind was… 

Her.

Suddenly, the Dimitrescus bristle like panthers catching the scent of blood. Sniffing the air, you see their eyes shift into a darker, primal gold. Daniela, eager and impulsive, smirks and makes to dash forward, but her sisters’ hands descending on either shoulder grab her and nail her feet to the ground before she takes off. 

“One by one. Wait your turn.” Bela reminds her, voice deep with authority. Then she grabs Rhiannon’s hand and vanishes into the darkness first. 

The other two are barely holding themselves back from going in, but, albeit seething with anticipation, they do wait for the first pair’s attempt. In calculated grace, the blonde leaves her partner at a vantage point and half-slides, half-flies down the slope, forcing the coyote to back, growling, into a moonlit patch of the uneven ground. 

Rhiannon aims… and takes her shot. 

The arrowhead flies well over a meter above the beast’s two heads, embedding itself into a tree bark. The redhead struggles to pull back the string to reload, while Bela flashes behind the coyote so it doesn’t escape. The second shot is much closer, but the creature twists to the side with uncanny agility. It’s a good thing Bela does the same.

“Nice one! That almost killed Bela!” Daniela cackles.

The prey manages to slip away into the woods and Cassandra’s seizes the opportunity to pursue. You hear only a sharp “Let’s go!” and watch as she leaps high into the trees while Alexia runs after her. 

Their paths split for a moment, long enough for one to obscure herself while the other lands powerfully in front of the creature, freezing it in its tracks. The spot isn’t as ideal as Bela made it out to be light-wise, but Alexia’s coordination with Cassandra is something to marvel at. It only takes her a split second to jump out of her hiding position, casting a knife at the coyote’s neck. Unfortunately, the beast lowers itself the slightest fraction in the nick of time and the knife grazes its ear instead. 

Black blood drips onto the soil.

A powerful, enraged roar escapes the beast, at a volume that leaves you stunned in your spot.    

Daniela, however, grabs your hand and zooms towards the next opening. If you had eaten dinner, you’re certain it wouldn’t be sitting in your stomach for much longer. 

Still, you shake yourself out of the daze and take control of the adrenaline, calculating the weight of the spear versus your own strength. Without warning, the redhead lets go of you and you immediately duck into a roll to recover from the shift in momentum. The second you’re back on your feet you draw back the spear and aim, waiting for her to back the feral animal to a place you can see. It’s not as easy as it was with her sisters. The thing is now wild from being wounded, twisting about in erratic motions. 

Hold steady. You remember what your father taught you as a little girl, when he took you to your first hunting trip. Hold your breath as you line your throw… and..

The coyote jumps towards her, foaming jaws snapping. You feel something inside you click. 

The next second, your spear cuts through the air, straight into the animal’s neck. 

Its end is instant. Soundless. No twitching, not even a whimper. Its terrifying body simply collapses onto the dirt like no more than a ragdoll and you’re left there, staring, with your heart pounding in your ears, your muscles shaking. 

Something so horrific, so deadly, felled by a single spear. Felled by you. 

What an empowering thought. Suddenly, endorphins rush you and you’re lighter than you’ve been all night. You’re grinning when Daniela beams at you and leaps all over the place like an overexcited bunny, flies buzzing in every direction, poking fun at the sour expressions her siblings are wearing. 

“Ha! Bow down in the face of superiority, you two!” she points. 

“Don’t you mean the face of stupidity?” Bela crosses her arms. 

“What was that?!” Cassandra snaps at Alexia, smacking her arm in a slap that may as well be a caress with how she measures her strength. “Getting its ear like that, were you trying to pet it from a distance?!”   

“I couldn’t see shit back there!” the other woman says while rubbing her bicep. exasperated. 

“Thank you, thank you Seren! We’re having liver for the next few days~” Daniela laughs in a way that lights up her entire face, gluing herself to your side. 

For some strange reason, although you’ve done so much more than this together, the act makes your cheeks redden. You stare at her pretty face for a brief moment and realize that her joy is infectious. Her dimples and cleft chin and her mannerisms in general… she’s probably the cutest redhead in Romania. 

Meanwhile, Bela and Cassandra share a look and a miserable sigh. 

–

–

In the early hours of the morning, you’re in Daniela’s bed, keeping her company –and keeping the bed warm– until she falls asleep. The temperature wasn’t low enough to hurt her tonight, but the humidity has crept under her skin, bringing a certain level of discomfort it always takes her a while to completely shake off.

She’s nestled against you, hugging a monster teddy to her chest, her chin resting atop its head as she reads the novel lying on your lap atop the covers. You glance down upon it a few times, cautious of its contents. Thankfully, the scenes you happen to skim through are all suspense and romantic undertones. No smut. Yet. 

Then she turns the page to the next chapter, titled; Soulmates.

The word catches your eye. It seems to hold her attention, as well, and she draws in a small, unnecessary breath. 

“What a concept, no? Two people ideally suited to one another. Meant to be.” Daniela comments in a low voice. She seems the type of soul to be enamored by the idea, but the way she spoke the words, her aura in this moment… there is a certain weight to it all. 

“I don’t know if I believe it.” But it’s much more accurate to say you don’t know if you want to. Because being your soulmate… doesn’t that automatically condemn another person to a lifetime of hurt?

“I didn’t know if I did, either. Until I saw Cassandra and Alexia together.” she replies. “There’s no other person in this world that could match my sister like she does. She just gets her, in a way not even Bela and I can, at times.” 

You can’t argue with that. You’ve seen them, around the castle and especially earlier, how seamlessly they flow. Two seemingly polar opposites that connect like magnets. 

“And it was instantaneous, too. Before Alexia was brought to the castle, Cassandra and I saw her at the village, on our way back from a hunt. I think she was chopping wood for her house or something. My sister stared for half a minute. I never saw her look that way at a human before.” she reminisces. 

“And Bela?” you ask. 

“Bela is different. Thinks differently, functions differently. No amount of beauty would ever spark her interest and make her show favoritism.” Daniela explains. “The first time she heard Rhiannon sing to the wounded in the dungeons, she told Cassandra and I not to touch the ‘songbird’, though still, it was more along the lines of owning a pet than anything else.” she says. “But the way Rhiannon protected her family later on, it shattered Bela’s defenses. She was forced to see her then and everything else was a slippery slope from there.”

Through impossible circumstances, it seems her siblings really did find their perfect matches. Hearing of how their stories unfolded, you begin to think that maybe the notion of soulmates isn’t quite so farfetched, after all. Which inadvertently makes you wonder about Daniela and yourself. 

