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chickenlizard13 · 1 year

Text

All You’ve Done

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x Reader (gender neutral)

Word Count: 12790

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Like a hint of spice

Description: Buckle up kids. This got waaaaayyy longer than I’d planned, and I’ve taken a lot of liberties with the story. I envision Ominis’s wand working like a topographical map, kind of like Toph in Avatar The Last Airbender. Anyway, mainly follows Sebastian’s quest line.

“You got a staring problem?”

You were violently ripped from your thoughts by a low angry voice. Tearing your eyes from the other side of the room, you look up at the boy glaring at you from the end of the table. Furrowing your brow, you tilt your head in challenge, eyebrows rising. “Excuse you?”

You watch his hackles rise and his scowl deepen, before letting out an irritated huff. “I asked if you have a fucking staring problem.”

You give him a once over, trying to figure out where you’d seen him before. You vaguely remember dueling him in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but were struggling to produce his name. He was in Slytherin, and you were pretty sure he had an interesting reputation, but that was all you knew at the moment.

You’d met so many people in your first few days here, who could really blame you for blanking on a name? Squinting harder, you looked at the smattering of freckles across his face and wild brunette locks, hoping they’d trigger your memory. He bristled at your intense gaze, mistaking your concentration for hostility, and refused to back down.

Bringing your hand up, you repeatedly tapped the center of your forehead with your index finger, trying to summon his name to your mind. S something. Ssss-tanley. Steven. Sylis?

He’d started to fidget at your odd behavior, eyes darting questioningly to Natty as she sat beside you. Natty had seen you do this before, and laughed at Sebastian’s bewildered look, telling him to give you a moment.

“Sebastian!” You snap your fingers and point at him with a triumphant look on your face. “I’m sorry, uh, what did you want again?”

Suddenly remembering why he’d approached you in the first place, his face darkened once more. Leaning down, he gets right in your face, blocking your line of sight from your previous fixation. “You’ve been staring at Ominis for a particularly long time, and I’d like to know why.” You return his scowl and roll your eyes at his aggressive display.

“Don’t see why it’s any of your business, freckles. Can’t someone just enjoy the view in peace?” Your dismissive tone does little to dissuade him. Sebastian narrows his eyes, and doesn’t budge.

“I would think twice about messing with Ominis, if I were you. House Slytherin is not an enemy you want.” Rolling your eyes, you let out an exasperated sigh and stand up, brushing past him. You ignore his irritated calls, striding towards the blonde’s table. Ominis sat hunched over, frustratedly staring at the leaves in his hands. You purposefully make a noisy approach, so as not to spook the blind boy with your presence. Stopping next to his chair, you take a breath before you speak.

“Hello.”

Ominis slowly raises his head and does his best to look in your general direction, the look of frustration staying on his face. “...Hello. Can I help you?”

You smile at the warry tone and attempt to make your voice as sincere as possible. “I noticed you’ve been staring at these leaves for quite awhile. I was wondering if you’d want some help with…whatever, it is you’re doing?”

A look of indignation crosses his features and he sticks his nose up at you. “I don’t need anything, thank you very much. Just because I’m blind doesn’t mean that I’m incapable.”

Merlin’s beard, Slytherin boys were a prickly bunch. Sighing tiredly, you consider just turning around and walking away, but instead cross your arms and lean your hip against the table.

“I didn’t ask if you NEED any help. I asked you if you WANT any help. It’s fine if you don’t, but you’ve been sitting here fondling leaves for the better part of an hour. I assumed the wrinkle in your forehead would become permanent if I didn’t put you out of your misery. I see that I was mistaken” Without waiting for a response you turn to leave, only taking a few steps before he calls out to you.

“Wait.” You stop and turn, raising an eyebrow expectantly even though he can’t see it. He shuffles his feet and looks down at the floor, mumbling begrudgingly. “I have to write 5 inches on the medicinal and physical differences between Mallowsweet and Dittany for Herbology, and I’m having trouble with the physical portion. Someone was supposed to be here half an hour ago to help, but he still hasn’t shown up.”

Gazing over your shoulder, you could see the smoke coming out of Sebastian’s ears as he scowled at you. Natty hid an amused smile behind her hand, eyes darting between the both of you. Taunting him, you give him a wink and a sly smirk, resisting the urge to chuckle as you hear him curse you out from across the room.

Facing Ominis, you sit on the table and put your feet on the chair next to him. “So, Dittany grows on long stalks, ending in bright pink flowers. The leaves are smooth, and more circular, than Mallowsweet.” His attention had been drawn away, as he’d no doubt heard Sebastian’s string of expletives across the room, but swung his head in your direction as you spoke.

Grabbing a Dittany leaf, you gently take his wrist, ignoring the way he stiffens at the contact. You place the leaf in his hand, letting him feel the edges for a moment before moving on.

“Mallowsweet on the other hand, ends in a point and has small ridges along the edge. The leaves progressively become more yellow, the closer they get to the cluster of orange flowers at the top. Unlike Dittany, Mallowsweet grows in short clumps, the stalks close together.” You pick up a Mallowsweet leaf and tap the back of his other hand with your knuckle, signaling that he should turn his palm over for the second leaf. He does so willingly, and takes a second to feel both leaves simultaneously.

This whole time you’d been focused on describing the leaves as accurately as possible, and only now turned your gaze to his face. He seemed to be deep in thought, features unreadable, his eyes pointedly turned toward his hands.

He turned his face towards you and opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Sebastian's untimely arrival. “And what is going on over here?”

Apparently he’d had enough of watching from afar and decided to make himself known. You rolled your eyes at him once more and hopped down from the edge of the table. “Oh, there he is, you’re late. Just a little homework help, don’t get your panties in a twist.” You could hear Sebastian grumbling about how he doesn’t wear panties as you walked away. What you didn’t see was Ominis grabbing his wand and pointing it in your direction, trying to discern any identifying features from your retreating figure.

__________________

The next few weeks flew by as you dove head first into your classes, doing your best to catch up to your fellow fifth years, as per Professor Weasley’s expectations.

You were in the middle of Potions class, finishing up your Wiggenweld brew, when Professor Sharp walked up behind you quietly. Corking the bottle, you turn and face him, silently handing him the potion with a pleased smile. He took the vial just as silently and inspected it thoroughly, examining the liquid and smelling the contents. Grunting in approval, he replaced the cork and handed it back to you. “Impressive. Wiggenweld is not an easy potion, and you’ve executed it exceptionally well.”

Your smile grows a bit as you thank him for his kind words. He gestures for you to follow him back to his desk with a slight nod of his head. The two of you make your way over, and you stop at the front, as he circles around to stand behind his chair. “Professor Weasley has asked me to give you extra assignments to help you catch up with the rest of the fifth years. I’d like you to try your hand at the Edurus potion. You can find the ingredients in my office. You may use them for today, but you will be expected to provide your own in the future. We’ll see if your Wiggenweld was actual skill, or just pure luck.”

You smile as you thank him again, making your way to his office. As you walk over, you can see Garreth Weasley lurking conspicuously by the door. There’d been many a conversation in the halls about Garreth’s failed brews, and how he often roped unsuspecting students into his schemes. Uninterested in being involved, you did your best to avoid eye contact, walking quickly to the office door. Before you could escape, he stopped you, a mischievous smile lighting up his face as he spoke your name. “Did I hear correctly that you’ve gotten permission to go into Sharp’s office?”

Groaning internally, you close your eyes before turning to face him. “Yes, Garreth. Why do you want to know?”

His eyes grew bigger as the mischief turned to giddy excitement. “That’s great! How would you like to be part of something truly spectacular? I’m working on a new potion, and there’s just one final ingredient before it’s finished!” You open your mouth to deny his request, but he continues without letting you get a word out. “What is this ingredient you may ask? A Fwooper feather! Sharp has one in his office, and it would be a great help if you could grab it for me while you're there.”

Shaking your head, you let out a large sigh before looking him in the eyes. “Garreth, I’m not stealing from Professor Sharp for you.” Garreth began waving his hands back and forth frantically, a panicked look on his face.

“No, no, no, listen. It’ll be fine! Fwooper feathers aren’t THAT valuable. He won’t even miss it! Please, do this for me? Just this once, I swear!”

You pressed your lips into a thin line as you regarded the red head. He was pouting, giving you the biggest puppy eyes you’d ever seen. It was tempting to just give in and get him the feather, if only to spare you the crocodile tears. Ultimately, you decided that you’d rather stay on Sharp’s good side, and that Garreth should really focus on actually learning to brew potions instead of his semi dangerous concoctions.

“Look, Garreth. I can appreciate your…creative vision, but I am not willing to compromise my current standing in Professor Sharp’s good graces. You’re going to have to find another way to get that Fwooper feather.” You turn to continue your way into the office and feel a hand grab your sleeve.

“Wait! I promise you won’t get in trouble! I just really need-” You gave him a stern glare and whirled on him.

“Garreth. I will not be pressured into doing something I don’t want to. I’m all for breaking some rules every now and then, but stealing from a professor I respect and want to learn from, is not something I’m willing to do at this juncture. Please, drop it.” Unprepared for your ire, Garreth took a step back in shock, before slinking away in dejection. You felt a little bad, but it was for his own good. It would serve him to be told no every once in a while.

Quickly gathering the ingredients, you start walking back to your potions table, having spent way too much class time arguing with Garreth. You passed behind Ominis sitting at his own station, still trying to perfect his Wiggenweld, when he accidently knocked his wand off the counter. It hit the floor with a small clunk, and Ominis scrunched his eyebrows together, leaning down to retrieve it.

He must have misjudged where the counter started, and was about to put his whole hand into his scalding potion pot. Before you could think, you grabbed his wrist and yanked it away from the cauldron, burning the back of your hand on the lip.

You immediately went to apologize for grabbing him so suddenly, when he ripped his wrist from your grasp. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

Opening your mouth, you attempt to explain what happened. Ominis heard none of it and continued to yell, drawing the attention of the rest of the class.

“You think it’s funny to just grab someone like that?! You’ve got some fucking nerve-” You caught Sebastian stalking over out of the corner of your eye, a dark look on his face. The entire class was giving this spectacle their undivided attention, heaven forbid you had one uneventful potions class. Wanting nothing more than to finish this potion and leave, you interrupt Ominis as he accuses you of purposefully knocking his wand over.

“Ominis.” Upon hearing your voice, he clamps his mouth shut, a look of surprise and something else crossing his face. Sebastian comes to a halt next to you, teeth bared, but you ignore him and continue talking.

“You were about to put your hand into your boiling cauldron. I didn’t think that you’d particularly want to take a trip to the Hospital Wing today. I apologize for startling you.” Picking up his wand, you place it carefully onto the table, still within arms reach, but far enough that it won’t fall again. Sebastian bashfully scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment, as you brushed past him. Ignoring the stares of your classmates, you quietly brewed the Edurus potion, face carefully neutral.

Upon finishing, you brought it over to Professor Sharp. He gave it the same level of scrutiny he’d given your Wiggenweld, grunting in approval when it was up to his standards. You turned to follow the other students out of the room, when you heard Professor Sharp clear his throat. “I appreciate you denying Mr. Weasley’s request earlier, not many are able to resist his particular brand of...persuasion. He would do well to focus on actual potions while he’s still a student.” Letting out an amused huff at what he meant by ‘persuasion’, you bid him goodbye, continuing on with the rest of your classes.

——————————————-

You hated that you had to ask Sebastian for help. The smug satisfaction ever present on his face as you snuck through the Restricted Section, searching for any wisps of ancient magic. He’d been needling you endlessly about what you were after, but you successfully evaded his questioning each time.

Sebastian was too busy trying to annoy an answer out of you to notice Peeves popping out of a bookshelf, threatening to tell the librarian about your late night escapades. Fearing the consequences awaiting you if you were caught, you allowed the familiar pull of ancient magic to guide your wand. A book flew off the shelf, opening on its own, hovering before you. Peeves started floating away, taunting Sebastian with your impending detention, when your wand pulsed and dragged Peeves screaming into the pages. The book snapped shut and shuddered once, before calmly putting itself back on the shelf.

The both of you blinked at the shelf silently, holding your breath, before staring blankly at each other. Sebastian opened his mouth to ask, closing it as you held up a hand, shaking your head. You turn away from him, sensing that you needed to travel deeper into the Restricted Section, knowing he couldn’t come along.

“Well, it looks like you have free reign of the Restricted Section this evening. You can poke around to your heart's content.” He looked at you quizzically as you started heading down the stairs leading deeper below the school.

“You’re going alone? Why can’t I come? What about Peeves?” You stop and give him a gentle smile over your shoulder.

“Don’t worry about Peeves. He’ll find his way out.” Probably.

You turn to face him fully on the stairs, your smile widening. “I figured you’d want a free evening to peruse the books, uninhibited. Don’t worry about me. Thank you for getting me this far. It wasn’t completely terrible.”

He gave you a wide, boyish grin. “I think I miss judged you.” He gave you a parting wave, before sneaking off to bury himself in as many illicit tomes as possible. Smiling to yourself, you continue your way downwards, excited to discover what secrets lay so far beneath Hogwarts.

—————————————

After your jaunt through the library, you discovered that you rather enjoyed Sebastian’s company. Contrary to your first impression, he actually had a working brain between those ears, and he knew how to use it. Your friendship slowly grew over the passing weeks, until finally, he sent you an owl requesting your presence in the Defense Against the Dark Arts Tower.

Meeting him late that night, he shared with you his dearly kept secret, known only to him, Ominis, and now you. You guessed he still felt a little guilty about his behavior during your early interactions, thus offering the Undercroft in apology. The only stipulation being no one, especially Ominis, would know.

Swearing to guard his secret, you left the Undercroft, hoping to catch a few hours of sleep before your morning classes.

As fate would have it, you’re immediately cornered by the last person you wanted to see.

“Hello Sebastian.” Wide eyed, you stare at Ominis, unblinking. Perhaps if you didn’t breathe, he wouldn’t notice you. Instead assuming he’d just missed Sebastian entering the Undercroft.

It would seem that luck had abandoned you, his eyes narrowing at the lack of response. “Hold on. You aren’t Sebastian at all, are you? Did you just come from the Undercroft?!”

Biting your lip, you consider your options. You could always lie, and say you stumbled upon the room by accident. You could come clean, and admit Sebastian’s guilt. You very briefly even considered just making a break for it, praying Ominis wouldn’t catch you. You had no good options, least of all one that would end with the three of you on good terms.

Ominis’s brow twitched impatiently, wand pointed directly at your chest. You supposed that the blonde boy already thought pretty poorly of you, seeing how your previous interaction ended. Why not give him one more reason?

“I…did.” You answered cautiously, unsure where you were going, letting your lips take you.

Ominis’s scowl deepened, a haughty sneer placing itself on his lips. “Sebastian showed you didn’t he? That fool. I can’t believe he would-”

“Relax, Ominis. Sebastian didn’t give up your secret, um…willingly.” What were you saying? What did that even mean? Before you could say anything else, Ominis stopped talking and narrowed his eyes dangerously.

“What do you mean by that.” There was no question in his voice, only a frosty demand. You resisted the shiver tickling at your spine, swallowing the need to take a few steps back.

“I saw Sebastian duck in here earlier and followed him. He- uh, he’s not as sneaky as he thinks.” You had absolutely no control over the words coming out of your mouth. Cringing internally at your horrid acting, you wondered how Ominis hadn’t seen right through you.

“Don’t worry. I promised to keep the Undercroft a secret…for a…a price?” WHAT. Why would you say that? Why would you say that? You watched his chest heave in anger, latching onto the implication of your threat. It seemed he’d rather believe you the villain, than consider his friend's betrayal.

“What. Price.” There was something in his voice that sent a chill through your bones. Something hissed behind his lips, sinister and cold, almost too faint for you to hear. You felt like a rabbit cornered by a cobra, nowhere to go but through him.

Swallowing, you steeled yourself, resolving to end this interaction quickly so you could wallow in self pity from the comfort of your bed. “Nothing much, just a favor. No need to concern yourself over it.” You stupidly give him your back as you slide past, wanting to bolt from this absolute disaster, but forcing your legs to maintain a casual pace.

“If you tell anyone about this place, I will make sure the rest of your time at this school is a living hell. My father is good friends with Professor Black, and I will not hesitate to exploit that connection if I need to. Not even your precious Professor Fig will be able to save you.”

Humming lowly, you continued down the hall without looking back. You could faintly hear Ominis snarl in rage, as he opened the door roughly to question Sebastian. The sound was drowned out by the whirling thoughts in your head. What had you done? You couldn’t have created a bigger mess if you’d tried. There was no way you could come back from this, no way Ominis would want to be anywhere near you. You didn’t even know if you’d be allowed around Sebastian anymore, knowledge of the Undercroft not worth the loss of a new friend.