You are aware that in almost a hundred years she hasn’t felt genuine attraction towards anyone, no matter how she may have wished to experience it. She has been open about finally feeling that spark with you, and the way her body reacts to you can’t lie, but you don’t know if there’s anything deeper than that for her. 

And you’re alarmed by the fact you want to know.

Your heart beats quicker and you’re certain she can hear it. The pages of the book in your lap aren’t turning anymore, but her eyes are still focused on it. You wonder what she’s thinking, what world she’s lost in inside her head and what your place there is, if one exists at all. 

You wonder if she considers the two of you soulmates. Fated. 

“What about us?” you question, unable to bear the weight of leaving the question unasked. Still, you voice it as casually as possible, not wanting to add to the tension already building in the air. 

Daniela shifts slightly against you. “It’s scary to define us.” she speaks lightly, but the emotion locked behind the words is anything but. 

“Why?” But you already know the answer; It’s because of you. 

“Because whatever word comes to mind… may only be true for me.” she replies and you can’t explain why it’s like a stab to the gut. 

Daniela is extremely perceptive. When she saw you hesitate tonight, you have no doubt she saw your thoughts written all over your eyes. In fact, you’re sure she has always been aware of your pressing need to leave, your plans and calculations on how to, even if the real reason why eludes her. Yet she still took you on tours around the village when you asked. She showed you all the escape routes, walked you right over the nitrogen pipelines despite knowing they could one day be used against her.  

Now it’s clear to you why.

“And if I finally settle on ‘love’...” she says, voice low, “I’ll have to hold the door open for you.”

[wantonlywindswept]

👀

<3

post-order 66 identity fuckery au because vader decides he misses rex. he can't have rex, but he does have that clone who rex always spoke of with grudging fondness and who cody often compared rex's personality to and--

that's close enough, right?

---

CC-1010 doesn't know why he says it, probably due to his impending death, but he's gotten Vader's attention off of the troopers that fired on him and solely focused on him, and he can march on entirely happy with that.

So maybe something in his brain misfires, because he feels Vader's invisible grip around his throat and something angry and petty and cruel rears up in him and he spits,

"He would be fucking ashamed of you."

And 1010 doesn't. Actually know exactly who he's talking about? Entirely? But he knows it hits because Vader freezes and then Vader roars, and instead of being choked to death or his neck snapped or his head separated from his body, 1010 hits the wall again and again and again and--

1010 wakes up.

He's a little surprised.

He doesn't entirely remember why he's surprised.

He doesn't...remember a lot, actually. 

But he wakes up, and he's in a set of officer's quarters (seems right), with the hum of machinery telling him he's on a starship (seems wrong). His throat's as dry as Geonosian dust but when he stumbles blearily into the fresher to get a drink, a jolt of electricity zips up his spine when he catches sight of himself in the mirror. 

(Wrong wrong wrong wrong--)

1010 runs a palm over his light-colored hair with a frown. The ends are short and prickly, like he'd only just buzzed it. It matches with his face--mostly unscarred, devoid of any tattoos--and it looks familiar, but the perspective seems off, somehow, like the angle of viewing is wrong (wrong wrong wrong). 

But 1010 just shrugs, and turns on the water to drink straight from the tap. He's pretty sure that he's used to everything being Wrong.

He's wiping his mouth on a towel when the door of his quarters opens--

catches sight of black armor and feels fear anger terror hate fear fear fear

--and steps out of the fresher to snap to attention, adrenaline kicking through his veins.

"Sir," he salutes crisply.

Darth Vader watches him, silently. Tilts his death's head like a hunting bird eyeing its prey. 

"At ease, Captain."

1010 blinks.

He's pretty sure he was a commander. Was he demoted?

But now that he thinks about it, he can't really remember his last posting. He knows that he was in charge of other clones, in a position to give orders, and that was well within the duties of a Captain. 

Besides, it's not like Darth Vader could be wrong.

"Are you well enough for duty?" Vader asks. He gestures toward the armor rack in the corner, which holds a set of plastoid lined in royal blue. The colors and markings are familiar enough, even if 1010 thinks it would look better in red.

1010 mentally checks himself over: besides the lingering feeling of Wrongness, his body is entirely free of pain. It seems novel, for some reason. 

"Yessir."

"That's good, Rex," Vader says, voice oddly cautious. "Get geared up, and we'll go to the command deck."

Rex, 1010 thinks. He recognizes the name, fondness curling in his chest at the sound of it. It's a good name. 

Rex nods easily, which makes Vader relax.

He crosses over to his armor and pulls the jaig-eyes helmet over his head.

[iamthecomet]

Comet, it's cold outside this morning and I woke up with thoughts!

It’s winter and freezing outside. Probably around 4:30 AM. Dew has to pee so he carefully unwraps himself from the tangle that is Aeon and slithers out from under the warm down comforter into the chilled room. The stone floor is so cold on his feet, he tiptoes to the bathroom in the darkness to take a leak, making sure that his tail doesn’t touch the floor as well.

He makes his way back to bed and tries to shuffle back in without bouncing the bed too much so he doesn’t wake up Aeon. He snuggles in, siding his back against Aeon when suddenly he’s gripped and pulled tight to the quint’s chest. One arm around his chest, the other on his lower belly and - oh - traveling down and palming at him.

Oh

And now there’s hot breath into the nape of his neck, a whine and a lick at his earlobe as Aeon presses Dew’s hips back against his own…and Aeon’s hard. And now Dew is too. And Dew’s cold feet are interlocking with Aeon’s warm ones, tails are tangling and nobody is sleeping anymore!

Happy Sunday!

Gremlin

It's Tuesday now but that's just because me and my frozen feet have been thinking about this for days.

Aeon sleepily nuzzles his face into Dew's neck. Purrs. Nipping along the side of his throat, fangs grazing the sharp line of Dew's jaw. And Dew's rocking his hips into Aeon's hand, pressing back against where Aeon is hard, slotted in Dew's asscrack even with the layers of clothes between them. "You left," Aeon whispers. "Had to take a leak," Dew supplies. Grinding his ass back against Aeon until the quint ghouls gasps turn to breathy moans.

"And you're cold," Aeon murmurs against Dew's skin. Dew doubts he's that cold. Sure the Abbey is drafty, the fire is burned down to embers, the ancient heating system barely reaches him room. But Dew runs hot. It takes a lot more than a quick trip to the bathroom to dull it. But he isn't going to deny Aeon his wants--his excuses. Not when he's gripping Dew's cock through his sweatpants and dragging his thumb along the piercing under the head. Homing in on Dew's sweet spots before he's even fully awake. "I'm here now. So, warm me up," Dew mumbles. Tipping his head just enough so Aeon can reach his mouth with his own. It's an awkward kiss. The press of chapped lips at an angle that doesn't really help. But Dew leans into it anyway. Flicks his tongue out over Aeon's bottom lip. It's dark enough that even with their faces touching Aeon is muddy. Shadows cast over his dark skin, eyes a luminous violet. Aeon's fingers tighten around the head of Dew's cock. He leaks into his sweatpants. Hips jerking forward, head knocking back against Aeon's shoulder as he gasps. They'll both be warm in no time.

[theprodigypenguin]

Rated G | 1226 Words | Good Dad Dragon | Baby Luffy | Fluff

There was so much life in his tiny little body it was overwhelming.

*blows a kiss* for the Dragon Lovers ❤️

Nah but ever since I had that fucking dream of Dragon singing a lullaby to Luffy I've been tearing at the seams to write this, so I slammed it out while listening to Miserable Man(David Kushner) and Atlas Falls(Shinedown) , I hope you enjoy reading 😩

Title inspired by the only lullaby lyric I remember from my dream.

[nevesmose]

The chamber was a holding cell poorly disguised as a bedroom, split down the middle by a thick transparent barrier. The inner half was dark, depthless and black as the void.

"And which of my brothers are you?" Konrad Curze asked from somewhere within that darkness.

"Ferrus Manus," his visitor said plainly. "Primarch of the Tenth."

[lilac-hecox]

Another Gaza donation fic! This time for @punk-gremlin who asked for a flash fic of Shayne and Ian being nsfw in the office! Note this also has a scene of playing a boss/employee kink but it is mutual and consensual for the scene.

Shayne/Ian: The Boss

--

Ian sets down Shayne’s drafted script and Shayne would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous to see what Ian thought.

Ian’s eyes settle on Shayne, a bright blue. Shayne tries to keep his face neutral. It’s a blur between lines of Ian’s thoughts both as Shayne’s boss and his boyfriend. That particular line has been blurred for the better part of six months.

“What do you think?” Shayne asks.

“It’s genius,” Ian says, “I don’t even know why you were nervous to show me.”

“Okay, so boyfriend Ian thinks it’s good. What does my boss and owner of Smosh think of the idea?”

Ian laughs, “I’m only one half of the Smosh owner, but boss Ian’s opinion is no different than boyfriend Ian.”

“So you think I should officially pitch it at the next meeting?”

Ian nods.

Shayne settles close to him on the couch in Ian’s office. The door closed despite the fact that it’s after hours and really just the two of them are hanging out. He sets his head on Ian’s shoulder, and he feels when Ian ruffles a hand through his hair affectionately.

“Ian,” Shayne says, an idea filling him as he glances up at his boyfriend.

“Hm?”

“What if we, uh, do a scene?” Shayne asks.

Ian blinks a moment before he understands what Shayne is asking.

“Oh…oh. Really? Here?”

Shayne presses a kiss to the side of Ian’s neck, as if trying to butter him up to the idea.

“Yeah, can we? Tell me Ian. Tell me what I can do to get my live show made.”

Ian sucks in a breath.

“Fuck, Shayne.”

Shayne glances at Ian and smirks sweetly, innocently.

“Tell me what I can do, Boss. I’ll do anything.”

They play this game often. Shayne is hooked on the idea of playing up their boss and employee dynamic. It isn’t their real dynamic at all, just a game, just fun, but Shayne is addicted to the feeling, to the playful idea that Ian is his boss and can tell him what to do.

Ian’s eyes are dark as he lets out a breath.

“Oh, you want your show to be made that bad. Bad enough that you’d whore yourself out to me?”

Shayne nods, and then he slides from the couch so he’s on the floor of Ian’s office and he finds himself between Ian’s spread knees.

“Tell me what I can do for you.”

Ian cards a hand through Shayne’s hair sweetly.

“You can suck my dick for starters.”

Shayne moans and he happily goes for Ian’s belt and zipper and gets them down. He gets Ian’s half-hard cock out and he curls his fingers around the base, feeling Ian hiss in pleasure. Without preamble, he closes his mouth around the head of Ian’s dick, sucking at the hardened length and feeling the pulse of his dick throbbing, tasting the bitter of Ian’s pre-come.

“Look at you,” Ian says, slipping into his role, “so desperate to get your ideas made that you’ll suck your boss off in my office.” Ian presses down on Shayne’s head, urging him to take more, “Such a good boy, Shayne.”

Shayne moans around the length of Ian’s dick, letting Ian sink further and further into his mouth. He hums around the cock, the familiar taste of Ian on his tongue. It’s comforting and Shayne flicks his eyes up to meet Ian’s gaze. He moans again when they stare each other down and Ian’s breathing is quicker, his face flushed, eyes darker and turned on.

Shayne pulls off a moment to breathe and his hand replaces his mouth, stroking Ian from base to tip.

“Please, Sir,” Shayne says, “I believe in this idea so much. Please help me get it approved.”

Ian cups Shayne’s face strokes his cheek before he rubs his thumb across Shayne’s bottom lip where it’s beginning to get red and swollen.

“Make me come first and we’ll see,” Ian says.

Shayne takes Ian back into his mouth, takes him down until the head of Ian’s cock touches the back of Shayne’s throat. He’s not so good at deep throating so he doesn’t push himself more and instead comes back up.

“What would your co-workers say if they saw us like this? If they saw how easy you get on your knees for your boss? How far you’re willing to go to succeed here. Do you think they’d wonder if you’ve been fucking your way to the top all along? That your Smosh’s golden boy because you’re willing to go down on me in my office any time I ask for it.”

Shayne aches in his pants. It took a long time for Ian to get comfortable with these types of scenes, but when he is, wow, he’s perfect and it makes Shayne so hard. None of it is real or true and he knows that, but the game, the pretending of it all. It gets Shayne so hard.

“Fuck your mouth feels good. So good for me,” Ian says, tugging just a bit on Shayne’s hair, “you’re getting me there. I’m going to come soon and when I do I want you to swallow it all. I want you to swallow every single drop, okay?”

Shayne nods, still sucking, still looking at Ian as he quickens his pace and sucks harder and he sees the way Ian’s eyelashes flutter against his cheeks in pleasure, the way he can’t quite control how his own hips twitch upwards and he presses himself deeper into Shayne’s mouth.

Shayne knows after he makes Ian come it’ll be his turn and Ian will press him on to the couch and get him off with his hand or his mouth, or both, and he’ll be so affectionate to erase any bad feelings of this scene between them but for now Shayne wants to make Ian come and he wants to swallow every drop of come just like Ian asked him to.