Resigning yourself to lie in the bed you’d made, your legs trudged the rest of the way to your dorm. Wondering what the morning would have in store.

——————————————-

Whatever had been said that night between the two, Sebastian never brought it up.

Instead, he invited you to Feldcroft to meet his sister, and uncle. Which was a less than pleasant experience, to put it lightly. You would see Ominis around the halls and in classes, but you wouldn’t get much more than a withering glare in your general direction. Sebastian reassured you that he just needed a little time to cool down, but his seemingly permanent scowl lines told a different story.

You took some comfort in knowing that Sebastian and Ominis’s friendship improved greatly, often seeing them walking together between classes. It brought a smile to your face every time Sebastian would wave to you enthusiastically when Ominis wasn’t looking, quickly putting his arm down when the blonde would face his direction. Things continued on like this for a while, settling into this weird passive aggressive routine you weren’t sure how to break.

————————————————-

Ominis was pissed. Ever since the Undercroft, he’d made sure you knew how displeased he was in your presence. He’d spent the rest of that night cursing himself for being so foolish, having believed you to be kind, just as the rest of the student body. After his outburst in potions class, he’d been contemplating ways to apologize, wanting to give you a better impression of him. Not anymore. After that night, he couldn’t even stand to hear your voice.

Your loud laugh would echo through the halls, instantly souring his mood. He questioned Sebastian constantly about the favor he owed you, but was brushed off every time. The brunette remaining tight lipped, telling him not to worry about it. In truth, he really did owe you, for taking the full brunt of Ominis’s wrath. Sebastian planned to come clean once Ominis had settled, but it seemed to be taking longer than expected.

Ominis couldn’t let it go. He began lurking around corners, listening to the whispers of other students. He listened intently for any other favors you were owed, paying particularly close attention to those you’d been seen with frequently. Nothing. All people ever did was sing your praises.

He sat alone on the second floor of the library, hiding between the tall stacks. For once, trying to avoid all human contact, his nerves frayed and mind tired.

Low murmurs were filtering in from the next aisle over. Ominis sat, uninterested, until an unmistakable laugh caught his attention. His ears perked up, instantly recognizing your carefree giggles, followed by Natty’s light scolding to be quiet. Ominis slowly stood from his seat, creeping to stand just around the corner, out of sight but in better ear shot.

Once the giggling from the both of you faded, you stood in comfortable silence, returning your borrowed books to their respective shelves. Standing there, it didn’t seem to Ominis that you were going to say anything more, taking a step away to find another hiding spot. Just as he lifted his foot, Natty’s voice quietly broke your companionable silence.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, my friend.” Her voice was quiet, as to keep her question private, but not quiet enough to escape Ominis’s sharp hearing. You hum in acknowledgement, awaiting Natty’s inquiry.

“What on Earth did you do to piss off Ominis Gaunt so badly?” Natty never minced her words, always opting to get straight to the point, something you truly appreciated about her.

Ominis could hear your breathing stop, before heaving a big sigh and plopping down in a chair. His wand pulsed, and he could tell that you’d put your head in your hands, face directed to the floor.

“You noticed that, huh?”

Natty laughed jovially, ignoring your obvious distress. “Who hasn’t? He certainly isn’t trying to be subtle.”

He could hear you sit back, your voice muffled by the hands covering your face. “…it’s embarrassing.”

Natty nudged you to continue. Sighing, you dropped your arms, hands slapping your thighs loudly. “Sebastian…told me something he shouldn’t have, and the only stipulation was that Ominis wouldn’t find out. Unfortunately, as if by magic, he caught me almost immediately. Which, believe me, was already bad enough, but then I had to make it worse by lying to him.”

Natty hummed, waiting for you to continue. “He was so angry, and I’d just promised Sebastian I’d keep his secret, you know, a secret. We’d just started really being friends and I didn’t want to jeopardize that, so I panicked and just said the first thing that came to mind.”

Natty’s brow lifted. “Which was…?” Your head fell back into your hands, your words becoming slightly muffled.

“I told him that I’d keep their secret for a price. A price, Natty! Like I was some kind of Ashwinder demanding ransom. What the fuck was I thinking?” You groaned, and Natty remained silent as you rambled, the words spilling out of your mouth.

“You don’t understand. He was so scary. I was nearly pissing myself the whole time. It took everything in me to not sprint away. Ranrok’s loyalists have nothing on Ominis when he’s well and truly put out.” You paused briefly to take a breath before charging forward. “I just- I just kept talking. I couldn’t stop. And my acting was so bad. I really don’t understand how he even believed me.”

Natty attempted to hide her smile with her hand. Ominis could vaguely hear you smack her lightly, crying that it wasn’t funny, but his mind was elsewhere.

He suddenly felt very guilty about how he’d treated you that night, now recognizing your obvious discomfort and nervousness. Why had Sebastian let you take the blame for him? Ominis thought back to his boarish behavior the last few weeks, angry at his blatant hostility and lack of attention. If he’d taken a moment to actually consider the situation, he might not have wasted so much energy hating you. He hoped you’d be willing to forgive him, but didn’t have very high hopes.

————————————————-

It took a couple days before Ominis gathered enough courage to approach you, but broke down after hearing you laugh with Sebastian before Potions. You’d noticed his sudden change in behavior, because of course you did. He seemed more withdrawn than normal, barely ever facing your direction. His newfound stoicism had begun to worry you, and asking Sebastian had been no help. He’d simply shrugged and grumbled something about Ominis being too clever for his own good.

Acquiring your extra assignments from Professor Sharp, you headed to the Room of Requirement with your newly rescued beasts, excited to show them their vivarium.

Clearing the classroom threshold, you spotted Ominis, arms crossed, leaning against the wall conspicuously. He’d been avoiding you the last few days, so it was odd to see him openly waiting around. You paused your steps and regarded him. He looked a little worse for wear, but otherwise seemed fine, physically at least. Approaching him cautiously, you stop a healthy distance away. “Hello, Ominis. Did- Did you need something?”

His fingers tighten on his sleeve, brows scrunching. You thought that you’d maybe been mistaken and you were only aggravating him further.

He didn’t turn his head to face you, but his eyes looked in your direction, trying harder than usual to pinpoint your location. “You can drop the act now.”

You fidget with your fingers and bite your lip, looking up at him through your lashes.

“I, um, I don’t-“

“Don’t even bother. Sebastian already told me about your little charade. You might as well stop while I still have a modicum of patience.”

You sighed, shoulders slumping, letting the nervous tension leave your body. “You know, it’s just like him to tell on me and ruin all my hard work.” You glance at Ominis briefly, noticing his expression had morphed into something like amusement, but it just as likely could have been a trick of the light. “So you know, but you still seem upset?”

Huffing at you, he rolled his eyes and pushed off the wall, keeping his arms crossed as he faced you fully. “Of course I’m still upset. I don’t enjoy being lied to, no matter how noble the reason. I’m perfectly capable of making my own judgments, thank you very much.” You looked at the ground and flattened your lips into a thin line, nodding in agreement before remembering that he couldn’t see you.

“Yeah ok, I deserve that. I’m sorry.” You watched him shake his head and turn his head, looking pointedly down the hall.

“Yes, well, please refrain in the future. It’s going to be very difficult spending time together if I can’t trust your word.” Slight color rose to his cheeks as he realized the possible implication of his words. “Since you’re friends with Sebastian and all. I imagine you’ll start frequenting the Undercroft more often now that your farce has been discovered.”

You chuckled and smiled at him. “Of course. I’ll try not to make a habit of it.” He nodded once, and turned to swiftly walk down the hall.

You’d thought that was the end of it, but are surprised when Ominis stops abruptly, calling to you over his shoulder. “I apologize for my behavior the other night, and everyday since then. It was rather rude and unnecessary.” Without waiting for a response, he walks off down the hall. You smile after him and continue on with the rest of your day, feeling lighter than you had in weeks.

————————————————

You did, in fact, visit the Undercroft more frequently after that. Mostly with Sebastian, but Ominis was slowly making a habit of accompanying the brunette when the two of you made plans. He’d also started showing up to your study table without so much as a greeting, simply sitting down and pulling out his assignments for the day. Today was one of those days. You glanced up from your Herbology homework to see Ominis making a beeline for your table. Smiling to yourself, you watch him approach, waiting for him to be fully seated before greeting him.

“Ominis.” You only get a hum of acknowledgement in return, before you both turn your attention to your respective assignments. An hour passes in comfortable silence, only interrupted by the clock tower signaling the start of a new hour. You’d planned to practice your spell work in the Undercroft after the library, and started packing your things to head out. Glancing at Ominis, you hesitate for only a moment before circling around to his side of the table, leaning down next to him.

“Ominis.” His head turns slightly in your direction, signaling that you had his attention without looking away from his enchanted quill. “I’m heading to the Undercroft for a bit. Care to join me?” You lean away and watch him consider your offer, before quietly disenchanting his quill and following you out of the library.

The walk to the Undercroft was done in comfortable silence, occasionally bumping shoulders on the way. He led the way down to his secret room, making sure no one had seen your entrance before closing the door securely. He headed for the center of the room, casually discarding his robe on a lounge chair on the way. You’d just crossed the threshold when he whipped around without warning. “Levioso.”

Instinctively, you shout Protego, his spell bouncing off the shield harmlessly. You look at him bewildered, about to ask what had gotten into him, when he whipped two more spells at you in quick succession. Dodging one and shielding against the other, you cast Stupify, only for him to roll out of the way effortlessly. “You know, you’ll never stand a chance against dark wizards if all you do is run away.”

“Ominis, what is happening right now? Did I do something to upset you?” He huffed and rolled his eyes, still brandishing his wand in your direction.

“Did you not come here to practice your spells?” He shot off another basic cast without warning. You leapt out of the way just in time, the spell hitting the wall behind you.

“I mean, I did, I jus- oh shit! uh, I wasn’t expecting to- fuck! Immediately find myself in a duel.” You continue to tuck and roll, as Ominis quickly fires a few more spells your way. A cocky smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, giving you the sense that he was only playing with you at the moment.

“You think Sebastian became so good at dueling by accident? He’s only considered the best because I don’t care to waste my time playing in Lucan’s little club. I’d wipe the floor with my eyes closed.” You barked out a surprised laugh, almost costing you your robes as a ball of fire came hurtling towards you. Ominis’s smirk grew into a wicked smile. Your eyes lingered a bit too long on his lips as you circled around each other slowly.

“You should add ‘comedian’ to your long list of talents.”

“Is it comedy, or just honesty?”

“Mmm, humble too.” This time you take the attack, casting Depulso, attempting to knock him prone. He threw up his shield and cast Stupify in retaliation, hitting you in the chest.

You stumble a bit, and scramble to regain your balance. Before you could react, Ominis cast Expelliarmus, ripping your wand from your hand. He followed with Accio, yanking you across the room towards him before your wand finished falling. Spinning, you land directly in front of him, feet wobbling as you hit the ground.

An arm snakes around your waist and tugs you forward, steadying you. You feel the point of a wand lightly touch your throat, and a low amused rumble come from the chest pressing against you. Looking up at Ominis’s face, you notice he’d closed his eyes at some point during your sparring, a pleased smile resting comfortably on his lips. Your mouth hangs open as you gape up at him, mind reeling at how good he looks like this. Relaxed and happy, if not a little cocky. You search for something to say, anything, when he parts his lips.

“I win.” His voice is barely above a whisper, his smile growing at your indignant huff.

“You cheated. That wasn’t a fair fight.” His arm tightens ever so slightly around you as another chuckle escapes him.

“They never are. I even gave you a handicap, and you still lost.” He opened his eyes as you clicked your tongue in annoyance, eyes crinkling around the edges as you lightly smacked his arm.

“It doesn’t count as a handicap if you’re not actually restricting yourself, you ass.” He barked out a laugh and lowered his wand, but didn’t remove his arm from you.

“You’re free to try again, if you’d like. Though I doubt being prepared this time will change the outcome.” You narrow your eyes at him.

“I’m gonna kick your ass.”

His haughty smirk morphed into an actual grin as he finally released his hold on you. “I’m looking forward to it.”

——————————————

You, in fact, did not kick his ass. The tension between you continued to grow after every round, the air growing heavy with something unnamed, calling it quits after the fourth duel.

Following that, you would sneak into the Undercroft together while Sebastian was in class, enjoying the easy banter that came without the brunette dominating the conversation. Not that it had been very difficult to hide your increasingly frequent rendezvous. Sebastian had become more and more preoccupied with his search for a cure recently, talking about his latest discoveries every time you were all together. Both you and Ominis grew more concerned the deeper Sebastian delved into the Dark Arts, often discussing how to steer him away from the path he traveled on. You’d decided to trust him to know when to stop, but you weren’t convinced when he started pestering Ominis about the location of Salazar Slytherin’s secret Scriptorium. Ominis continuously refused to tell him any information, and was just getting more irritated by the day.

Ominis was ranting to you one day after combat training, yelling about how Sebastian had kept him up half the night prior with his whining. You’d been contemplating how to end Sebastian’s obsession without potentially pushing him away, when a truly wild thought occurred to you. You tried to interrupt Ominis’s pacing and irritated grumbles.

“Ominis.” He continued on as if he hadn’t heard you, eyebrows scrunching further the more he worked himself up.

“Ominis.” You called his name a bit louder. Still no response. You could sense a whole new wave of annoyance about to explode out of his mouth, and attempted to interrupt it before he really got going.

“Ominis!”

“What?!” He whipped around to face you, a slightly unhinged look in his silver eyes.

“Stop your incessant pacing for a moment and come over here.” He narrowed his eyes and grumbled, but did as he was asked, stopping a short distance away.

“What.” He was decidedly calmer than he had been, so you excused his shortness. You took a deep breath, preparing to share your possible solution, knowing he’d object immediately, but hoping to persuade him.

“I had a thought, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.” He huffed and crossed his arms, putting all his weight on his left leg while raising one eyebrow.

“Well? Spit it out.” You rolled your eyes and took a deep breath, knowing he was acting this way out of worry.

“Alright, first of all, you can lose the attitude. We’re on the same team here. No reason for you to get pissy with me.” He clicked his tongue and looked away, but didn’t make any more comments as he waited for you to speak. Rolling your eyes again, you try to choose your next words carefully. “What if, and hear me out here, we take him to the Scriptorium.”

Ominis went to object, but you covered his mouth with your hand before he could get any words out. You tried to ignore the feel of his lips on your fingers and kept talking. “I wasn’t finished. We take him to the Scriptorium, and if we find something, we hide it before he can get his hands on it. He’ll see it’s a dead end, and look elsewhere.”

You look up into Ominis’s hard eyes and slowly remove your hand from his mouth. His arms remain crossed as he scowls, remaining quiet for only a moment longer.

“Congratulations. That was officially the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Absolutely not. How could you think going INTO the Scriptorium is a viable solution? My Aunt Noctua disappeared after entering that place, and we all assume she died terribly in her search.” You could see the sadness creep into his expression at the mention of his beloved aunt.

As you’d grown closer the last few weeks, he’d started opening up to you about his family history, and how he adored his aunt for sharing his personal beliefs. Your brow furrowed in sympathy, completely understanding his aversion to anything to do with the Dark Arts. You place your hand gently on his elbow before speaking again.

“I know, but letting him think his search is futile would be better than the alternative. I have a bad feeling it’ll only escalate if we don’t intervene.” His face is turned to the floor, and his eyes still hold the same hardness from before, but he is clearly considering your words carefully. You squeeze his elbow gently, pushing on. “It would also be nice if you could get some closure about your aunt. Maybe there’s something she left behind?” You watched his shoulders sag as he exhaled loudly. Defeated. “We stop as soon as things get too dangerous. Ok? I promise.”

He thinks for a moment more, but you could tell that you’d won. He heaves a large sigh before looking up at you, eyes searching your face as if he could actually see your expression. “Ok.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and give his still folded arm a tight squeeze. “-but, we leave as soon as I say, alright? Not a second later.” You nod in agreement and say yes, hoping the two of you would be able to pull this heist off under Sebastian’s nose.

—————————————————

The following night, you found yourself standing in a dark hallway deep in the Hogwarts dungeon. No other students ventured this far, and your only source of light were the sparsely scattered torches. Which only served to cast an eerie glow over the bricks.

“The entrance is here, but there’s some kind of trick to getting it to open. Something about three’s.”

You look around and notice two large, unlit braziers flanking the arch way towards the Slytherin Common Room. Three pairs of bejeweled snake eyes seemingly following your every movement. Looking around, you spot a similar brazier standing alone down the opposite hall. Having become familiar with the little puzzles peppered around the castle, designed to bolster your field guide, you theorized those braziers probably needed to be lit.