“Shayne,” Ian moans and his head tips back as his cock throbs in Shayne’s mouth and then he comes.

Shayne swallows rope after rope of bitter come and he shivers in pleasure as he takes Ian’s load. Shayne keeps Ian in his mouth until Ian begins to soften, until he whines and then grips Shayne’s shoulder. Then, Shayne releases him, giving one last lick to the head.

“Was I good enough?” Shayne asks, voice rough from sucking Ian off, “will you greenlight my live show?”

“Absolutely,” Ian says, wrapping a hand around Shayne’s muscled arm and tugging him upwards so he can lean in and kiss Shayne, chasing the taste of himself on Shayne’s tongue.

[fanfictionroxs]

Story time!

The most scary thing that Sean has ever seen or heard in his life is Black and White doing the stereotypical 'finish each other's sentences/being in sync' twin thing.

They stopped doing it at a very young age because they understood that it annoyed their parents (screw them), but the brothers never lost that ability of knowing each other's exact move.

The first time Black and White do this, they're all in the garage and the twins had teamed up to mess with Yok whose eyes got progressively larger with each word passing from their mouths. He had been teasing them about how different they were and "are you both even twins? It's not how tv dictates twins should be"

And Black and White had turned to look at each other, their heads turning back to Yok, lips stretching into the same creepy smile and everyone in the garage felt a shiver go down their spine as Black opened his mouth.

"You see Yok-" he said

"-It's not that we can't do it-" White continued.

"-it's just that we don't want to-" Black shrugged.

"-we're our own person-" the twins chimed together.

"-but mostly it's scary for people-" they continued.

"-I mean look at you-" White

"- you look like you're about to wet yourself-" Black

"-and that makes us very happy-" they fucking synched again!

"-which honestly White said was mean-"

"- and Phi agrees of course-"

"-no, I don't-"

"-Yes, you do-"

Black cut off the back and forth to glare at White who raised an eyebrow.

Yok grabbed Gumpa's sleeve.

"Hia, I'm scared!"

"Are we sure we have a problem with being mean to people?" Black fake whispered to White. Sean saw a smirk go up his boyfriend's face who replied, "I don't know, Phi. It is quite fun."

And Black's lips widened into a matching smirk, the brothers gazing at each other with evil mischief (more like sadistic glee) and Sean felt Gram shiver alongside him.

Yeah maybe it was better Black and White weren't the stereotypical twin types. They seemed to become less Black and White and more Grey and Grey.

[you-need-not-apply]

Hello to this weird and wonderful community!

Heyo everyone! I’m Jamie, I use any pronouns but only on tumblr for the name. Please do not use irl or on any other platforms thanks

I’ve been on tumblr since 2016-17

List of my side blogs and what they do

I’m always bored so please send me dms and asks!

My Tags:

#barista tones tags about my work and me

#tones posts about me

#the gremlin child saga @awokenbydreams @lewis-the-strange and @thesorryboys-updates shite posting spree! LIST OF MUTUALS LIST OF MUTUALS THROUGH MARAUDERS SIDE BLOG

AO3: You_need_not_apply working on my first long fic! Link to fic here!

[abysskeeper]

Chapter: 1/1

Summary: It had only been two weeks since they discovered what the Absolute was and how it came to be. It had only been two weeks since they had seen the relic for themselves, but the way Gale continued to speak about it bordered on obsession.

Nox'ani was exhausted, but more than that, she was terrified. Not about the impending end of the world, but about the growing probability the love of her life was going to tear himself asunder with his own, reckless ambition.

(Bit of a prelude/rewrite of Gale's Act 3 scene; cleanup of this)

By all accounts, Nox’ani Skuldavi was exhausted.

It was an earned exhaustion at least, given everything that was going on around them. It had only been two weeks since they had left Moonrise Towers after their, quite frankly, shocking success against Ketheric Thorm and the death god Myrkul, and they could not afford to spare a moment. They had made it to Baldur’s Gate in record time from Moonrise, probably only a day or so after the full forces of the Absolute arrived, and even still it was obvious the reaches of the cult were already deeply rooted into the heart of the city and only growing worse by the day.

Their merry little band of tadpoled misfits had their work cut out for them. They needed to put an end to the murders that were causing chaos and terror to sweep through the city. They needed to find and deal with Orin before she could lay a hand on Halsin. They needed to…well, she wasn’t even sure what they needed to do to Gortash, though letting her sister’s gauntleted fist connect with his face and then letting Karlach deal with the rest was a tempting plan. No matter how they did it, they had to deal with the remaining two Chosen and retrieve their Netherstones, and none of that factored into who—or more precisely, what—was relaying that information to them and what was awaiting them once they had all three stones:

An illithid ally and an elder brain controlled by the gods damned Crown of Karsus.

So yes, between the Bhaalspawn and the Banites, between the illithids and the devil still looking to make a deal, and between the cult and the common criminal of a city like Baldur’s Gate, Nox was exhausted and growing closer to the end of her rope with each passing day. There was still too much to do, too much to plan for, and by the time darkness settled around them each night over the past two weeks, her mind spun with everything that was left for them to do until she felt as if they were no closer to their goals than when they took their first step out of Moonrise.

And yet, despite all of that, somehow she still found herself the most concerned with the wizard walking beside her in the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate. The only thing her addled mind kept returning to day in and day out was not the threat of the end of the world, but the man next to her filled with far too much ambition for his own good.

It had only been two weeks since they discovered that the Absolute was actually an elder brain under command of the Crown of Karsus. It had only been two weeks since they had seen the relic for themselves, but the way Gale continued to speak about it bordered on obsession.

At first, she wanted to believe it was simple fascination. Any scholar worth their salt would positively salivate at the possibility of holding the Crown in their hands, herself included. But as the days stretched on, so did Gale’s fascination, and it became increasingly apparent their shared interest in a renowned, historical artifact diverged at one critical juncture.

Really, the moment he laid eyes on it, Nox should’ve known it would come to this. She knew Gale well enough, and she knew enough about the Crown to put two and two together. Though, perhaps that was a touch unfair to expect from herself. She was more concerned with everything else going on in the chamber that day to have noticed or really considered what the Crown was at the time, and thereafter she was far more concerned with the Dead Three’s Chosen and the elder brain.

So really, the moment Gale sat her down and explained to her what it was he hoped to accomplish with it, she should’ve known it would come to this.