Taking out your wand, you cast Confringo on the lone brazier, quickly casting it on the other two after. For a moment, nothing happens, and you second guess yourself. Just as you went to ask the boys for other ideas, faint hissing traveled past your ears, and only grew louder as a door revealed itself on the wall.

Sebastian’s face holds a poorly concealed grin, giddy at the new discovery. Ominis looks like he wants to call the whole thing off here, but instead approaches the door. “Alright, we found the entrance. Now, how to open the door.” He puts his hand on it, feeling for some sort of doorknob or locking mechanism, coming up empty handed. Sebastian squeezes in next to him to get a better look and the ornate designs.

“Say something in Parseltongue.” You cock your head at Sebastian quizzically.

“What’s Parseltongue?” Ominis sighs heavily, but doesn’t look at you.

“A Parseltongue is someone who can speak to snakes. It’s a rare ability, and almost all known Parseltongues are directly descended from Salazar Slytherin.”

Sebastian shuffles his feet excitedly and stops trying to hide his boyish grin. “And we just so happen to have one standing right here!”

Ominis looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. You knew he was feeling uneasy. Walking up beside him, you grab his hand, causing him to look in your direction uncertainly. You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, ignoring Sebastian’s gaze darting between you two. Ominis squeezes back, and doesn’t release you as he starts speaking. The unknown words caress your skin as they slither through the air.

The door responds, granting access to the pitch black rooms beyond. You give Ominis one last squeeze before letting go and heading into the dark, Sebastian following close behind. Ominis hesitated, but decided that whatever was beyond the door would be best faced by the three of you. As soon as everyone crossed the threshold, the entrance closed and locked, forcing you to continue forward through the maze.

“So, what did you say to Ominis?” Sebastian came up next to you, speaking in a low tone just out of their companions earshot.

“What makes you think I said anything to him?” You kept your gaze focused on the stones in front of you, worried Sebastian would glean something from your expression. Sebastian huffed in amusement while moving some cobwebs out of his way.

“Don’t even try. I’ve been hounding him for information for weeks. I tell you about the Scriptorium, and suddenly he’s on board? Clearly something happened with you two.” You blush a bit at the underlying implication in his words, thankful for the low light in this maze.

“You just don’t have the same way with words, Sebastian. I simply put the situation into perspective for him.” Without giving him a chance to respond, you push forward, scanning each surface for a hint of what was to come. Sebastian muttered a doubtful ‘Right.’ under his breath, but dropped it for the moment.

You found several unlit torches on the walls, getting to work lighting as many as possible. There were unique puzzles acting as locks needed to move forward. You found scattered pages along the way, each revealing itself to be written by Noctua Gaunt. Handing each one to Ominis, he stores them safely in his robes to read later.

Solving the last puzzle, the three of you cross into the next room. You had a feeling this was the final hurdle before discovering the Scriptorium, but stop short after entering the room. A pile of bones lie on the ground near the opposite door, next to the word ‘Crucio’ scratched into the floor.

Mind reeling, you pivot, attempting to walk back to Ominis, only to find him directly behind you.

He’d stopped so close that your forehead nearly bounced off his chest. His face unreadable as he stares in the direction of the body, the hand holding his wand shaking ever so slightly. You take his other hand in yours, silently confirming his terrible suspicion. He lets out a shaky breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding, body tense, only worsening when Sebastian read the word aloud. “Crucio?”

Ominis sucked in a sharp breath, his grip on your hand tightening painfully.

Keeping his grasp on you, he whirled back the way you came, dragging you along with him. “We’re leaving.”

Just before you’d reached the doorway, it vanished, leaving you nowhere to go but forward. You yanked on Ominis’s hand, preventing him from hitting his head on the solid wall before you. His breaths became erratic, his hand shaking violently in yours.

“Ominis it’s- the door’s gone. We have to- we have to keep going.” You tried your best to remain calm and keep your voice from trembling. Ominis started shaking his head, tears beginning to gather in the corner of his eyes.

“No. No, no, no this can’t- we can’t- we shouldn’t- we shouldn’t have come. I knew we shouldn’t have done this. You- You promised we’d leave when I said. You-” Tears started to gather in your eyes from watching Ominis’s worst fear come true. You hated yourself for ever suggesting this in the first place, wishing you could take it all back. You hold his hand in both of yours, staring helplessly, trying to figure out how to calm his panic. Sebastian spoke from the other side of the room.

“We’re not trapped, Ominis. We just need to cast Crucio and we’re in. Since you’re the only one who’s cast it before, you should-”

“NO, Sebastian. I’ll never go near that spell again. I can’t.” His silver eyes were wild as they shot in Sebastian’s direction, a shuddering breath escaping his lips.”You need- You need to want to cause pain when you cast it. I have no such desire. I- I can’t.” You squeezed his hand as hard as you could, trying desperately to squeeze the guilt out of him. Tears were openly running down his cheeks, his expression one of pure torture, as if he was reliving the day he cast the curse all over again.

“It wasn’t your fault, Ominis. Your family-”

“That doesn’t excuse anything. At the end of the day, I still cast it, and I will live the rest of my days haunted by the memory.” You looked to Sebastian for help, but only received a gesture to come over to him. Annoyed that he wasn’t trying to help his distraught friend, you looked back at Ominis.

“Ok. It’s ok. You won’t have to cast it. We’ll figure out another way out of here. Stay right here.” You gave his hand one final squeeze before making your way to Sebastian. “What do we do?” He regarded you for a moment before flicking his eyes back towards Ominis.

“Well, I also technically know the Cruciatus Curse, but I haven’t actually cast it before, so I can’t entirely guarantee anyone’s safety. I can either cast it on you, or teach you and have it cast on me.”

You already knew the answer. There wasn't a bone in your body that would allow you to cast such a horrid curse on your friends, growing nauseous at the thought. You looked at Ominis, once again facing the wall you’d come through, and steeled yourself.

“Cast it on me.” Sebastian nodded and took a step back, waiting for you to give the signal.

“I won’t forget this.”

You took a steadying breath and nodded. Faster than you had anticipated, a bolt of red lightning was streaking from Sebastian’s wand. “Crucio!”

Your knees hit the ground as you were struck. You’d tried to hold in your screams, for Ominis, but the pain was too great. Your wails echoed loudly in the tight space.

Through your tears, you could vaguely make out Ominis crouched over, covering his ears. A small part of you thought that you deserved this for opening his old wounds, but that thought was quickly replaced with another wave of blinding agony.

As the spell began to fade, you could hear the door into the Scriptorium melt against the floor, the path open. Your body screamed in protest, but you stood up as quickly as possible and focused on the task at hand.

“Are you alright?” Sebastian wore a look of concern, and it warmed your heart that he hadn’t immediately run off into the other room. You nodded and walked inside, still clutching your ribs.

“Fine. Let’s look around inside. Sebastian, start in this room, we’ll search upstairs.” Without waiting to see if Ominis would follow, you dragged yourself by the handrail to the study on the second floor.

Casting Revelio, you spot a book lying on the desk emitting a dark and twisted aura. You pick it up and examine the cover, identifying it as Salazar Slytherin’s spell book. If Sebastian wanted anything in this room, it would be this book. You hear footsteps coming up the stairs, pulling you out of your thoughts, whirling around, you recognize Ominis’s blonde hair ascending the staircase.

As he reached the last step, you whispered his name, beckoning him closer. You started hurriedly filling him in when he got close enough. “Ominis, this is Salazar Slytherin’s spell book. We can’t let Sebastian find it. Help me look for a place to-”

“Does it still hurt?” You sputtered in surprise.

“Does what still hurt?”

You could see deep set worry in Ominis’s brows, his lips turned down in a sorrowful frown. “The curse. Does it still hurt?”

You blinked slowly, not quite understanding his train of thought. “Um, well yes, but that’s not important right now-”

“Yes it is. Of course it is. How could that not be the most important thing right now?” His hand took your unoccupied one gently. His other came up to lightly stroke the side of your head, tucking his thumb gently behind your ear, barely touching you.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to experience that torture.” You could feel his breath on your face from how close he’d gotten and how breathy his voice had become. “So sorry.”

His face shone with regret, wishing he’d been able to spare you this pain. You squeezed his fingers, about to reassure him that you were alright, when you heard Sebastian call up to you.

“I haven’t found anything useful down here! What about up there?” You were ripped from the intimate moment by the realization that you still had a job to do. You cursed under your breath and looked around, seeing a book of similar size on a top shelf behind Ominis. Casting Accio, you pull it towards you, placing it in the spot the spell book previously occupied. Thankfully, it filled the outline in the dust well enough to avoid suspicion. There was no time to stash the book in your hands, hearing Sebastian climbing the stairs, calling for you both. You look at Ominis wildly and shove the book into his chest.

“Tuck the book into my waistband.” You let go of the book, forcing him to catch it before it fell to the ground. You quickly grabbed the back of his neck and yanked him down toward you. Pausing only briefly to apologize.

“Please forgive me.”

“What-” You didn’t give him time to ask what you meant, hoping that he’d figure it out. You pulled him the rest of the way down and crashed your lips together clumsily. He stood there frozen until he heard Sebastain call for you again, almost to the top of the stairs. Ominis wound his arms around your waist, underneath your cloak, tucking the spell book into your waistband like you’d asked. Making sure it would be secure until you could move it to a safer location.

You could hear Sebastian stop short at the top of the stairs and just stare. Both you and Ominis pretending you hadn’t heard him, continuing to kiss. You started losing yourself in the blonde’s mouth, realizing how much you liked kissing him. His hands clutched your waist, pulling you as close to him as possible, seemingly becoming as lost as you. One hand came up to cradle your cheek, thumb stroking just under your eye. Your fingers found their way into his hair, lightly scratching his scalp and tugging slightly on the short strands. Ominis groaned into your mouth and deepened the kiss, licking at your bottom lip needily.

“OK, that’s enough. What exactly is going on here?” You tear your mouths away from each other in genuine surprise, having both forgotten Sebastian had been standing there. He raised an eyebrow, regarding the both of you as you stayed intertwined.

“Uh, well, the um, the pain from the, the curse hadn’t fully subsided yet, and I needed a…distraction.” You hoped your half baked lie would be enough to fool the brunette, but you weren’t very confident.

Sebastian's eyes flickered back and forth between you two, definitely suspecting something was going on, also noting that you had yet to release each other. Ominis’s body curled protectively around you, shoulders hunched as if to shield you from Sebastian’s gaze. He closed his eyes and shook his head, deciding that he wasn’t willing to deal with this right now.

“Right, well were you able to find anything of importance, or have you just been snogging this whole time?” You and Ominis finally realize you were still cradling each other, and jump apart. You looked down at the floor blushing, gesturing to the book on the desk. Ominis was looking anywhere but you, trying to hide his blush behind his hand. Sebastian eyed the both of you as he walked over to the book. You didn’t know what book you’d summoned from the shelf, but you hoped that it was something less dangerous than the spell book. Sebastian flipped through the pages, seemingly satisfied.

“A book of rare potions. This could definitely prove useful.” With that he snapped the book shut and turned towards the exit. “Let’s get out of here. We’ve all had enough excitement for one day.” He started walking without waiting for either you or Ominis. Exiting, the back of your hand brushed Ominis’s, silently promising him that you’d take care of the book. He nodded slightly and you bid the boys goodnight, quickly heading for the Room of Requirement, thinking of places to stash the tome.

—————————————————-

You didn’t see much of the boys for a while afterwards. Trials set by the Keepers and your academic responsibility pulling you in too many different directions to have much free time to spend with your friends. Ominis wore a constant face of worry when you were around, repeatedly asking if you were alright. You did your best to reassure him that you were just busy, before apologizing and hurrying to your next task.

Ominis hadn’t realized how much he enjoyed your company until he didn’t have it anymore. He craved it, and was struck with how much he missed you. He didn’t want to be selfish and ask you to carve out time to spend with him in your outrageous schedule, so he settled for keeping a close eye on you whenever you were near.

Thoughts of the Scriptorium floated through his mind constantly. Wanting to know why you’d thought to kiss him, and if you’d let him do it again. Sebastian had stuck his nose in the potions book you’d found, and had yet to come up for air. He wished there was a way to take some of the burden off his friends shoulders, but came up short every time.

After completing all of the Trials, you now had a fairly good grasp on the ancient power you wielded. You’d listened to all the warnings from the Keepers on the responsibility of this power, and you swore to use it wisely. However, there was one thing you needed to accomplish, preferably without the Keepers ever finding out. Surely removing a curse was more acceptable than removing emotion, but you thought it best to keep it secret.

That’s how you found yourself in Feldcroft, standing outside Sebastian’s uncle’s house. You knocked on the door lightly, praying that Anne was home alone. She opened the door and greeted you cheerily, inviting you in. You glanced around and didn’t see anyone else, which was exactly what you needed.

“Hello!! It’s been too long, thank you for the visit.” You smiled warmly and sat down at the table.

“It’s great to see you, Anne. How’ve you been? Have you seen Ominis or Sebastian recently?” She joined you sitting at the table, wincing a bit in discomfort before settling down.

“I’ve been well. As well as I can be anyway. Fortunately both Ominis and Sebastian have paid me a few visits since we last spoke. I believe they’re actually on their way over shortly.” You nod quickly, realizing that you didn’t have much time.

“Alright, we’ve gotta do this quickly. Anne, I can help you, but you can’t tell a single soul what happens here. I need you to trust me and not ask questions, ok? Explaining would take much too long and put you in too much danger. Please, please just trust me.” You looked her in the eyes, willing her to say yes, so you could accomplish your goal before the boys arrived. She bit her lip and studied the table, nodding hesitantly, and then more resolutely.

“Do it. Uh, whatever ‘it’ is.” You breathed out a sigh of relief and took out your wand, placing it over her heart.

“Take a deep breath.” She did as she was told, and you began to pull the curse out of her while she exhaled. She had a slight look of discomfort but remained still until you were done. She slumped back into her chair as you placed the curse in a jar, to dispose of when you returned to the castle. You could see the color already returning to her face as you studied her, making sure you hadn’t messed up in any way.

She had her head down quietly, and you were about to ask if she was alright, when you saw teardrops start falling into her lap. Panicking, you reach for her, afraid something was wrong. Suddenly her head shot up and she beamed at you, smiling so bright you thought you might end up blind.

“The pain, it’s- it’s just…gone! Thank you. Merlin’s beard, thank you. I can’t ever repay you for what you’ve done.” You shushed her with a hug, glad to see the girl Sebastian spoke about come back to the surface.

“You don’t have to thank me. Just promise me, if anyone asks, tell them it was Sebastian. One of his potions, or something. Please, keep this between us.”

She nodded and wiped her eyes with her hand. You wanted to say more, but heard the tell tale signs of the boys arguing as they approached the house. You got up quickly and cast Disillusionment on yourself before whispering to her. “I was never here.”

She nodded again as the door opened, both boys walking in. You waited until they went to greet her before slipping out the front door, creeping away. You could hear Sebastian’s cries of joy as he held his sister close, asking her a thousand questions.

What you didn’t notice, however, was Ominis watching you slink away down the path. Disillusionment never worked on him, his wand detecting a person’s mass. He’d accidentally exposed many hidden persons, often getting them into trouble.

He listened to Anne and Sebastian talk, wondering why you hadn’t stayed, but as Sebastian grilled Anne, he could hear the slight hesitance in her voice. He turned in their direction, watching Anne wring her hands under the table, something she did when she was lying.

She glanced over at him, noting his silence, in stark contrast with Sebastian’s excited chatter. Noticing how closely he studied her, she looked away quickly, laughing nervously at Sebastian, who was too wrapped up in his own excitement to notice.

Suddenly, it dawned on him what you’d done. He knew the rules you’d broken, the danger you’d put yourself in, and he wanted to weep. His emotions were everywhere, a part of him wanting to stay and celebrate, but a larger portion desperate to fly back to the castle in search of you. He struggled to get his breathing under control.

Anne could see the change in him, and shook her head, eyes wide, begging him not to say anything. Ominis took a few deep breaths, striding over to her quickly. He pushed Sebastian out of the way and enveloped Anne in his arms, squeezing her tight.

Sebastian wormed his way in between the two, joining the relieved embrace. The three of them sat quietly, and there wasn’t a dry eye when they’d finally pulled apart. Laughing through their tears, the boys regaled Anne with their latest escapades, excited for her eventual return to the school.

You sat in the back of Ominis’s mind as he celebrated with his friends, longing to share this moment with you, but understanding why he couldn’t. He resolved to find you as soon as they returned to the castle, eternally grateful for the risk you’d taken.

____________________

Sebastian and Ominis only spent a couple hours with Anne, wandering back towards the castle in the early afternoon. The boys parted ways after entering Hogwarts, Sebastian walking leisurely toward their Common Room.

Ominis didn’t even wait for Sebastian to turn the corner before taking off. He checked all of your usual haunts, failing to spot you anywhere. He started checking the classrooms to see if you’d maybe gone to speak to a professor, all coming up empty.

He made his way to the Astronomy Tower, having already checked the other classrooms, wondering where you could have possibly disappeared to. He passes a blank portion of wall, stopping at the light sound of metal on brick. Turning, he watches in awe as a door appears, beckoning him forward.

He opens the door slightly, cautiously sticking his wand in first, mapping the room beyond. His eyes widened as he yanked the door open, and taking a few hesitant steps in, he disappeared inside.

The room was enormous. He subconsciously wondered how his wand had never picked up such a huge space. He could hear the faint call of gulls and running water, sensing another large room down a nearby hall, but unable to glean any details.

There didn’t seem to be anyone else there, until a house elf appeared next to him, startling the blind boy. “Oh, Master Gaunt! What a surprise! What can Deek help you with?” Ominis looked from Deek, to the room, and back to Deek.

“Wha- What is this place, um…Deek?” Deek smiles at him kindly.

“It’s the Room of Requirement, Master Gaunt! It sometimes appears to students in need. What were you looking for when it appeared? Maybe Deek can help you find it!” Ominis blinked. He’d been thinking about you. His thoughts had been a jumbled mess, unsure what to even say when he finally found you. During his search, Ominis had considered keeping his knowledge to himself, but ultimately decided to come clean. He hadn’t thought he could keep his emotions in check enough to come up with a convincing lie. His heart was pounding too hard with a driving need to see you, the feeling only increasing the longer you evaded him.

He relayed his intentions to Deek, who smiled widely back. “Well! You’re certainly in the right place. They’re right down the hall, should Deek show you?”

Ominis shook his head and thanked the elf, walking quickly into the next room. There were plant pots and potion desks lining the walls, a pleasant scent hanging in the air. Ominis scanned the room, spotting you over by a truly massive Chinese chomping cabbage. He had no idea they could get that big, but there you were, petting it lovingly, unafraid.

He has no memory of walking towards you, not entirely in control of his body. You turn around, bumping directly into his chest, and let out a surprised gasp. “Fuck! Who- Ominis! You- Merlin's beard, you scared me. How did you-“

Ominis drops his wand on the floor carelessly, hands coming up to cradle your face reverently.

“Thank you.” His lips land on your forehead first, kissing the skin slowly. You make a small noise of surprise, but otherwise are unable to speak.

“Thank you.” He kissed your left eye, voice barely above a whisper. Your hands unconsciously rest themselves on his forearms, gripping them slightly.

“Thank you.” You feel the delicate press of his lips on your right eye.

“For saving Anne.” He kissed the bridge of your nose tenderly, before skipping your lips and kissing your chin. “For saving Sebastian.”

He looks at you with hooded eyes, stopping a hair's breadth away. Thumbs caressing your cheeks lovingly, pausing only for a moment. “For saving me.”

You shake your head slightly. “I didn’t-“

“You did.” He runs his thumb along your bottom lip, brushing it ever so slightly. He hadn’t realized until this moment, but you had indeed saved him. He’d lost so much so quickly, and was on the path to losing whatever he had left. Anne was gone, and Sebastian was killing himself to get her back. Ominis had felt like he was drowning. His friends, who were really his family, were fading. There had been nothing he could do to stop it, but…you did. Self sacrificing, stubborn, beautiful you. He knew he was done for. He wanted to fill his lungs with you, leaving no room for anything or anyone else.

The air hung heavily between you, the tension almost stifling. Ominis gently brushed your nose with his.

“Can I kiss you?” Ominis spoke the words into your mouth, his voice needy, waiting for your answer.

“If you want to.”

He let out a shuddering breath, and inched impossibly closer. “Desperately.”

Pressing your lips together, he kissed you slowly, savoring each second. He groaned, pulling away briefly, only to come surging back with renewed vigor. Ominis’s hands slid down your sides, coming to wrap around your middle. Your arms came up around his shoulders, fingers carding through his hair, tugging at the strands. Ominis gasps, pulling your hips impossibly closer, grinding his lower body into you.

He tears his mouth away from you, but doesn’t go far. Leaning his forehead against yours, you both take some time to catch your breath. He recovered faster, and started gently scattering soft kisses around your neck and jaw, continuing his ministrations while he spoke. “I don’t- I can’t articulate how grateful I am. You’ve done- Merlin’s beard, you’ve done so much for me. How would I even begin to repay you?”

You’re roused a bit from your dazed stupor at his words, tilting your head down slowly to look at him again, shaking your head. “Ominis, there’s nothing to repay. You owe me nothing.”

Ominis took a step back and sunk to the floor, kneeling in front of you. You had to grab onto the table behind you to avoid collapsing. You were rendered speechless at the sight of Ominis, on his knees before you. His hands rested on your outer thighs, thumbs stroking back and forth idly.

He looked up at you with unadulterated adoration, his sightless eyes searching for you longingly. “You saved my family.” His fingers tighten ever so slightly on your thighs.

“I owe you everything.” Leaning forward, his lips placed a light kiss on your left thigh, scorching you through the fabric. He moved to kiss the other thigh just as tenderly, a shiver racing down your spine in anticipation. Hands creeping up to rest on your hips, he pressed a couple more kisses into your stomach, face nuzzling you here and there.

“I’d spend the rest of my days showing you how grateful I am,” his chin came to rest on your stomach “if you’d let me.” Eyes hooded, boring into yours, you move your fingers to brush his cheek ever so slightly. He leaned his head fully into your palm, an edge of desperation slipping into his voice. “Please, let me.” He turned his face, kissing the palm of your hand, whispering into your skin like a prayer. “Please.”

You can hardly breathe. Your heart, pounding faster than your first time flying on Highwing. The sight of this beautiful, refined, proud man begging on his knees was something straight out of a muggle romance novel. You cupped his other cheek with your hand, bending over and pressing a firm kiss into his soft lips. He groaned into your mouth, chasing you as you tried to pull away. Indulging him for a few more seconds, he whines as you actually pull away this time.

“Ominis.” You pant his name into his mouth, he gasps and unconsciously rolls his hips forward, looking for friction.

“Yes, darling.�� He looked like a man starving. His hands had tucked themselves behind your knees, trembling from the effort of maintaining a sliver of his composure.

“Ominis I-”

“I’m heading out to run a few errands for Professor Weasley, do you or Master Gaunt need Deek to get anything?” You and Ominis were startled out of your private little world, jumping apart for fear of Deek seeing you in such a compromising position.

Your brain fought through the foggy haze it'd settled in, and quickly answered Deek. “We’re ok Deek. Just talking. Take your time! No rush to come back.”

You waited until you heard the elf apparate out of the room, looking around for somewhere to conceal you both, should Deek return too soon. You hear the familiar sound of the room changing itself to accommodate your needs.

Ominis yelped and covered his head, and you spotted a door forming on the far wall. The door swung open on its own, revealing a spacious bedroom on the other side.

“What the hell just happened?” You turned back to Ominis to see him peeking out from under his arms comically, in great contrast to his previous behavior. Ominis lowers his arms at the sound of your amused laughter, pouting a bit. You brush the back of his hand with yours and he quickly captures it in his.

“Uh, well, it seems like the room thought we needed a more…private place to finish our conversation.” You looked away blushing, but quickly turned back when you felt an impatient tug on your hand.

“I can’t find it. Show me.” You could hear the barely contained neediness in Ominis’s voice. Realizing Ominis didn’t have his wand, you start searching the ground around you.

“Ominis, your wand-”

“Don’t care. We’ll look later.” Getting impatient, he starts dragging you in a random direction.

Laughing once more, you redirect him towards the open door, spotting a fully furnished master bedroom, attached bathroom and all. Ominis waits for the sound of the door closing, before crowding you against it, trapping you with his body. His hands cradle your face once again, forcing you to look into his stunning silver eyes. He looks like it pains him to keep your lips apart, but he resists the temptation with furrowed brows, waiting. “Well?”

You want to laugh at his ridiculous question, but your voice comes out closer to a sob. “Do you even have to ask? I think you know very well that I’m yours, that I have been for-” He didn’t even let you finish before slamming his mouth down onto yours. Hands quickly trailing down to your thighs before hoisting you up to wrap your legs around his hips. You exchanged pleased sighs and hungry moans, your tongues dancing to the tune.

You fought to stay together as long as possible, becoming lightheaded as your lungs screamed for air. Ominis only tore himself away to suck in a deep breath, panting a desperate ‘I love you’ against your lips before diving back in. You lost track of how long you stayed entangled, exchanging I love you’s between sweet kisses and gentle touches, your intense fervor for one another slowly cooling to a low simmer.

At some point Ominis had carried you to the bed, where you currently lay facing each other, basking in the other's arms. Your fingers ran through his hair as he placed lazy kisses on your neck and collar bone, purring a quiet ‘I love you’ after each one. You sighed contentedly, thinking about how far you’d both come from that very first meeting.

You laughed quietly to yourself, prompting a curious hum from Ominis, who continued his slow ministrations.

“You wanna know something?” Your voice was barely audible, afraid to break the peaceful atmosphere too soon.

“What’s that, my darling?” Ominis whispered the words into your shoulder, placing a light kiss on it right after.

You fought to keep the shit eating grin off your face, not wanting Ominis to get suspicious at the change in your tone. “The day we first met, when I came over to help you with your assignment?”

“Mhmm?” Another kiss behind your ear.

“Sebastian actually caught me staring at you.” You huffed out an amused laugh. “He’s very protective, tried picking a fight with me.” Ominis chuckled with you, running the tip of his nose along your jaw, quiet for a moment.

“What were you thinking about?” You smirked to yourself, knowing you’d caught him.

“When?” You put on an innocent act, pretending you didn’t know what he was asking.

He huffed another amused laugh against your cheek. “When you were ogling me shamelessly across the library.” His hand was gliding gently down your arm, coming to rest on your hip.

“Well…” You finally allowed the wide grin to spread itself across your face, making sure he’d be able to hear the taunting lilt to your voice. “I was thinking about how pretty you’d look with your dick in my mouth.”

Ominis barked out a surprised laugh, pulling you tighter against him and hiding his red face in the crook of your neck. You could feel the wide, happy grin he pressed into your skin, shoulders shaking with laughter. He brought his teeth to your ear, biting it gently in retaliation, causing you to squirm as he trapped you against his chest.

“You naughty thing.”

#ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #garreth weasley #hogwarts legacy #romance #fanfic #ominis gaunt x reader

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psychedelic-ink · 3 months

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ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ⸻ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒

ㅤㅤjoel miller x f!reader

⌜HOW MR. MILLER STOLE CHRISTMAS MASTERLIST⌟

genre: enemies to lovers, romance, fake dating, minors dni

word count: 5.2k

chapter summary: unlike what you thought, the rumor hasn't been dying out and with a new game plan in mind, you go to seek out Joel.

warnings: age gap, fake dating, mostly fluff, drinking, small town gossip, people talking about the age difference, another heated kiss

**dividers by @saradika

You’re a fucking idiot.

A moron.

A fool.

Fucking small towns. Of course, rumors would spread. Of course, everyone would start talking about seasoned survivor Joel Miller and his new young lover. You shudder at the thought, unable to identify if it’s a bad shudder or the kind that makes your stomach flutter. You hate the idea of Joel being right. He’d said people would talk. And newsflash, unlike what you had thought, the gossip hasn’t died out.

There are two fundamental reasons why neither you nor Joel can just shrug it off, saying it’s not true. The first reason is that both Steven and Marc saw you being shoved up against a wall, passionately locking lips with Joel. The second reason is the fact that no one would think the twins were lying.

Again, this wouldn’t be an issue if you didn’t have a past to hide. People would start digging if you told them the rumors were only that. Rumors. They would start asking questions like where the two knew each other from. And you knew for a fact that Joel doesn’t want people digging either. People knew what kind of man he was, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they will turn a blind eye to him killing the last hope of human survival.

Snow crunches under your boots, your body sweating despite the cold. Tommy’s place finally comes into view. You pray he hadn’t heard any of the rumors, as impossible as that might be.

Some part of you believes that if a time ever comes when everyone finds out what Joel had done, you'll stick up for him. You’re the only person who knows the way of the firefly. How easy it was for them to kill when they thought they were the heroes. In the end, he spared you, it was hard to hate a person who allowed you to live. No matter how much he regrets it now.

On the porch, you stare at the door. It’s weathered for the most part, some parts fixed and polished but not the whole thing.

You knock loudly two times, it doesn’t take long for Tommy to open the door, his lips curling instantly when he lays his eyes on you.

“Well well well, look who it is,” he says too cheerfully, you’re already rolling your eyes. “The good old sister-in-law! Can you tell me why I had to hear about you and my brother tying the knot from Wellington?”

Jesus fucking Christ, Wellington knows? No wonder this bullshit isn’t dying out.

“We’re not married Tommy.”

“Yet.”

“Just tell me where he is, matchmaker.”

He raises an eyebrow, his smile melting, “You don’t know?”

It takes you everything for you not to take deep heavy breaths. He’s making this exceptionally hard. You had a plan. And that plan meant you and Joel wouldn’t be an item in the near future. For said plan to work, however, no one needs to know it was fake to begin with.

“I don’t have his schedule, Tommy, and I wanted to surprise him with,” You press your molars together and lift your bag, forcing a smile. “Baked goods.”

Tommy is full of glee again, “Awwww how fuckin’ sweet. Didn’t know you had it in ya Pecan.” Before you can answer, he points to the bag. “I’ll give you the information for one cinnamon roll.”

You give him a deadpan look, mouth opening and closing like a fish. You’d only gotten two and you were looking forward to it. Instinctively you pull the bag back, hiding it behind you. “No.”

“Come on, pay up, or else I ain’t tellin’ you.”

“Fuck, fine. You’re a mean one.”

“If you say Mr Grinch I’m taking two.”

“No!”

He grins widely, perfect straight teeth coming into view. As he leans forward to snatch the bag away, you get a whiff of his scent and witness how perfectly his dark locks fall forward. Fuck, what kind of super genes did the Millers possess? How are they both so effortlessly attractive? It’s sometimes easy to forget that Tommy can be classified as good-looking since the two of you tend to give each other hell most of the time. But during those short moments where you get a good look at him? It’s devastating.

Tommy holds out the bag and stuffs the cinnamon roll into his mouth, his jaw moving.

“You really not gonna share it with Maria? It’s a miracle your spine isn’t broken from sleeping on the couch.”

He takes the roll out of his mouth and takes a proper bite, “I’m a fuckin’ delight to be around and she’s not home.” You take the bag and as you do, stick out your tongue. “Brat. Your loverboy is at the tree farm cuttin’ up trees. Tell him I say hi and he should find me later.”

“I’m not his secretary.”

“It’s almost like you want me to take all your treats.”

The smell of pine fills your lungs and you’re grateful. You adore the smell. The freshness and sweetness of it mixing with the crispness of snow. You’re honestly amazed at how organized the tree farm is. Tall, lush pine trees in perfect order as you walk between them. Lights have been strung up temporarily, the wires that tie them together so thin that it almost looks like they’re hanging from the sky. They must look beautiful during the night.

It takes you a while to find Joel. He’s in the back and you approach him silently. That wasn’t your initial intention, being snuck up on is never fun. But the way he’s chopping wood makes your insides feel all runny and warm. You didn’t know he additionally chopped firewood as well. He lifts the axe and throws it down, sweat beading on his forehead. The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up, exposing the sinewy muscle of his forearms to your gaze. He cuts down another log, it becomes two in one swift motion. Your mouth dries and tongue rushes out to wet your lips. Your mind cruelly reminds you of the night you kissed him, how good it had felt to have him pressed against you, claiming you—

“Why don’t you bring a damn camera next time, it’ll add to the whole stalker pervert thing you have goin’ on right now.”

Okay. He’s joking. Joking is good, right? Joking means that he doesn’t think about covering your face with a pillow while you sleep. Your body tenses, the soft hairs scattered across your body rising with attention.

“Sorry,” you blurt out, the two of you standing only inches apart. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you but we need to talk.”

“I was wonderin’ when you’d come by. Sucks to be wrong doesn’t it?”

“How was I supposed to know people had nothing else better to do than talk about our non-existent relationship.”

Joel suddenly throws the axe down, impaling the sharp end into the wood, you jump, adrenaline humming in your ears. He ignores your very fair reaction and peels off his gloves, turning towards the bench, “Gee, only if someone had told you that people would talk.”