And really, she shouldn’t have agreed to finding the Annals, but the logical part of her knew that learning anything else about the Crown would only benefit them in their pursuit of defeating the Absolute. A quieter part of her hoped that reading the Annals himself would dissuade Gale from continuing with this asinine desire for godhood with the Crown. Unfortunately, that seemed to have backfired considerably, and between the Annals and his meeting with Mystra, he seemed more determined than ever to reforge the Crown for himself.

And that…that terrified her. More than Bane and Bhaal, more than the elder brain and the worm in her head, Nox was terrified she was going to watch the man she’d come to love tear himself apart with his own, reckless ambition.

So here they were, walking through the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate because she asked him to accompany her on an evening stroll. She needed to talk to him—alone and away from the constant buzz of the city—in an effort to get him to see that the only thing awaiting him at the end of this path he wished to tread was ruin, even if he succeeded. Maybe it would at least soothe her racing mind, and she could focus on what was, undeniably, the far greater concerns in front of them.

The problem was that she had always been considerably lacking in words, and for all her plans of needing to say something, Nox had no idea what that was. Their walk thus far had been done in amicable silence, though Gale hardly seemed to mind. His fingers were loosely threaded through hers, their joined hands swaying lazily between them with every step they took. He seemed to genuinely enjoy simply being in her presence for one, calm moment amidst the chaos they were surrounded by, and while it was incredibly nice to revel in, she wished he would press her for why she asked him to join her. Then she would be forced to answer, if nothing else.

He wouldn’t though, she knew he wouldn’t. Even if he knew she needed to talk to him—and he likely did, she wasn’t exactly subtle with her anxiety—he would wait for her to initiate. He allowed for and respected her need for the necessary space and time to gather herself, which was great…when she knew what she wanted to say and was just puzzling out how to say it. That was not the case here, being at a total lack of words as she was.

Unfortunately too, she also knew if she didn’t say something now, then either her head was going to burst with all the concerns in her mind or they were going to complete their little stroll without her saying a single word. Neither option was feasible, and she conceded that having no plan by now meant the only thing left for her to do was just rip it off.

They were far enough away from the bustle of the city that she felt more comfortable talking to him. No one would overhear them, and no new emergency they had to take care of would spring forth and immediately interrupt them. It was the best they were going to get.

She drew a slow, deep breath through her nose, and then exhaled it just as slowly in order to steady herself before she started. “Gale?” Nox asked softly, tugging on his hand.

“Yes, dear?” he asked in return, warm brown eyes sliding over the meet hers.

“Can we…stop for a moment?” she asked. She finally came to a halt and let go of his hand, moving to stand in front of him. “We need to talk.”

Gale smiled at her. “I suspected there was something you wished to speak about. What’s on your mind?”

Nox drew and released another breath before nodding. “Well…I…” She immediately faltered with how he was watching her so carefully, so patiently, and with his complete, undivided attention. It was how he always watched her, and usually it made her heart sing. For some reason, right now it was making something foreign gnaw at her gut.

She cast her eyes downward, and before even thinking on it, blurted in a rush, “…You know your plan is absolutely ridiculous, right?”

That…wasn’t exactly how she wanted to start this. Alright, that most definitely wasn’t how she wanted to start this, there was absolutely a better way to phrase it, but she was exhausted, and her nerves were already so well beyond frayed she wasn’t sure they hadn’t unraveled entirely. It was even more graceless than usual for her, but at least it put everything else into motion.

“Pardon?” Gale asked. She glanced up and watched his smile pull into a frown as he folded his arms in front of him. “I thought it was a rather efficient plan. So long as we remain in pairs and in our designated sections, we should be able to map the entirety of the sewers in no time and—"

“No, no. Not…not that plan,” she cut him off with a shake of her head. After they learned of Halsin’s kidnapping, he had proposed the best way to investigate the sewers and try to find Orin was by splitting up in groups the following morning and each taking a section. They had all readily agreed. “That plan is genius actually, and an excellent way to maximize our time. That isn’t the plan I mean.”

When he only continued watching her and didn’t press on what plan she did mean, Nox heaved another long breath and explained quietly, “I’m talking about the Crown, Gale.”

A part of her expected him to immediately get defensive over it, given how much thought he had put into what he could possibly do with the Crown of Karsus. Another part of her expected him to refuse to talk about it. Instead, his face darkened considerably at the mention of the artifact, though it wasn’t necessarily out of anger. She had seen anger on him, and it wasn’t this. Anger didn’t furrow his brows quite so deeply, and it didn’t cause the storms to cross his eyes as they were now.

No, this was more…confusion, maybe. Or, if she was letting herself be hopeful, then maybe it was doubt. It was almost a relief to see, especially if it was doubt, because that meant he wasn’t as fully committed to this ludicrous idea as she initially feared.

“Ah. Well, I admit, I have noticed you have been more non-committal than usual when I have brought the subject up,” Gale responded. He took a long moment to look her over, and it took all of her will not to squirm under his scrutiny, uncertain as she was regarding what exactly it was he was searching for. “What, exactly, is it about my plan that you object to?” he finally asked. His voice was measured, controlled and taut in place of all the warmth he had addressed her with only a moment ago.

“All…of it?” she answered tentatively. No, no she couldn’t be tentative. She had already been tentative with him when discussing it several times prior. She had tried to be gentle in her dissuasions from this path and it hadn’t worked. She had to be sure of herself.

She was sure of herself. “All of it,” Nox repeated. “It’s Karsus’s Crown, Gale. Karsus,” she stressed the name in hopes that alone could get through to him. “The epitome of a wizard’s hubris and a wizard’s folly! One of the earliest stories we are taught in school with one of the simplest lessons to learn. Why? Why do you want to repeat that?” she asked, feeling some of the biting anxiety from the last few weeks welling up in her chest. “Why do you want to be the next star of a story we already know ends catastrophically?”

“Nox…” Gale sighed heavily, some of the tension easing from his shoulders as he did so. “You’re nervous, and rightfully cautious.” That felt like an understatement. “But one of the great benefits of standing where we do now in Toril’s timeline is that we have the ability to learn from history,” he explained softly, almost like he was soothing a prey animal. “We can learn from what Karsus did and all of his mistakes, we won’t repeat them.”

“Or we repeat history with our own, new and exciting flares,” she retorted quickly. Her jaw clenched and unclenched a few times in an attempt to temper her volume. “How many mortals have attempted to become gods without being invited? How many have sought such power and it left them in ruin?” she asked, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Apotheosis is no mere trifle!”

“It is not,” he agreed calmly. “But I am no mere man, and I have countless examples to look to for what not to emulate. This is something I know I can do,” he added. His expression hardened as he continued to stare at her in thought though, and the look left her dreading whatever he was going to say next before he even said it. “Or…do you not agree?”

The accusation was harsh enough with all of the implications tethered into the subtext: did she not think he was skilled enough? Did she not think he was capable? Or did she simply not trust him to keep to his word? But it was the fear in his eyes, thinly veiled by a feigned neutrality, that truly tore at her chest.

The worst part was that he could not be further from the truth in any of it. Failure had never been a part of the equation for either one of them.

“That’s not…that’s not what I meant and you know it,” Nox denied, voice rising half a pitch. She turned away, granting herself a moment to clear her throat and contain herself. “You are a man of phenomenal skill and boundless talent and intelligence, I have never disagreed,” she said once she felt more in control of herself. She turned back to level him with her stare. “I have never even considered your failure in this situation.”

Her admittance was enough to knock him off guard, if the way his expression softened into surprise was any indication. He held her gaze for a long, quiet moment, searching for an answer to a question he had yet to voice. “Then…?”

“Gale…”

She scrubbed a hand over her face, stifling a groan. He didn’t understand, which she somewhat expected but had still hoped wouldn’t be the case. The man was intelligent and thoughtful, he understood so much of what she said, but he always fell short regarding himself. It wasn’t surprising, but it still left an aching pang in the pit of her stomach. She so desperately wished he could see and understand himself as she did.

Instead, she had to switch tactics.

“Alright…let us imagine you do manage to acquire the Crown and ascend with it. What then, hm?” Nox asked. She crossed her arms against the chill as a nighttime breeze swept through the glade they stopped in. That would be her excuse in any case, though she knew it was a common tell she had against her own, rising frustrations.

“You wish to do battle with Mystra?” she pressed, and then rolled her eyes with a derisive snort. “As if we have no idea how that would go. This is the goddess’s third incarnation, and Toril has tried to tear itself apart at the seams each time she died. Even if you won against her, there is no telling how the Weave would react, nor no telling how Toril would react to the Karsite Weave if it came to it. Or…”

Her face fell as a darker thought crossed her mind. It was one she had no desire to entertain, one she knew logically made no sense in the grander, hypothetical scheme they were currently painting, but then much of Gale’s feelings regarding Mystra—the love and the hatred both—likely defied logic. Understandably so, all things considered.

“…Or do you still wish to return it to her? To return to her? Do you wish to kowtow to her again in hopes she will finally see your worth and return you to her side?”

To his credit, up until this point Gale had afforded her neutrality and respect as she spoke against his desires. His face quickly soured at this accusation though, his eyes narrowed and his mouth pulled into a frown. “You are more than aware that is as unfair as it is untrue,” he refuted curtly.

“Fine,” she quickly agreed. She was aware that it was unfair to ask, and she figured it was untrue by now too. As she knew, logically it made sense, but a part of her still doubted. Likely, a part of her would always doubt whether he was truly over Mystra. A part of her would always doubt she was enough to sideline a goddess. But that was her burden to bear, and it was her insecurity to trouble over and puzzle out, not his. Especially not now.

“That…still does not answer any of my prior questions,” Nox pointed out quietly.

“Your prior questions…” Gale trailed off with a heavy sigh. “Your prior questions are worthy of consideration, undeniably, but they are still hypothetical—and they are hypothetical because you are correct. We do not know how Toril would react, it could be as you expect, or it could be as I expect. Or it could be anywhere in between, and that is part of the risk,” he acquiesced, but his eyes fixed on her, imploring her to understand. “But is it not worth the risk, Nox? All it would take is but a moment, and then I…and then we…”

“And what of we?!”

She grimaced when he stopped at her interruption and took a step back, clearly surprised at her outburst. But was it really so unexpected? This was the second time he had slipped in his explanations, the second time he had put himself first and considered her and their relationship second. It was unintentional, she would allow him that grace because she knew it. It was born from years of fending only for himself, of having to only consider himself and what he needed. It was born of relying solely on himself, and knowing he would be the one to complete this plan of his. She knew it was no slight against her, but it still bore questioning because she worried it was the crux of his issue.

“Then what of us?!” Nox demanded when he said nothing. She could feel her throat starting to burn. “What of the mortal man I love? What of me?!”

Her feet carried her back a step of their own accord, and she looked up at him with hot, blurry eyes. “Or do you not realize this is a plan for one? What would you wish of me when I am no longer able to stand at your side as an equal?!” she shouted. “Would you have me kneel at your feet as a subordinate? Is that what you desire?”

Her jaw clenched at the very thought, but to prove her point, she slowly lowered herself to her knees before him and then bowed her head as if in prayer. She felt a tremble pass through her—frustrated, yes, but also enraged…fully aware of just how many times she had held this exact position to no avail—before she ground out, “Is a worshipper what you see? A single soul to praise the Great Lord of Magic?”

She needn’t look up to feel the shift in the air around them, the weight of anger extinguishing like the flame on a wick being snuffed and transforming into something altogether…different. Slowly, she raised her head and met his stare with her own. His brown eyes were dark, nearly black, and the charge that surged through their locked gazes made her mouth run dry as the rest of her words fell to dust on her tongue.

The thought struck her, briefly, that if he wanted her on her knees all he had to do was ask…which was a surprising revelation in itself because a month ago that wasn’t the case. Though a month ago, Nox supposed, she had yet to admit she had fallen for this frustratingly incredible wizard who refused to see the worth he contained in his own, mortal self.

Not that it mattered either, because that wasn’t what this was. It wasn’t just what this was, anyways. A desire sparked in his dark eyes, the kind she still had trouble recognizing and accepting being directed at her, but it was also nothing in comparison to the flare of concern shining there. It was a burning sympathy, a warm, aching understanding of what she had been through, and if she were honest, she should have expected nothing less.

They hadn’t suffered in exactly the same ways, but they ran parallel to one another. He had no need to use words, nor to even use the connection of their tadpoles. The very question—the very recognition she just made towards the act of kneeling pulsed through the Weave that surrounded them, the magic they delighted in sharing with one another.

How many times?

The urge to turn away, to avert herself from his knowing stare and the vulnerability it caused, disintegrated the moment Gale started moving towards her. Nox stilled completely, her breath catching in her throat as he lowered himself onto one knee in front of her and placed his hands on her arms. Gently, he assisted her back up to her feet and lightly caressed her arms a few times before he refused to waste another moment. A warm hand cupped her cheek, and he leaned forward to press a sweet kiss to her mouth.