“Yeah, okay I deserve that.”

He sighs, “What do you want?”

“Like I’ve been saying since the day I realized who you are: to talk.”

“Fine. I was about to take a damn break anyway. Come on, now.”

You both sit on the ice-cold bench, he leans over and picks up a thermos. You’re surprised when he also pulls out two mugs, placing them on top of a clearly handmade bite-sized picnic table. Without a word, you quickly place your offerings as well, at least the ones Tommy had let you get away with, two cheese-stuffed bagels and one cinnamon roll. You frown when you look at it. You really wanted that roll.

“What’s this?” Joel asks, filling the mugs.

“I thought you’d be in better spirits with a full stomach.”

You almost earn a hint of laughter but the sound is quickly swallowed down. The traces of his smile still linger on the corner of his lips, “Well, at least you’re not dumb enough to come empty-handed.”

Ignoring him, you place your cold palms around the mug and take a sip. The fresh taste of lavender and honey coats your tongue. Your favorite. “Huh, weird,” you mutter.

“What? Does it taste funny?”

“No no. It’s just. . . Lavender tea is my favorite.”

“Go figure,” he takes a sip and scowls. “I’d rather have coffee.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think you were a tea-loving man.” He grunts and picks up one of the bagels, taking a bite. “About the whole dating situation, I have a plan.”

He doesn’t acknowledge what you’ve said so you continue, “The plan is we fake it for a while, act like a couple, make everyone gush over us, then we break up, saying we wanted different things. That way no one digs into our pasts.”

“This is the weirdest way anyone has ever asked me out.”

You snort, “I’m not asking you out. The key word here is fake. Because if we just say we weren’t dating at all, people are going to wonder why you had me up against a wall. And unless you want to tell people you were threatening me. . .” you give him a look but he’s staring at the horizon, chewing thoughtfully on his bagel. You think he’s scowling but you’re not sure. “I think this is the best way.”

He swallows the last bite and glares at his mug before taking another sip of his tea, he wrinkles his nose. “How would we have to be around each other? I haven’t exactly been datin’ around that much.”

“I was six when the outbreak happened. I’m pretty sure your guess is better than mine.”

That finally catches his attention, his eyes widen, the furrow between his brows deep, “Six?” he repeats.

“Yeah.”

You’re used to people being surprised. Most like you haven’t survived. And your references to the past always made you seem older than you were, you preferred it that way. The less people could guess about you the better. Your mom and dad always paid extra attention to tell you about the world before the cordyceps, reminding you that a life like that could still be your reality once again.

“Was. . .” Joel swallows, pulling you away from your parents. You reach for the other bagel and start eating, giving him time so he can just spit it out. “Was that your first kiss?”

There is something in his voice, an emotion very similar to guilt. You swallow your bite.

“No. It wasn’t.” And that’s all you have to say about that. It seems to be enough because he visibly relaxes, his shoulders dropping. You change the subject. Quickly. “I’m thinking we hold hands a bit, kiss each other on the cheek, and stuff like that. We can come up with rules if you want but I think it’s pretty straightforward.”

He nods. An oddly comfortable silence stretches out. You finish your bagel and drain the rest of your tea.

“We should probably split this,” he says and pulls out a knife from his belt.

“Oh. . . you can have it.”

Joel chuckles, it isn’t quite a laugh but you still take it as a win. “I saw how you were oglin’ it. I ain’t gonna risk you biting my head off,” he cuts it into two and offers you the bigger half. A smile brushes against your lips. “Why didn’t you just get two?”

“I did!” you gasp, forgetting that the two of you aren’t lovers, not even friends. “Tommy took one as compensation for telling me where you were. By the way, he wanted me to tell you hi and that the two of you should meet up later.”

“Why ain’t he lettin’ me know his damn self. I know he ain’t doin’ shit today. You’re not my secretary.”

“That’s what I said!”

Another chuckle. You’re acing this.

“I’ll get him to pay you back, don’t worry.”

“You don’t have to,” you laugh. “It’s just a roll.”

“Well, you’re my girl now, aren’t you? It would be unboyfriend-like of me not to avenge my girl. If we’re gonna fake it, might as well do it right.”

My girl. Your cheeks grow warm. You know it’s not real, and that deep down he most likely despises your existence that threatens his peace but still, it’s good to belong. Even if it’s not real. Even if it’s a lie. Your brain tricks your body into feeling whole for a brief moment, that internal coldness you’ve been feeling since the day your parents died melting ever so lightly, the warm water that drips over the icy exterior, warming your stomach.

“Tell him he owes me two then,” you say, barely above a whisper. “The bakery rarely makes them you know, cinnamon is hard to make.”

He nods but doesn’t add anything else. The crinkles soften at the corner of his eyes, lips looking soft and pliant. You might’ve even dared enough to say that he looks at peace.

You stand and leave, taking a mental note to bring him more treats from now on.

You successfully fool yourself into believing it’s for his sake and not yours.

Joel enjoys the cold. He always knew he would but was never allowed to say it since he never lived in the cold. He hated that argument. Sure he lived in Austin his entire life but that didn’t mean he didn’t ache for a bit of chill. Even at the end of the world, when he barely had enough to cover his back, he found himself enjoying the little things. The fresh, crisp air, the snow crunching under his boots.

The silence.

Sometimes he wonders if he likes it so much because it reminds him of death and considering all the seasons, winter is the one where he is closest to it. Closest to Sarah. He does hope she’s someplace warmer now. He’s not a man of faith, but for her, he’ll believe there’s an afterlife where nothing but good and butterflies exist.

Joel also feels closest to her when he’s with Tommy. His brother is the only one who knew her, the good in her. He was the one who was there when the world was stripped away from such a kind being, and he was there when she was buried under the world she could always see the best of.

As Joel walks up to the porch the brothers' eyes meet, it’s true that uncles resemble the kids. Sometimes if the light hits him just right, Joel could see a bit of her in him.

“You owe her two rolls,” Joel huffs, sitting on the empty chair beside Tommy.

“I don’t know what she told you but we had a very fair exchange, I don’t owe your little girlfriend shit,” he grins, not noticing the way Joel frowns at the label. “Nice to see the guard dog in you hasn’t died out.”

“I ain’t a guard dog.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Just bring her two tomorrow and I’ll owe you one favor.”

Tommy’s grin only widens, “You must really want to impress her.”

Joel fights the urge to roll his eyes. This whole arrangement is going to be a pain in the ass, he can sense it.

“Fine, tell pecan I’ll have her goods Friday. I doubt I’ll be able to wake up early enough to get it tomorrow but you owe me one Joel.”

“Why the hell do you call her Pecan anyway? That ain’t her name, you dumbass.”

“It’s because she has a hard shell but nice and soft on the inside.” Joel’s shoulders raise and he swallows thickly around the knot forming in his throat. He remembers the way you tasted on his tongue. How soft you were against him, no hard shell in sight. Tommy has no idea just how soft you are and can be. His cock twitches under the denim. He hates himself for it. “You should bring her to the party tonight.”

“Huh?”

“That party, Joel,” Tommy playfully smacks his shoulder. “Don’t tell me you forgot already. You promised to come.”

Oh yeah. Fuck. He really doesn’t want to go and deal with all the eyes he already knows will be on him. And you.

“Yeah, ‘course I remember. I’ll be there.”

“Just you?”

Joel sighs, “And her. We’ll be there.”

“You know, I’m truly happy for you brother. You deserve to be happy with someone who appreciates you.”

The words sting but he can’t do anything about it. He looks away, eyes staring at the snow-covered trees. “I don’t like being at the center of attention.”

“It’ll die out. The lonely bachelors are just jealous. Don’t mind them.”

Joel doesn’t need to ask to know what he’s talking about. You’re nearly half his age, six when the damn world came to an end. He knows people are wondering how the hell an old man like him got a girl like you, as if your age is the only reason to be with you. Not that he would know. None of this is real after all. You don’t appreciate him like Tommy suggested, maybe grateful for not putting a bullet between your eyes but that’s pretty much it. The same goes for him. He doesn’t know you—other than that you enjoy lavender tea with heaping amounts of honey and cinnamon rolls.

“I won’t, Tommy. No need to worry.”

When you hear a loud knock at the door, you’re staring at your reflection in the mirror. Ever since the kissing mishap with Joel, you’ve been a bit more conscious of what you look like. You’ve never had a reason to care much about it before and you’re not sure you like being this aware of every little flaw now.

Walking to the door, you’re not sure who to expect. You don’t have many friends other than Tommy and Maria, you’re already on alert, grabbing a small knife from the kitchen. Old habits die hard.

What you weren’t expecting is to see a distressed Joel Miller.

“Didn’t figure you knew where I lived.”

“I’m the brother-in-law of the woman in charge, of course I know where you live. I know where everyone lives.”

You lift an eyebrow and lean against the door frame, his eyes drop to the knife but fear is the furthest thing in his features, “Still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“There’s a party at Tommy’s and he wanted me to invite you.”

An involuntary groan escapes your lips, Tommy knew you didn’t want to go. The fucker.

“And let me guess, I have to go because we’re a couple.”

“Don’t give me attitude it was your idea, not mine.”

He’s right, “Fine. Come in and I’ll change so we can leave.”

“What’s wrong with what you’re wearin’ right now?”

You try not to hide yourself behind the door as his eyes sweep you from top to bottom. Inherently, there isn’t anything wrong with what you’re wearing. It's just your typical jeans, sweater, and a dark green flannel thrown on top. You’re warm and cozy.

“Isn’t this a party?”

“What do you think they’ll be wearin’? Suits and fancy dresses?”

“I guess you’re right, I’ll get my jacket.”

Feeling warmer than normal, you lock the door and the two of you head to Tommy’s. “So, should we. . . talk about what we’re gonna do or say?”

“Say?”

Joel shrugs, “You know, if they ask us how we met or somethin’.”

“I think half the town knows how we met, Joel.”

“A’right, so our story is that I helped you down, had a couple of drinks, and decided we like each other?”

“Sounds iron proof to me.”

“This is fuckin’ stupid.”

“I don’t see you coming up with any plans.”

“Wouldn’t even be in this mess if not for you.”

The harsh bite in his tone makes you take a step back without thinking. You’ve seen this man kill with ease. He’d admitted to regret leaving you alive. Fear is an irrational thing. It’s something that lingers and stays even when the initial threat has been evaded. You’re still afraid despite knowing you don’t have to be. You’ve been enjoying your little talks, you’ve been enjoying spending time with him. Internally you’re conflicted and confused.

Joel slows down along with you, turning and checking just how far you’ve fallen behind. He stops and turns, eyes taking in the furrow of your brows, the running of your nose. You don’t flinch when he touches your cheek, his gloved hand soft against your skin. He’s so gentle. So gentle that it almost hurts.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you. Promise,” he lets out a steady breath, fixing you with a leveled gaze. “I might not trust you or even like you, but I won’t hurt you.”

Your eyes widen, heart thudding loud enough that you’re positive he can hear it. Without a word you nod, tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. Joel nods back. His hand deserts your cheek and he locks your arms together, tugging you along the snow.

You believe him when he says he won’t hurt you. As foolish as that might be.

Two hours into the party and still all everyone can talk about is Joel and his new girlfriend. Even goddamn Maria had asked about it. Joel is still recovering from his sister-in-law’s interest in the matter. You were a definite natural in faking it. Unlike him, who was already exhausted from it all. It’d been a long couple of hours of holding hands, standing close, and kissing cheeks.

He’s holding a glass of the finest whiskey he’s ever had since the world ended, surrounded by familiar faces and his brother. You had scurried off somewhere. To the bathroom, he thinks. Or helping Maria with organizing. He probably should’ve asked, but he’s not used to questioning people unless it’s Ellie. But since the two of you are “dating” he suppose he should’ve.

“Yo Miller.” Joel fights the urge to groan as Wellington approaches with a raised hand. He slaps him on the shoulder, his cheeks and nose red and warm thanks to the alcohol. “You gotta tell me your secret.”

Joel sends Tommy a questioning gaze, his bother only shrugs. “‘Bout what Wellington?” he sighs.

“About catchin’ such a fine piece of ass.”

Joel’s shoulders raise, nostrils flaring as anger boils in his gut, but before he can get out a word Tommy intervenes, “Wellington.”

“What?” he slurs, turning to the younger Miller. “We’re all thinkin’ it. How old is she huh? Like half your age?”

Joel feels sick when the man grins. Wellington ain’t lying, you are half his age. Realistically, someone like you would never go for him. An old man who’s lost so much in his lifetime. But of course, he can’t say that, he can’t say anything that might out them as liars.

“Shut your goddamn mouth,” Joel grunts, pushing Wellington’s hand off his shoulder. “Or I’ll shut it for you.”

“I’d say money but that don’t exist anymore,” Wellington continues. “So what is it?”

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up—

“Joel?”

Your voice cuts through the tension like a knife. Everyone who’s in-ear shot of the conversation stills, an icy cold wind enveloping all of them, including Tommy. Joel recognizes the look of worry in his brother’s eyes. The older Miller swallows thickly as he rips his glare away from Wellington—he’s surprised that despite the amount of alcohol in his veins he looks ashamed.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

You shudder in a way only he notices. You’ve been doing that a lot lately. Your body subtly going straight and then relaxing. He wonders how much you’ve heard, or rather if you heard.

“I need some help in the kitchen, could you?”

“Uh, yeah sure. Of course.”

He ignores Tommy’s snicker and follows you through the crowd, away from the sight of Wellington and others. You stop at the threshold of the kitchen, not going in. You lean against the door frame and look away. “Sorry, I don’t actually need help. It just looked like you needed saving.”

“That bad, huh?”

“If looks could kill, Wellington would be dead thrice.” You say it so nonchalantly that he smiles, Joel mimics your stance and leans against the other side of the doorframe, leaving only little distance between you two. “What did he say?”

So you didn’t hear. Good.

“Nothin’ that you need to concern yourself with. He’s just buggin’ me, that’s all.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Didn’t really look like it was just buggin’.”

The subtle accent change at the end of your sentence makes him laugh, you shake your head but he sees the way your lips quirk into a smile.

“You makin’ fun of me sweetheart?”

“. . . Maybe.”

“That’s the type of talk that’ll get you in trouble you know.”

Your smile widens into a grin, “With whom?”

“Keep it up and you’ll find out.”

It’s been a long time since he felt like this. The enjoyment of the tug and pull. Heat spreads from the small of his back and reaches all the way to his groin. You must’ve had a couple of drinks before asking for him. You lean closer, your lips deliciously curled as mischief glimmers in your eyes. He wonders if you thought about the kiss. How close your bodies were that night.

“Be careful Miller,” you say, rolling your tongue over each syllable. “Almost sounds like you want me to keep it up.”

God, that he does. He’s starting to get hard. Without even thinking he leans a bit closer as well, tilting his head as if he’s about to kiss you. Your eyes flash with something expectant—

“KISS!”

The delicate moment shatters with reality. You’re not flirting, you can’t, because technically you’re already dating. Joel hates the way you flinch at the sudden crowd shouting. His head whips towards them, only to see Tommy taking charge, he points to something above and both of your heads snap up like a cartoon.

“Mistletoe,” he says. Lowering his gaze, he gives you a quick smile. “You know what that means, right sweetheart?”

You roll your eyes, “I do, jerk.”

“Brat.”

He almost laughs at the way your lips quickly wound shut. The crowd is getting restless.

“Don’t y’all have anythin’ better to do?” Joel quips.

“Nope!”

The echoes of kiss kiss kiss only get louder from there. Joel sighs, “I don’t think we can escape them.”

“If I had a penny every time we had to kiss to appease a crowd. . .” you whisper. He expects you to continue but you don’t, instead you place your hands on his cheeks, holding him gently. You come closer and as does he, his hands slide to your hips, tugging you flush against him.

You’re so soft. Softer than he deserves.

Unlike the first time, he takes the lead. He pushes you until your back is pressed against the doorframe, he claims your lips with a need he fearfully admits he doesn’t have to fake. He squeezes your hips, the sound of the crowd awing them fading into the background. It’s just his lips that move, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to feel your tongue against his. To feel the quiver of your naked body as he fills you to the brim, kissing you and telling you just how much he enjoys being inside you.

He swallows your tiny moans and whimpers, and as he breaks away, he pulls at your bottom lip with his teeth. You’re breathless when you meet his gaze, sharp eyes glazed over with a fog of arousal.

Then, as the crowd claps, he presses the side of his face against your ear, “Just a taste,” he whispers and feels your tremble underneath his palms. “Of what’ll happen if you keep it up.”

“That was one hell of a party,” you muse. You’re staring at the dark horizon, snow gently falling from the sky. Joel pushes a warm mug of tea between your hands.

“It’s still goin’ on,” he says.

“You’d die if you just let me live in my blissful bubble wouldn’t you?”

“Sure would.”

You let out a snort as he settles near you, your shoulders brushing against one another. You have to admit, it’s been a fun night—and not only because of the kiss. That was just a bonus. A very hot and steamy bonus.

It felt too real to be fake. Too real to be nothing. Years you had been alone and now you were sampling what it meant to have someone care for you, to tease you. He doesn’t even know you yet you two fit together like a glove and a hand. Makes you wonder how different this could all have been if he hadn’t been Ellie’s father, and you hadn’t been a part of the Fireflies.

“Oh good you’re still here.” The two of you turn to see Tommy, his cheeks a little flushed and his breath a little uneven. “I need to ask you two somethin’.”

“What now?” Joel groans, prompting a smile from you.

“You heard of the new family in town? The one with two kids?” You have no idea but Joel seems to know who they are. He nods. “We don’t have a house ready for them yet so I was thinkin’. . .” his eyes flicker between yours and Joel’s, your stomach going tight with worry. “You two can live together till we’re finished with the construction.”

“What?”

The question leaves your mouth before you can properly register. You turn to Joel but much to your surprise, he seems unfazed.

“Just for a while,” Tommy says. “I just figured since you two are already datin’. . .”

Joel ignores his brother completely to fave you, “Your call sweetheart.”

Seeing him so calm makes you ashamed of your initial reaction. You’re not even sure why you reacted so brashly. It was a simple request. A logical one.

“Yeah sure, that’s okay,” forcing a smile, you turn to Tommy. Joel’s touch is soothing behind you, hand rubbing small circles at the base of your spine. A welcome comfort. “Just let me grab my things and you can set them up tomorrow.”

“You’re the best, pecan,” Tommy glows, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. “I’ll give Maria the good news.”

Joel’s hand deserts you almost immediately when his brother is out of sight. It makes your heartstrings tug. “You sure about this?” he asks. “It would be fine if I lived alone but Ellie is a curious one and she’ll figure it out if we ain’t convincin’ enough.”

“In all honesty, I had completely forgotten about Ellie,” you let out a deep exhale. “But I guess that’s fine. I’m sure we can pull it off. It’s not like I could say no.”

His gaze softens, “You could’ve asked to stay somewhere else.”

“No. . . It’s fine, Joel. Really,” you crack a smile. “I feel like I should be asking if you’re alright with it. You’re the one with the problem with me being around Ellie.”

“I’ll have my eye on you two,” he says a bit too quickly for comfort.

Your tongue sours, “I’m not going to tell her anything.”

Joel doesn’t say anything. Or even acknowledges that he’s heard you. He leaves you on the porch, following his brother’s footsteps, you’re left with nothing but a lukewarm mug of tea.

Then you notice it’s lavender.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfic #hbo the last of us fanfic

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pursuitseternal · 5 months

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“Persuade Me,” Ascended Astarion tells you, a sub!Astarion, all tied up for you in “The Rogue You Were”

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader | E | 3.9K persuasive dom/sub bdsm smut

Summary: He’s so terribly stubborn, it will take a lot of persuasion to get him to come around. All tied up, it should be easy, but no matter how *hard* it is, it will be… delicious for you both…

CW: bondage, sub!Astarion, tender confessions, possessive and stubborn Ascended behavior, persuasive bedroom techniques so effective, he tells you the reason he can’t let you out of his sight, why you are not just… some… spawn…

Based on “Just A Drop🩸”

Read on AO3 | Astarion fic Masterlist

How will you persuade him…

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

“I’m sorry, but I haven’t seen Lord Astarion all morning,” you give your most convincing look of worry, of concern and confusion. Eyes wide and brows furrowed, painted lips pouting as you close your dressing gown tightly around your body. “Perhaps try the grounds? Everyone knows he enjoys a good stroll in the dawn…”

And with that you shut the door in the poor trembling servants face. A brief flash of relief on their fearful countenance that dismissing them and shutting the door on them was the worst you did. You hear their poor feet skitter away. And then, you turn with a deep, contented breath to view the sight stretched in your bed.

Yours. And his.

He’s waiting. Patiently. Spread wide and tethered to the four posts of your bed frame, and most of all, your mouth waters to see that hardened, twitching, eager cock proudly erect.

Just as you left him.

Only now, his eyes are drawn, half-lidded, his tongue licking his lips.

“They will get suspicious eventually, darling,” he croons, all the tones of confidence as you draw alongside the bed, dropping your thin, little dressing gown to reveal you pale figure again.

“Let them,” you purr right back. “They wouldn’t dare enter without my permission,” you cock your head flirtatiously, “or yours. But since you are… tied up with other matters…”

“Puns, darling,” he groans, face twisting in a sour show of distaste.

“…they will just have to take my word for it.” You laugh slowly, sitting yourself beside his hip, a single finger tracing through the ridges of his stomach. Ignoring his little taunt, savoring his submission as your willing plaything for now.

“Liar,” he croons rolling his body to press against your ass, where you are perched almost out of reach. “You said Lord Astarion isn’t here,” he’s growling. Provoking. Straining against his binds that are restraining both him and his ever-growing magic.

You give him that wide-eyed innocent look, scanning the room, a show of searching, a pantomime that only makes him sneer playfully and shake his head. “All I see is my lover, my Vampire Rogue, who is being rather stubborn about all this,” you sigh as you swiftly roll to brace yourself above him, perched on your hands and knees to hover over his taught form. Tantalizingly close.

He groans, trying to lift himself to touch any part of you. But you are clever, you’ve played enough games on the receiving end of such pleasurable punishments to know just what you wish to do.

“I am allowed to be stubborn when what you ask for is reckless… painful… dangerous…” he’s snarling below you, his chin jutting up to make his shining fangs all the more fearsome.

“It has been months since the end of our adventures,” you reply in calm and steady tones, “months of solidifying our power, of eliminating the traces of our enemies and assuring alliances, even with old friends…” you think of Wyll, new Duke Ravenguard, and the tenuous agreement to turn his literal blind eye on most of what Astarion does. Trusting you to be the one to keep him in check from anything horribly nefarious.

“You think my consort… my queen… should wander the streets of Baldur’s Gate alone? Unguarded? Like some….”

“Adventurer and hero?” you interject.

“I was going to say commoner…” he sniffs, disgruntled.. “You’re so much more than that now, my love. Let me free and I’ll show you just how special you are… how regal and unique…”

You skate your fingers down the hard lines of his stomach, barely ghosting their way towards his straining erection. “Mmmmm my love, you’re always so good at persuading with your body, I’d like to give it a try.”

“You can try, darling…” he swallows his grunt as you finally touch him, just the pads of your fingers tracing up the underside of his cock. “But you’ll find my tongue is better suited to other… pursuits… than merely trying to give you my word.”

“I’ll take my chances,” you simper, you pout, lowering your head to place a gentle kiss at the joint of his hip. “I think all you need is the correct incentive… the sweetest persuasion…”

“What you ask will certainly take a lot to persuade me, darling,” he groans. “If you think I’m about to allow you to go without an escort around the streets of Baldur’s… hngf…”

You suck him hard, taking in as much of his straining, painful erection as you can until it jabs at the back of your throat and makes you gag. But that’s it. You release him with a deafening, sloppy pop. Meeting his eyes, they are glassy, his teeth bared in a grimace of pain. Or pleasure.

“Hells,” he whines, bucking his hips erratically off the bed, even with his legs tethered and spread as they are.

“You want to rethink that assertion, my love?” you preen, crouched beside him, nested in the bedcovers.

“Never,” he growls, a playful smile on his full and pouting lips. “But I’ll join in your game all you want, darling. You’re burning for my cock as much as I am for you and all your deliciousness.”

“Is that so?” You simper, slowly lowering your mouth back down to hover above his aching erection. The closer you get, the more he betrays his anticipation as it twitches. You barely run the tip of your tongue around that ridge of its head. “Just a simple acquiescence to the little thing I ask of you… just to walk beyond our palace…”

“Not without me,” Astarion’s eyes flash, his fangs glinting in the morning light that seeps through the window. “Never alone, my pet…”

You take him in mouth lips again, loose and sloppy, just a bit of wet and warmth to tease him before you dodge away, avoiding the thrust he attempts to make for some relief. “Ah, ah,” you scold with a simpering pout, “we ask first before we start fucking faces, my love.”

“May… I…” he clenches his beautiful white teeth, forcing his words through them, “fuck… you?”

“No, but thank you for asking,” you taunt, running your tongue up that grooved underside, letting it linger along the intricate map of veins that weave around that hard, throbbing length. “Once you agree, then I’ll be more than happy to let you in… somewhere…”

He lets out a ferocious growl, a smile still playing around his lips, eyes craning above his head to inspect your bindings. Even as they tingle with a little magic, a little extra assurance against all his mighty vampiric powers now. “I swear, if I could shift into my newest form…”

“Your cute little bat?” you grin, laughing loudly as you take him deep enough into your throat to feel the vibrations of your throat. Then, you release another strong suck with a pop. “What would you do, make a nest in my hair?”

He laughed at that, low, dark, and rolling. “Tempting,” he hissed back, “nothing short of what you would deserve, darling.”

“To wander without needing to wait for you to be free from your rule… your duties?” you return your attention to that glistening cock with a hungry grin, “I’ll take my chances again.”

He squirms as you barely graze it with your lips again, just little nipples of that smooth, stretched skin up and down its shaft. “Please, darling, please,” his voice grows desperate, edged with need, “give me just a little of your body.”

“And in exchange?” you croon, gracing him with one last lingering suck and swirl around that blunted tip.

“I will take you where you wish to go,” he groans at the continued release, your little reward of rhythmic bobbing over his length as you take him satisfyingly deeper. “To hells with duties, if that is your wish.” Tone softening, he bucks into your mouth, his timing as always impeccable, jamming that slick hardness down your throat as you lower. You sputter and gag, your throat closing around him before you can lift away.

“Naughty,” you chide him gently, frowning with a hint of a smile as you creep to dangle your body over him, all hands and knees and swinging breasts. Breasts he’s licking his lips for as you draw nearer.

“Just a taste, darling,” he flashes those wide, pleading eyes up at you, “I swear I only need a little…”

“Mmmm, I’ve heard such beautiful lies before,” you raise yourself onto your knees, straddling those clenching muscles of his belly. A single one of your finger slips inside your own folds, and you let him hear just how wet you are. It squelches, sloppy and thick as you tease yourself. You ride over his belly, locking your half-closed eyes with his, wide and burning and dilated as they are. “Good rogues get the spoils,” you pant, letting yourself thrust those fingers into your dripping folds harder, faster. You spasm, riding your own hand, feeling his belly rise and fall against your thighs and cunt as you pleasure yourself.

You can hear the bed groaning, the wooden frame creaking loudly as he pulls at every binding. It makes you lick your lips, eyes fluttered shut to savor the way he’s writhing between your thighs, shaking as he comes undone to watch you panting. Always watching as you begin to come, trembling and moaning as you shatter, your arousal pooling over his belly. As you try to catch your breath, you let him look into your gaze, that feral, barely-bridled glow of red in his eyes. You feel his cock throbbing against your ass, twitching as you make the slightest of contact with where his is in deepest agony.

It makes you smile wickedly, leaning forward to proffer your slick and dripping fingers for his lips. You need not say a word, not when he opens, straining against his tethers to suck you clean. Every lap and lick of his tongue, he feasts on your cum, little noises of feeding in his throat, the same he has always made, lips bruising your neck in the wee hours of night.

You tug them roughly from his mouth. “Enough of that from you,” you chide, smiling. Taunting. “I give you a little, and you still have yet to give me my due, my love.”

He grins, licking the corner of his lip. “You still haven’t figured it out yet, have you, my darling… my treasure…? Have you stopped and thought, perhaps, why I won’t let you wander aimlessly into the open, outside of my protection?”

“Because you just can’t bear to be without me…” you tease him, a wicked smile on your face as you place a quick kiss on his insolent lips. He fights for you not to break away, his teeth biting into the swell of your lower lip. “Selfish lover that you are…” you mumble as he tries to devour you all the more.

“Naturally, my little love,” he pants as you raise up, a hand firmly pushed on the base of his throat. “Has it not always been so, darling? Your ferocious rogue always at your side? But now, my sweet consort, have you ever wondered why I can’t resist being just oh.. so… possessive of you?”

You pause, tilting your head, considering. You wait for an answer, but those full, smirking lips of his just press silently together.

“Oh, you wish for me to draw out your answer,” you needle him, an edge of irritation in your voice now.

“Isn’t that the point of your charming, little game?” he presses, tugging at his bonds to make them snap with tension.

“Then let’s play,” you smirk, neck taut as you cock your chin, posturing with all the dominance you can muster.

“Anything to get some wet part of you on my cock, my love…” he arches his body as you slide off his belly. “If you please,” he adds, extra silken temptation in his tone.

“You haven’t been good, but I suppose you require more persuasion,” you hum, “and perhaps you could use a more convincing sight. Until you tell me exactly why you insist on being my constant escort, at least.”

“You’re clever,” he hisses as you begin to turn your back to him, hand gripping that throbbing shaft, his pulse pounding beneath that smooth skin. “If you can defeat the Absolute, the Netherbrain, it should be easy for you to puzzle out why your vampiric lover can’t let his consort out of his sight for a moment…” He groans as you straddle those narrow hips of his, one hand sweeping his cock through your drenched folds. “No matter how powerful… or insolent she may be…” he adds, a deep-throated growl on every word, a snap as he taunts you.

You let him dip slowly inside you, barely taking more than the ridge of his tip between your thighs. Hands gripped on his knees, you feel his legs shaking, trembling to finally find some relief as you fuck him leisurely. A gentle sway, an agonizingly slow riding. And never enough to let him sheath inside you fully.

A mischievous smirk on your lips, you glance over your shoulder. His teeth are grit, his eyes darkened with lust and wide as he cranes to watch your ass, the gradual, rhythmic rise and fall as you pleasure him with total control. “Powerful, am I?” you gloat, taking him just a little deeper.

It makes him hiss, his eyes shutting as sweat begins to dampen his forehead.

“More than you realize,” he gasps, voice grating as he forces his eyes open to drink in the sight of you. “More than I have ever admitted to anyone… to you.”

“Tch,” you suck your teeth in that way he always has, “how sweet, my love. Is that why you keep me here, keep me at your side always? For my power?”

“Don’t forget your beauty that would launch nations into battles for you, my treasure…”

That makes you smile, makes your stomach flutter in expectation, and for your own sake, you take him in, all the way, until you feel the slap of his thighs between your legs.

He roars, pulling on his binds on this hands and feet to make the wood of your bed groan almost as loudly. “Please,” he spits, “do that again, darling.”

“Tell me more reasons, and I just might,” you toss over your shoulder at him, making him feel only the tip of his cock piercing you again.

“Why don’t you think, clever girl?” he hisses, trying to buck into your cunt, to reclaim that little hint of wet and pressure you gave him.

“Because I am your equal?” you grind with every thrust, letting your walls clench as you take him just a bit deeper.

“Yes…” he pants.

“Because you just can’t bear to be so far you can’t smell just how aroused you make me…” you giggle, splaying a hand behind you, over his navel, pressing against those hardened muscles of his belly as you sink all the way down.

“Gods, yes…” he’s groaning, licking his lips as you let him fill you at last.

“Because you’ve given me your power, extended your blessings…” you cant your hips slowly, still drawing him along, but he can only sigh, at last feeling the tightness, the wetness he’s sought for so long now.

“Not just my blessings and power, darling,” he cranes his head back into the bed with a sated sigh as you ride him. Even slowly.

But you pause. Clambering over his hips you spin around to face him, cock still sunk inside you, a hand gripped around the lines of his jaw, his chin, to make him look at you. “What do you mean?” you bite.

“Don’t you recall, clever girl?” He’s laughing under your hold. “That night, your final night… what more did I give you?”

Your mind races, your hips grinding, that need now built inside you too, finally feeling filled to bursting, his cock twitching as it drags right over that perfect, secret spot between your walls.

“Free me, if you please, so I may remind you…” he’s crooning, purring as you fuck him. “Please,” he adds, a little extra seductively, his face twisting in that way that makes your stomach knot as it always has. You spread your hands beside his head, eyes narrowed to see him gloating so smugly under you. His little order sends ripples of anticipation down your spine to pool even hotter where your bodies join.