Any lingering negativity twisting in her gut vanished as she sighed into him. He took the opportunity, his hand sliding back to tangle in her hair and his tongue tracing over her lips in wordless question. Nox responded immediately, a small moan escaping her while her hands came up to grasp at the fabric of his shirt. Gale wrapped his free arm around her waist and pulled her closer, eagerly deepening the kiss…and she was gone. She melted into him, her legs nearly giving way while he explored her mouth and slipped his hand under the hem of her tunic to lightly trace over her spine.

It was easy to get lost in him, especially in these moments. No matter how passionate or sweet the kiss, his were always tinged with an almost desperate devotion—a burning, devouring need for her to see, to feel, to know just how far he would go for her. And no matter how insignificant or insecure she felt, no matter how exhausted she was or how hard she questioned herself…it always worked.

His adoration was unquestionable, occasionally she simply needed a reminder.

The need for air finally broke them apart, but he barely moved away from her. Still cradling the back of her head, his forehead rested on hers and his lips were only a hair’s breadth away from her own. “I would have answered you in Elturel,” he spoke into the infinitesimal space between them, voice low and rough with laden emotion.

Before she could even consider his admittance, Gale kissed her again. She felt the significance of the words he just spoke still hanging heavily on his lips as they brushed over hers. “I would have answered you in Avernus,” he continued, speaking the words against her. His voice was still a low hum, rough and weighted and hushed, loaded with all the sacredness and melodics of a hymn.

Finally, Nox opened her eyes to look up at him, her surprise and wonder met with the most smoldering sincerity. “I would have answered you every time you asked during your travels of Candlekeep and Waterdeep and Baldur’s Gate,” he said. “I would have ensured you knew I was always at your side with every step you took. I would have ensured you never, never felt the need to question your own worth. I would have venerated you—”

His hand moved forward, cupping her cheek again as a soft, adoring smile slipped onto his face and warmth pooled into his eyes. “—And when the time came…when the time may still come, I would make you my equal. You have never been anything less,” Gale declared easily, as if he was discussing meal options and not apotheosis. “We would stand side by side as we reshaped all that we know, all that we love, into something worthy of its potential,” he added. “We would finally make things better for mortals—for those who know our struggles intimately well.”

Nox let out a low, long breath, and she leaned forward to rest her head against his chest. Her eyes slowly closed again as she listened to the steady thrum of his heart beating, felt the mystical buzz of the Orb—the Karsite Weave—against her cheek, and truly considered his words. It was not a difficult task, given how many of her own words were entangled in the spaces of all he said and all he meant. How many times during their journey had she lamented the Gods’ obvious lack of care to much of mortal suffering? How many times had she besmirched the Gods for withholding their divine power from man? How many times had she claimed mortals would be better off without the divine?

And yet…staring down the offer now, the worst part was knowing that it was possible. Claiming the Crown from the Absolute and reshaping the world into something they believed in would not be simple tasks by any means, but they were not impossible feats. In fact, they were hurtling towards both options being well within their grasps. But…she was not so sure it was a goal she desired anymore.

She was not so sure it was ever a goal she desired to begin with.

Attaining godhood had never been the option she considered when lodging her complaints. If anything, she wanted to see mortals free from the divine, not grasp the power herself. And now…well, she still had questions. She still took issue regarding many things, but Moonrise forced much of her perspective to shift. Hearing Selûne’s call again in a land ravaged by her sister shifted much. Watching Shadowheart turn away from all she knew in pursuit of something better with another deity shifted a lot, meeting Dame Aylin and witnessing what divine power…divine justice could do for a land so plagued my malice for so long…it all complicated matters considerably. If nothing else, it altered her thoughts drastically and left her with an even more complex web to untangle regarding her emotions towards divinity.

If nothing else, she was beginning to understand the role of a god was not much easier than the role of a man.

That, however, was not necessarily the facet she needed to address now. Not yet, at least. She still had time to weave her way through her snarled thoughts regarding divinity when there was another, far easier matter—far easier for her, at least—to discuss first. It was something she only understood recently they both struggled deeply with, how they both found that clawing insecurity lodged in their hearts when faced with each other, but now that she knew it existed in him just as readily as her, it was easy for her to read between the lines of how he spoke to her. How he spoke about her and all he wished he could do for her.

All things considered, it was really rather ironic.

“And I know you would have done all of that for me had you been around, regardless of godhood,” Nox finally murmured into his chest. “In spite of it, even.”

She paused, letting her words hang around them and waiting to see if he would respond to her. When he did not, she shifted enough to peer one eye up at him. The smile was gone from his face, but Gale was still watching her with an aching tenderness and an added look of unbridled curiosity.

“I have been…wondering, of late,” she admitted quietly, spurred on by his inquisitive gaze. “…I would swear apotheosis lays claim to what little may remain of a mortal before being deified. The Gods may wield their divine power, and I have lamented more than enough about all they keep from us…but I have often failed to consider what we have in their place.”

She cast her eyes downward as she mulled over and continued her thought. “There may be hundreds of worlds out there, but even the one at our fingertips is vast in its beauty. We are vast and beautiful in our capacity. We know and experience more than the divine could ever conceive. We are the ones who dream, who believe, who stop and wonder at the world around us. Hells, even our faith in the divine themselves is something precious and beautiful they will never experience.”

Nox paused, smiling to herself as she felt the warmth of a blush start tinting her pale cheeks. “And, most importantly, what I have rediscovered most recently…is that we love.”

She pulled away from him just enough to view him and his shining eyes clearly. After a moment, she reached up with one hand to press it against his cheek. “All of that to say, I don’t need a god, Gale. A god could never grant me all the pain, all the beauty, all the love that exists in this world. I have no use for a god,” she whispered. “All I need is you.”

Her fingers settled over the veins curling up his cheek, and she stroked over them a few times before she delicately trailed down their path towards the Orb in his chest. She pushed the collar of his shirt out of the way and traced over the ring of the Orb itself before her hand settled, the tips of her fingers over the Karsite Weave and her palm over his heart. “I need the mortal man in front of me,” she confessed, rendering herself breathless and a little light-headed.

She hadn’t needed anyone but her sister for quite a while, but there was no denying this man had slotted into her life so seamlessly by now that she couldn’t bear to imagine a future where he was absent from her side. “I need the one with passion in his veins and devotion in his heart,” Nox whispered and dared to glance up at him.

Gale released a shuddering sigh, his eyes slipping closed for a moment while one of his hands came up to rest over her own against his heart. “I could give you worlds, and you tell me this is enough,” he muttered and opened his eyes to gaze down at her.

His brown eyes were piercing, consuming, but warm and filled to the brim with nothing but love. “You grace me with such words, such brilliant, exceptional joys…and most days, the mortal man before you does not feel worthy of you,” he admitted.

His tone was joking, his voice light and the small smile he gave her was as playful as it was sweet, but she could see the lingering sadness masked in his eyes. The concern and the doubt that he wasn’t enough, the fear that it would one day drive her away like it had in the past. They were surely the same emotions he had seen so readily reflected in her gaze countless times before. The same ones he assuaged with gentle reminders and light kisses.

Luckily, she could return those easily.

“Then he needs to stop concerning himself with matters that are not for him to decide,” Nox said, her voice teasing to match his tone, but every word carrying nothing but sincerity. Her free hand snaked around his neck and she pulled him down for another kiss. His surprised breath fanned over her lips, and she smiled against him, triumphant.

“I alone determine what I am worth,” she breathed against him. “And I have decided that you, my dear Wizard of Waterdeep, are more than what even my wildest fantasies could ever bring to me. You are worth more than every last bit I could possibly give.”

She pulled back in time to catch a flash of the beaming grin Gale gave her, just before he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close again. He placed a soft kiss on her temple and then buried his face in her hair, murmuring, “And how I will wonder for the rest of my mortal days why fate decided to grant me such fortune.”

Nox sunk into him with a sigh, burying herself in him and allowing herself to revel in the warmth he exuded for a few moments before she had to return them to her primary point. “If you truly see it as such fortune…then perhaps you can stop attempting to throw it away at every opportunity?” she finally asked quietly.

His arms tightened around her, and she granted him a moment too before she leaned her head back to look up at him. When he didn’t meet her eyes, she freed her hand and returned it to his cheek, gently guiding him back to her. “Can we put this to rest, Gale? Please?” she asked, on the verge of pleading. “You have been worrying me for weeks, you know.”

Gale gave another, weary sigh as his eyes grew distant with thoughts Nox couldn’t even begin to fathom. The longer she stared up at him though, silently begging him to see reason, the more the shadows clouding his eyes receded. “I…do suppose we cannot rid ourselves of the Crown entirely,” he answered, and her heart dropped. “It is still attached to the elder brain we need to defeat, and Mystra did request I return it to her.”

Oh. That was…better, at least. She still despised he had a point, for multiple reasons, but she could not deny he was correct.

“But, I also do suppose I have been quite the fool these past few weeks.”

Gale pressed her hand into his cheek before he turned, brushing his lips against her open palm. “It can rest,” he agreed, and sweet relief swept through her. “I apologize, the last thing I intended to do was add more to your already troubled mind. I never wished to worry you, darling.”

“I know,” Nox said. “And your aspirations are noble, I understand, but it…” She paused, swallowing back the lingering emotions roiling in her chest. “You are already so capable, you already have so much potential as it is. You already do so much good. Please…do not squander it on a chance that is more likely to ruin you than assist you.”

He sighed, his warm breath traveling over her palm and down her forearm. It caused her to shiver. “One day I hope to feel like the man you must see me as,” he admitted. “Often, your faith in me feels misplaced, but it is one of the few things that keeps me moving steadily forward.”

“Then do not disrespect and squander it either,” she joked.

He smiled and shook his head, before leaning down to kiss her lightly. “Never,” he swore against her lips.

“Thank you,” she breathed a sigh of relief.

When Nox felt him starting to disentangle himself from her, her stomach churned again, and her arms tightened around him as she pressed herself back into his chest. She felt a few, lingering tears escape from the corner of her eyes. “Can we stay…just for a few more minutes?” she asked quietly. “I…I think I need a few more just to…just to gather myself…”

“Of course, my dear,” Gale agreed with a small, breathy laugh. He pulled her flush against him and started rubbing circles against her back. “I will gladly give you however long you need. It is the very least I can do.”

[dutifullylazybread]

I hope you all are ready.

Tomorrow's chapter is almost 8,000 words long.

[clowngremlin]

thinking about the inkheart message board i went on from like 2009-2011......i wonder if the other people who went on it still think of me or am i just sentimental...... i think about them often and i hope they all grew up to be happy..... inkers for life.....

[wantonlywindswept]

yet another fic idea: fox & boba, ponds lives

Consider: Boba looks at Ponds. Ponds looks back. Boba snaps, "You're a dishonor to my father's face," and shoves Ponds' helmet onto his head.

Consider: Boba presses a blaster to the back of Ponds' neck. Boba flicks a switch. Boba pulls the trigger.

Consider: Boba dumps Ponds' limp body into the airlock. When he hits the eject button, the transmitter on the back of Ponds' armor blinks a steady green.

Consider: Ponds is the youngest batchmate of Bly, of Cody, of Wolffe. Ponds is the youngest batchmate of Fox. 

Consider: Fox loves his batchmates. 

Consider: Fox pays his debts. 

Consider: It's really not that difficult for the Commander of the Guard to make one prisoner disappear.

[bellowsthebard]

They had won.

Ludinus was dead. Otahan was dead. Prodathos was still trapped in Ruidus. It didn’t matter.

Imogen was dead.

Laudna held her in silence. A contrast to the day their places were reversed, but the rest of Bell’s Hell could hear the “I’m sorry”s still echoing through their heads. They probably would for a long time.

Nothing could be done. The acrid stink of the poison that took his husband and father burned in Orym’s nose. They all knew coming into this it was a possibility. No god could save her, even if she had died to save them.

Laudna brushed Imogen’s hair from her face, just as she had done after so many nightmares, but this time she was the one living it. I’ll always be with you, that’s what she had promised.

Pulling Imogen close she feels the bark grow along her arms and she begins to take her form of dread. The image on the sun tree bursts into her mind, holding her hand against its trunk, right next to Imogen’s. She can see it, feel it. The ley-lines beneath it stretch all the way here, and grant her a power and strength beyond herself.

The bark and branches continued to grow enveloping them both. Their friends can’t help but be reminded of the last time they saw Laudna closed into the heart of a tree. Lost in the darkness, separated from them. Orym takes a step forward, “Laudna, don’t…”

“It’s okay. This is my choice,” She smiles as she looks down at him and he sees a peace in her eyes. A heavy hand lands on his shoulder and he turns to see Ashton holding him back. He allows himself to be pulled away. They all stand together as a new tree grows on a new convergence of ley-lines.

Roots dive into the ground, pulling themselves deep into hard, unyielding earth. The trunk encases the two women, making them unseen and unknown to everyone, except to those that love them and watch as they find their resting place. Branches painted in blacks and grey stretch toward the sky, for a moment they remain barren, but then burst with budding purple flowers.