Your hand shakes, your body now riding him of its own accord, even as you reach for the binding around one wrist to slip it off his pale skin. Instantly, his hand grabs your wrist, pulling it to his mouth as he sinks his fangs into your flesh. You groan, the wave of painful pleasure tearing through you hard enough to make you come. All you feel is his lips drinking you in, his cock throbbing as you spasm and ride him still through the clenches of your orgasm. You’re so full, so taken, so overwhelmed.

And he’s laughing, swirling his tongue over your dripping blood.

“Blood,” you breathe through your climax.

“Not yours,” he growls before biting into his own wrist in the same way. Then, he proffers that flow of his blood for your own lips to taste. “I gave you mine… I made you mine.”

You suck your fill, the tingle of his power, the rush of all that he is, all that he has always been, filling your belly.

“You are not some spawn, darling,” he smirks, that secret dancing over the full pout of his lips. “Your vampire lord gave you his own blood.” His words reach your ear through the euphoria of drinking him in. Suddenly, his hand pulls from your hungry mouth, fingers clawing around your throat. He presses, just enough to make your eyes wide as you swallow under his strength, his hold pulling you down so close to his handsome face. “Even a drop given to you, to turn you, it makes you mine… my consort, my bride, my vampire lover forever, beyond the touch of time itself.”

“Not spawn?” you rasp through his hold on you, a pleased, pleasured smile flickering around your lips as he stares with such longing and adoration up at you.

“No,” he purrs, “but it means I will never let you out of my sight, my power, my protection, so long as we walk this earth. I would rather burn the world to keep you with me forever than risk losing my bride for an instant….” You tremble, you gasp at the ferocity in his gaze as he pulls you down by your throat until your lips crash into his. He feasts on your mouth, groaning at the taste of how your bloods mix and mingle into an intoxicating flavor. Rich. Powerful. United.

Inseparable.

“What a good, good master,” you simper into his kiss. “You shall be rewarded…” You touch the binds again, they all go limp as he shakes them off. He growls his pleasure. He touches you everywhere, fingers sliding from your neck to claw into the hairs at the nape of your neck, nails grabbing for your hips. Legs now liberated, the muscles of his thighs bunch as he starts to fuck hard into you from beneath, feet planted firmly on the bed at last.

“Thank you, my dearest love,” he grins widely, wickedly at you. “I hope I need not persuade you to trust me. Never again forget what it means to be mine…”

“Your bride,” you simper, tasting the title on your tongue, face quirking in a slight and knowing smile. “And that makes you my hus-”

“Your master,” he lifts his head, the weight of his hand at your nape pressing your mouth back down, barely brushing his taunting smirk. “Your lover… your mate or spouse or what have you behind closed doors only.” Then he bites into your neck, fangs piercing like the razors they are. A loud moan slips from your lips as you shiver and shudder in orgasm again from the pain and pleasure. His voice cuts through just as sharply, “And you may only call me husband… three times… for all eternity…” His tongue laps the blood that spills from your veins and down your shoulder now. “Choose wisely, my dearest darling.”

You fight the pull of your pleasure, the need to go limp and just let him fuck you. Not after your hard won victory. So you pull from his mouth, pushing that controlling hand at your neck back down to the bed. “Of course, darling,” you give a naughty smirk, a defiant rake of your brows and flutter of your lips as you press to whisper against his neck instead. “Whatever you say, husband,” you hiss with pure, delightful insolence before you bite him back. Now it’s your mouth that makes him squirm, your control that makes his shudder and hitch as he chases his climax, seeking with reckless abandon the thing that you have kept just tantalizingly out of reach.

“You fuck me like this, my love, and you just might persuade me to get used to it…” he rasps, hands grasped at your hips to keep you steady so he can pummel you mercilessly.

“Ah ah,” you tut your tongue to chide him. “Remember, good masters ask before they come inside their brides,” you gloat, feeling that truth, that connection of your blood and your undead hearts beating all the stronger for it.

“Please,” he begs harshly through gritted teeth, his fucking undeterred as he waits for your word.

He slams up into you with all the more force, his face already screwing and twisting with how close he is.

“Yes, my love,” you acquiesce with a dramatic lilt. It doesn’t take long, not after he watches you smile and feels you clench your walls around him with all your strength. He roars, writhing and spasming as he empties inside you. Buried so deep you feel the tip of his cock twitching against the end of your channel.

You gasp, your sweat dripping down your temple as you watch him begin to still and relax beneath you. But you stay, cock deep and warm inside you, his thighs beneath you soaked with your mingled juices.

“So,” you pant, letting your own body respond with its own basking in the glow of your pleasure, as you slowly lower your body to blanket him. His hand strays absentmindedly through your hair, fingertips softly brushing your cheek with each pass. “You must have lots of ruling to attend to now that you’ve persuaded me,” you murmur, nestled against the hard bone of his jaw, tracing your finger through the pooling of his blood from your bite. You bring that finger to your mouth to suck it clean. “I’ll wait for you before I wish to venture out for the day.”

“Oh,” he grips into your hair, raising your head to look at him again, and your smile widens to see the intensity, the possessive glint in his crimson eyes. “I think all that can wait. Right now, you can choose, venture out and then fuck again until you’re begging me for more? Or fuck first and then venture out into the day, my love?”

You giggle, a grind of your hips to drag over his still hardened cock inside you. “Hmm, a tough choice,” you grin, scoring your own fingers through his hair, “perhaps you need to persuade me this time…”

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kpopfanfictrash · 1 year

Text

Love to Hate (Extra Scene II: Jungkook’s POV)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre: Fuck Buddies / Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Synopsis: Born with a silver spoon in your mouth, you've done your best to rid yourself of the taste since you were old enough to walk. Occasionally though, your mother manages to rope you into an obligatory function – or a blind date with playboy billionaire, Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook stands for everything you loathe about the world you left behind, but you can’t deny the spark of attraction between you. Intrigued by the promise of mutual satisfaction, you agree to one night in bed… and quickly realize you’re in far, far deeper than you ever intended.

Author’s Note: This scene takes place during Chapter 5 of Love to Hate and is told from Jungkook’s point of view. PLEASE READ THE ENTIRE STORY BEFORE READING THIS SCENE (otherwise there will be spoilers lol).

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 6,820

This is wrong.

It’s all Jungkook can think, seated beside Giselle on his sofa, right thumb tracing the rim of his whiskey glass. Giselle’s thigh is pressed to his in clear invitation, her gaze lingering pointedly on his mouth. Were Jungkook any other man, he’d be clearly focused on the woman beside him.

Jungkook is not someone else, though. Instead, he thinks of you.

Where you are, what you’re doing and why you didn’t respond to the last message he sent. Slowly, Jungkook closes his eyes and wills away your presence. It’s unfair, being seated beside someone else and still thinking of you.

When Jungkook’s eyes reopen, Giselle watches with some bemusement. Forcing his features to relax, Jungkook tries to refocus. You’ve only slept together four times – three if you don’t count the phone sex, which Jungkook does – so he shouldn’t be thinking of you as often as he does. Granted, even three times is a lot for someone whose limit is one.

You seemed genuine though, in your desire for no-strings attached sex, and so, Jungkook acted out of character and gave you his number. His real number.

Lifting his glass of whiskey to his lips, Jungkook takes a long sip. After two hours of no response, he placed his phone on the counter and turned it to vibrate. It seems whatever interest you had in him has waned – a fact Jungkook is trying not to let drive him crazy. For the first time in a long time, he doesn’t know what someone is thinking and ironically, you’re the one person he wants to understand.

When he exhales again, Giselle’s lips twitch. “Are you feeling alright?” she asks, reaching out to rub Jungkook’s thigh. “Want me to get you some water?”

Stiffening, Jungkook fights the urge to push her hand aside. It’s not Giselle’s fault he’s thinking of another woman. Not her fault that she (rightfully) assumed he invited her over to get to know her better. More intimately.

Suddenly feeling exhausted, Jungkook leans back and lets her hand fall to the side. “I’m okay,” he says, managing a smile. “Thank you, though.”

Giselle gives him a quizzical look. Head tilted, long, dark hair cascades down her back. “Okay. I had fun tonight,” she says, tactfully changing the subject. “It was good of your family to donate so much to a worthy cause.”

“Yeah.” Hiding a grimace, Jungkook takes a large sip of his whiskey. “He’s a regular bleeding heart, my father.”

A flicker of something – annoyance, perhaps – crosses Giselle’s features, although she schools them quickly to neutrality. A practiced technique – he should know. Jungkook doesn’t blame her for feeling annoyed. He knows he’s being an ass. It’s not Giselle’s fault Jungkook invited her over and now regrets it.

He was planning to ask you to the dinner tonight.

You would’ve said no – you don’t strike Jungkook as the function type unless it’s for Clean Ocean – but he would’ve had fun with you at his side. You could’ve joined in on the mocking, unlike Giselle, who at best managed a loud spurt of laughter.

Maybe Jungkook is being too cynical. Tonight’s dinner was for a great cause, but that’s just the problem. Many families in the room caused the issues these dinners are for and could easily stop them with a few business choices. Instead, they donate a couple thousand dollars, claim the return on their taxes and pat themselves on the back for a job well-done.

Tonight was merely an opportunity for wealthy people to spend money and feel self-important; to assuage the guilt which comes from hoarding wealth. Jungkook remains unimpressed that his father dropped fifty thousand when his net worth is several million times that.

You would’ve been a breath of sincerity in that stuffy ballroom. Jungkook planned to ask you until his father pulled him aside and demanded he take Giselle. Apparently, her father owns an important packaging company and her father wanted Giselle to be taken care of.

Jungkook couldn’t help but wonder at her father’s intentions, since his reputation wasn’t exactly a secret. Still, he didn’t actually plan on sleeping with Giselle until you ditched him, which probably says more about him than about her. If Jungkook could bury his face in his hands right now, he would. Honestly, his reaction to your silent treatment took even him by surprise.

Disappointment, he expected – there’s no denying the chemistry between you – but this was accompanied by embarrassment and an odd sense of uncertainty. Jungkook has always known where he stood with previous flings. The few times he’s deigned to call someone twice, they’ve always responded.

Jungkook has never really cared about being ignored but right now, he does. He finds he cares a lot and maybe that’s why he agreed when Giselle asked to see his place. Jungkook knew what she wanted but found he didn’t care. A part of him needed it; needed to prove to himself he was still desirable – and that your rejection didn’t sting as much as it had.

This thing between you is supposed to be casual. You’d said that a few times and if so, Jungkook should be comfortable sleeping with another person. Earlier, he did some fast math and realized the last time he slept with someone else was weeks ago.

There were women after your first date, of course. Jungkook can admit when he’s wrong and he truly thought you’d break down and call within a week or so. When you didn’t, he buried himself in a long line of women – none of whom soothed the craving you sparked that first night.

He was on his tenth ‘date’ when you called, putting him out of his misery. Since that night – Jungkook’s stomach sinks again – he’s slept with a grand total of one woman. An experience so subpar, Jungkook promptly forgot other people existed. It wasn’t as though he dated for anything other than sex and with you on the table, no one else compared.

So, yeah. Maybe Jungkook said yes to Giselle to prove he doesn’t have feelings for you. Because if Jungkook does have feelings, he’s broken your rules and the moment you realize – because surely, you will – this thing between you will end. It’s as simple as that.

Except now, his gamble has backfired and Jungkook knows he can’t go through with it. Giselle’s hand on his thigh is all wrong, as is the heat he can feel from her body. The thought of moving to his bedroom, of removing her clothes – Jungkook interrupts the thought with a flinch.

And then he stills, realizing what he’s done. He – Jeon Jungkook – flinched at the thought of casual sex. Panic claws up his throat and abruptly, Jungkook pushes himself to stand.

“I think I’m done with the whiskey,” he blurts. “Want wine?”

“Sure.” Giselle sits back, puzzled as he leaves.

Striding fast into his kitchen, Jungkook drags a hand through his styled hair. Of course, Giselle is confused – who wouldn’t be with all his mixed signals? Teeth gritted, Jungkook opens his cabinet in search of red wine. One glass, and then he’ll send Giselle home. Maybe he can lie and say he’s had too much to drink.

Locating glasses and an opener, Jungkook sets these aside to stare at the bottle. He should tell Giselle to go but in a nice way. She didn’t do anything wrong; there’s no need for anyone else to be hurt tonight.

Across the counter though, he sees his phone screen brighten. Frowning, Jungkook reaches out as words fill the screen – Front Desk.

“Hello?” he says, lifting the phone to his ear.

“Mr. Jeon?” His doorman, George. “I hope you’re having a pleasant evening.”

“I – uh. Yeah.” Jungkook glances furtively at Giselle. “I am. Is something wrong?”

“On the contrary. I just wanted to call and tell you Miss Y/L/N is on her way up.”

George continues to speak, but an incessant buzzing drowns out all other thoughts. Dimly, Jungkook recalls adding your name to the guest list a few weeks ago. Dread fills his stomach as the light above his elevator brightens.

“Thanks,” Jungkook manages to say, his voice strangled. “I have to… go.”

George hangs up as the elevator dings. The next few moments seem to happen in slow motion, the doors sliding open to reveal you inside. When you see Jungkook, your entire face brightens, and he feels faintly sick at the prospect of what’s to come.

Seeing this, your expression falters as you step inside. Your gaze lowers to the wine glasses on the counter and you visibly relax, assuming one is for you.

“I – hi,” you say, walking forward. “Sorry, I just realized I should’ve called. I mean, I responded to your DM, but I – oh.”

That tiny oh is barely audible, but Jungkook feels the word like a gunshot.

Feet slowing, your gaze snags on Giselle in his living room. To make things worse, Giselle has made herself comfortable and is now watching you with a pitying glance. Jungkook can practically see the steam rise from your ears as you piece things together.

Words in his throat battle, clambering over one another – this isn’t what it looks like, I was about to send her home – but none of them wins.

“Ah.” Wobbling slightly, you step backwards. “I’m, well, shit – I’m so sorry,” you say, your voice sounding thick. “I didn’t realize. I’ll leave,” you blurt, jabbing the button and Jungkook realizes too late you’ve stepped into the elevator. “Ignore me – ignore this, I –”

The elevator doors shut, and Jungkook realizes he’s moved all the way around the counter.

From behind him, Giselle clears her throat. “Who was that?”

Ignoring this, Jungkook stuffs his feet into discarded loafers. Whirling around, he grabs his keys and catches sight of himself in the mirror – he looks wild, hair sticking up where he ran his hands through it.

“Giselle, I’m sorry,” he says, pressing the elevator button. “You should go. Now. Please, I – I’m sorry. My driver can take you home.”

Jungkook looks up long enough to see Giselle’s shocked expression. Then he turns, slamming the button with renewed enthusiasm, as though this might make it come faster. After a long moment, Giselle scoffs and gathers her things.

“Whatever,” she huffs, and Jungkook hears her move closer. “I wasn’t interested in you, anyways. I’m sure my father will be angry, though.”

Jungkook barely registers the threat, too concentrated on the memory of your stricken face. Opening his phone, he frantically scans his messages. You said you responded, but he never –

Fingers paused, Jungkook sees the Instagram notification. Opening the thread, he sees a time stamp from roughly around the same time he arrived home.

Y/N: on my way [12:16 AM]

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Whirling around, Jungkook grabs Giselle’s coat from a hook and hands it over. Ignoring her look of surprise, Jungkook ushers her into the elevator the moment it arrives. Pressing the buttons for both garage and lobby, he rides until they reach his car. Taking his driver aside, Jungkook instructs him to bring Giselle wherever she needs to go.

Jungkook sees Giselle’s eyes light up at his words and resigns himself to a very expensive gas bill tomorrow. Returning to the elevator, Jungkook rides the remaining floors to the lobby alone. As soon as the doors open, he bursts free and comes to a stop.

Spotting you across the lobby, Jungkook resumes motion. “Y/N!” he calls, rushing forward. “Wait!”

Startled, you look up and visibly wobble. Redoubling his speed, Jungkook makes it across his lobby in record time.

“Don’t call a cab,” he begs, coming to a stop and grabbing your phone.

Incensed, your eyes narrow as you try to take it back. Jungkook holds it aloft in a moment of breathtaking immaturity, struggling to come up with what to do next.

“Furst – first of all,” you huff, jumping a little. “This isn’t the 1950’s. No one ‘calls a cab’ anymore. Second” – you lunge, wildly missing the phone – “you have a girl in your apartment. I’m not trying to join in or watch if that’s what you’re hoping.”

The absurdity of this statement makes Jungkook’s lips twitch – something he instantly tampers when you scowl back. Stepping away from him, you sway and Jungkook’s thoughts are eclipsed by the realization you’re drunk.

Or – at the very least, tipsy. Scowl deepening, you stare at his lips and Jungkook is having a hard time not being a caveman and saying it’s too late to go home.

“That’s not what I’m thinking,” he says, a bit lamely.

Stoic, you hold out your hand. “My phone, please.”

This time, Jungkook hands it over. He didn’t mean to be an ass, but the thought of you leaving without him apologizing makes his innards twist. Jungkook gets the feeling if you go now, you might never come back.

“Please stay,” he insists, widening his eyes. “I already asked my driver to take Giselle home. She should be gone by now.”

“Giselle,” you scoff. “Wow, sure. My mom would love that name.”

Feeling as though he’s missed something important, Jungkook frowns. “Uh, okay. Do you want to come back up?”

Scowling, you take an immediate step backwards and wobble again. Jungkook lunges forward, trying to help but you wave him off.

“Why would I go back upstairs with you?” you demand. “You invited me to come over and then, what – you forgot?”

“No,” Jungkook says. “I invited you over and you didn’t respond for two hours! When my date asked if we could get a drink, I –”

“You were on a date?”

Maybe it’s Jungkook’s imagination, but you seem a bit stricken. He hesitates, and far be it from him to assume, but something about your expression makes him think… possibly you don’t like the idea of Jungkook with someone else.

Heart pounding, he forces himself to stay calm. You’ve been out drinking. You came all the way over to his apartment, only to be turned down in the worst fashion. Likely, whatever comes out of your mouth next can’t be trusted.

“It was a charity thing,” Jungkook says instead. “My dad paid for two plates. Y/N…” He pauses, debating how to put this before asking, “Are you drunk?”

“I had fun – a few drinks,” you huff, and Jungkook suspects it was significantly more. “But if Giselle was your date, why were you texting me?”

“You messaged me first,” he reminds you. “So, I responded. And yeah, I would’ve preferred seeing you, but you didn’t respond,” he adds, his frustration growing. Roughly, Jungkook shoves a hand through his hair. “When Giselle asked to see my apartment, I –”

“See your apartment.” A snort. “Nice.”

Limply, Jungkook lets his hand fall. “Are you seriously upset I was planning to sleep with someone else?” he asks. “Because these are your rules, Y/N.”

“Rules you agreed to. Rules I haven’t heard you offer to change,” you challenge.

Gritting his teeth, Jungkook forces himself to stay silent because he’s not sure what words might come out of his mouth. Lunacy might urge him to change the rules right here and now, and end up looking like a fool when you tell him no.

Jungkook isn’t sure what you want from him because clearly, you don’t want more than sex. In a warped way, your reaction to him with Giselle has given Jungkook some sort of confidence about your true feelings. Obviously, you didn’t like seeing him with another woman.

Jungkook wishes you would simply say that you’re jealous because then he could explain. Then he could tell you he was about to send her home, that he wanted to–

Abruptly, Jungkook stops this thought in its tracks. That he wanted to what? Call you? Beg you to come over? Realistically, Jungkook wouldn’t have done either because deep down, he’s a coward. Jungkook agreed to your terms because he’s terrified of hearing someone say the word no.

“Yeah,” he allows. “I guess you’re right.”

“And I’m not upset about that,” you add hotly. “I don’t care if you sleep with someone else, but I do care that you thought you could squeeze us in back-to-back! I –”

The sound of your cell phone cuts through the lobby.

Jungkook realizes you’ve been standing by the door, arguing for the better part of ten minutes. Luckily, no one has entered the building at such a late hour. His housing association is probably writing a strongly worded email to him as you speak.

“Hello?” you say, turning as you answer the phone.

“Y/N?”

Curious, Jungkook peers over your shoulder. Whoever is on the other end is loud, yelling to be heard over the background music. Jungkook can only catch bits and pieces of what’s being said.

“Thank the… happening… Topaz?”

Jungkook frowns, recognizing the name of a club by the beach.

“I, uh – no,” you say, twisting further. Jungkook nearly growls when you stumble – right arm shooting out, he grasps your wrist to keep you upright. “I left, actually,” you add, your voice high-pitched and strange.

Possibly because your back presses to Jungkook’s front, allowing him to feel the supple curves of your body. He forces himself to concentrate on your conversation, close enough to now hear the man on the other end.

“You left?” says the speaker, sounding shocked.

In the reflection of the window, you wince. “Um, yes,” you say, lowering your voice. “Like twenty minutes ago?"

"Who did you leave with? That guy you were grinding with on the dance floor?”

Without meaning to, Jungkook’s grip tightens. You were grinding with someone at Topaz earlier tonight. Now, your sudden silence makes sense and Jungkook is having a hard time separating the then from now. Anger flares, hot and sudden – although it disappears just as quickly when he sees your face.

It’s the same expression Jungkook wore when you came to his place and saw Giselle. Stomach twisting, he wonders if you’ve had a similar night to his. Both of you sought someone else, only to end up in each other’s arms.

“No,” you hiss, unaware of Jungkook’s inner turmoil. “I, um, left to…”

Deciding enough is enough, Jungkook reaches out to pluck the phone from your hand. Gasping, you turn around, but Jungkook ignores you. Glancing at the screen, he sees the name Hoseok before lifting the phone to his ear.

“She’s with me, Hoseok,” he says. Turning away, he ignores your futile attempts to get the phone back.

“Is this… Jungkook?”

“Yeah, this is Jungkook.”

Hoseok’s tone is suspicious, and Jungkook doesn’t blame him. Hell, he’d be skeptical of any man answering your phone, and he’s only known you a couple of months. Based on his research, Jungkook knows you and Hoseok have been friends for years and started Clean Ocean together.

“Okay,” says Hoseok, recovering quickly. “Look, I don’t really know you, and everything I have heard isn’t that great, but –”

“She’s safe here,” Jungkook interrupts, interjecting as much sincerity as he can muster. “I promise.”

Hoseok is silent, weighing his options and Jungkook feels oddly nervous. Eventually, Hoseok exhales and a weight falls from Jungkook’s shoulders.

“Fine,” Hoseok says, speaking loudly to be heard over the music. “Y/N was pounding margaritas and apparently took some tequila shots with Seokjin, so – I’LL DEAL WITH YOU LATER,” he yells, presumably to Seokjin. “Anyways, I’ll be tracking Y/N’s phone, so she better make it home in one piece tomorrow.”

Lips pressed together, Jungkook suppresses the urge to make a joke about One Piece. “She will,” he says instead. “I swear.”

“Cool.” Hoseok sounds distracted. “Tell Y/N to drink water. Seokjin, I’m coming, you ridiculous land mass –”

The phone call suddenly ends, leaving Jungkook with a dial tone. Placidly, he hands over your phone and ignores your cold fury.

“Thanks,” you huff, opening an app. “I’m just going to call myself a Lyft, and –”

Jungkook’s stomach drops. He can’t have gone through all that only for you to leave. “Stay,” he blurts before he can think of an argument. “Please.”

You look up, seeming prepared to argue but instead, slowly soften. Jungkook has no idea what’s written on his face but whatever it is gives you pause.

“Fine,” you mutter after a moment. “But just for one glass of water.”

Not wanting to press his luck, Jungkook nods and follows you across the lobby. Heart soaring, he treads in your footsteps towards the elevators. Behind the front desk, George shakes his head, clearly on your side and Jungkook makes a mental note to bring him coffee tomorrow.

Walking into the elevator, you step sideways as the doors shut. Casually, you lean against the wall and the silence between you only lengthens. Jungkook turns to face you, one ankle crossed leisurely over the other. Several times, your gaze darts to him, although you always look back.

Hiding a smile, Jungkook folds his arms across his chest.

Eventually, you sigh and speak first. “I’m sorry,” you say, not meeting his gaze. “I was… surprised when I got here and found someone else, and I – well, yeah.” You pause. “We said we’d keep this casual.”

Jungkook chooses to stay silent, wondering what else you have to say.

“Like I said,” you add, peering at your shoes. “We agreed to sleep with other people.”

You sound as though you’re convincing yourself. Pushing himself from the wall, Jungkook strides forward and comes to a stop before you. You look up, breath quickening when your gazes meet. It satisfies a base, brutish part of Jungkook to know you’re as affected by him as he is by you.

When you lean in, Jungkook stiffens but he needn’t have worried. You don’t touch him – instead, you softly inhale and somehow, this affects Jungkook more than if your lips had been involved.

“Sorry,” you blurt, and look up. “You just… smell good, that’s all. Better than – well.” Trying to regain yourself, you wince. “Never mind.”

Jungkook has never met someone able to get under his skin as easily as you do. One second, he feels in control and then next, you’ve undone him with barely a word. The worst part is you don’t seem to realize the tremendous power you wield.

When you take a step backwards, Jungkook’s composure snaps.

Reaching out, he encircles your wrist. “Better than the guy you were dancing with?” he asks, stepping forward and pressing you against the mirror.

You suck in a breath, and he feels your body melt. This fact fills him with pride, knowing someone like you trusts Jungkook with any part of your life. Gently, his thumb skims the inside of your wrist.

“Maybe,” you whisper, gaze lidded.

Jungkook’s upper lip twitches. “Was he not enough for you princess?” he rasps, returning to the familiar. “Did you remember halfway I’m the only one who can make you come as hard as I can?”

A defiant gleam enters your eye. “He was fine.”

His brow cocks. “Fine?”

“More than fine.”

“What happened to fine?”

You huff. “I wouldn’t get cocky. I can’t help but notice you got rid of what’s-her-face the second I came over.”

You’re right about that, and Jungkook doesn’t care. Throwing caution to the wind, he moves closer. “I’m not ashamed of it,” he says softly. “You’re the sweetest fuck I’ve ever had and you deserve to know that. Not tonight, though,” he adds, saying it out loud. “Not when you’re drunk and I’m sober.”

The elevator dings as the doors slide open behind him. Jungkook pulls himself together enough to step aside. Straightening his jacket, he enters the hall and removes his coat and shoes. Draping this over the chair, he heads into the kitchen.

Jungkook has always been good at hiding when he’s rattled and right now is no exception. Although he appears calm, on the inside, he’s shaking.

“What do you want?” he calls as he goes. Taking Hoseok’s words to heart, Jungkook opens the fridge. “I stocked up on food since the last time you came, so now I have ramen.”

When you fail to respond, Jungkook glances over his shoulder. Freezing in place, he watches you falter while attempting to climb onto his breakfast stool.

“You okay, Y/N?” he asks as he straightens. “Do you need to puke?”

“No,” you mumble, hanging your head.

Jungkook presses his lips together to avoid laughing. Your nausea isn’t funny, but it isn’t often he sees you anything less than immaculate. From your first meeting, Jungkook has found you intimidating. It’s oddly refreshing to see you with your walls down.

Lifting a brow, Jungkook leans in. “You sure?” he asks, making soft, retching sounds.

You groan, slumping lower. “No. But if you keep doing that, I’m going to puke in your Prada loafers.”

Snorting, Jungkook turns around to open a cabinet. Removing a glass, he fills this with water and sets it by your elbow.

“Drink,” he commands. “I’ll go get you Motrin.”

Heading down the long hall which connects to his bedroom, Jungkook listens to ensure you aren’t throwing up. Grabbing medicine and changing as fast as he can, he returns to find you seated upright, which is an improvement.

Your gaze fixates on his chest, though, which is strange.

Carefully, Jungkook places medicine by your hand. “So,” he says, clearing his throat. “Ramen?”

Startled, you look up as Jungkook stifles a laugh.

When you nod, he turns around and starts assembling ingredients. Eggs from the fridge, scallions, and other toppings. Silently, Jungkook wills himself to hold things together but it’s hard when the implication of tonight hangs in the air.

You stayed. You stayed, despite Jungkook saying nothing sexual would happen. He can count on one hand the number of times this has happened – easy to do, since the answer is zero. Such a thing has never happened.

“You don’t have to do that,” you murmur, interrupting his thoughts. “I know you told Hoseok I was here, but I can go home. I can Uber or something. Jimin is watching Dante all night, but I can leave. You know, sleep it off.”

You’re babbling. Talking in circles to avoid the wrong answer and Jungkook stares in amazement because frankly, he never thought he’d see the day. Something hard cracks in his chest, warmth spilling from a long-ignored crevice.

Turning around, Jungkook places the pot on his stove. “Y/N,” he says, turning on the burner. “I seriously don’t mind.”

“But you were about to get laid.”

He can feel his lips twitch. “I can get laid anytime.”

Even as he says it, Jungkook’s conscience protests but he ignores this. Apparently, he can’t get laid because he’s too busy thinking of you. It’s better you don’t know that, though. Safer like this, without fear of rejection.

“Sure,” you allow. “But you were about to get laid tonight.”

Setting down the spoon, Jungkook gives you a look. “As nice as it is you’re concerned about my dick, why don’t you let me speak for it – okay?”

Slightly chagrined, you sit back. Stifling laughter, Jungkook resumes prepping the food. Despite being a terrible chef, ramen is manageable and Jungkook hopes you’re still drunk enough to think it tastes okay.

“Besides,” he adds, lips tugging up at the corners, “the ego boost of you coming over tonight will last me for months.”

A loud groan escapes as you slump forward, prompting Jungkook’s laughter. Returning to the stove, he fiddles with the gas as you prop your chin in one hand. Jungkook tries not to look but can feel the heat of your stare on the side of his face.

He’s about to ask, what, when you open your mouth.

“You want me to really boost your ego?” you muse and Jungkook’s skin prickles. “Since you said I’m the best fuck you’ve ever had?”

“Yeah,” he says, trying to play it cool. “Boost my ego, I can take it.”

“Hm.” You sound skeptical – rightfully so, it turns out. “Well then, you should know you’re the same. Bar none. Actually,” you say, leaning closer, “throw out the bar. You’re the bar. Fuck, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that first time. You were right, you know? No one else has come close.”

Jungkook grips the handle of the pot so hard, he’s surprised it doesn’t break. Slowly, he takes a deep breath and forces himself to exhale. You’re drunk, he reminds himself. You’re drunk and everything you say should be taken with a grain of salt.

Still, Jungkook can’t help the current of emotion lurking beneath the surface. There’s a part of him – a large part – which wants to forget what he said, kiss you senseless and see if you crack and confess what you’re really thinking.

Stiffly, Jungkook forces himself to add the noodles. “A lesser man,” he mutters, “would ignore his moral code, bend you over the counter and fuck you right now.”

Your pupils darken, lower lip held between teeth and Jungkook knows if he asked, you would respond yes. Which is exactly why he has to be the one to say no.

Shaking his head, Jungkook looks away. “But I won’t,” he declares, lifting his spoon in the air, “because I’m a strong man who can’t be brought down by one woman’s vagina.”

You seem puzzled. “You sure?”

“No.” He levels you with a glance. “So, stop tempting me.”

You pause a beat before breaking into a grin. When you do, the sight leaves Jungkook winded and he wonders if he’s ever seen you happy before. No, that’s not it – he’s seen you happy, sure but never without walls. Seeing you smile this way is akin to the last morning mist burnt from the field.

When you wobble, nearly falling again, Jungkook springs into motion. “Shit,” he blurts, rushing around the counter.

“I’m fine!” you speak, waving him off as you right yourself. “Promise, I’m fine.”

Jungkook hesitates another moment, but eventually listens and returns to the stove. From then on, he vows to be on his best behavior, but the premise is difficult to execute. Before tonight, Jungkook knew you were smart and beautiful but now, he’s seen a side of you rarely shown. One that’s comfortable. Fully at ease, Jungkook thinks with an errant thump-thump of his heart.

Finishing your water, you unconsciously kick your feet back and forth beneath the counter. You seem softer, somehow. Less burdened – not that he dislikes how you usually are. Nothing fills him with greater pride than watching you cut an asshole to shreds. This feels special, though. As if Jungkook has been told a secret which only exists between the two of you.

“Jungkook,” you yawn, pushing forward your bowl. Forcing himself to focus, Jungkook realizes you’ve finished eating. “If I don’t find a bed soon, I’m going to be passed out on your floor within the next fifteen minutes.”

Lowering his spoon, he leans back in his seat. “I see.”

“Right.” You give him a pointed look. “So, I need to leave now. Or you won’t be able to move me until morning. Unless you carry me. Which might be bad for your back.”

“Or,” Jungkook adds, lifting a brow, “we could go with the obvious solution.”

“Which is?”

“You could stay the night.”

Jungkook genuinely thought this was obvious, but when you slowly blink, he wonders if this was so. Maybe he’s seeing what he wants to see and suddenly, Jungkook wishes he could take back the words.

Your feet are no longer swinging. “I… what?”

You don’t say this like the idea is bad, but rather like you can’t believe what you’re hearing. The warm thing in Jungkook’s chest – which had flickered – reignites.

“You could stay here tonight,” he says, grabbing the bowls for something to do. “I have a bunch of extra bedrooms, so you don’t have to stay in mine if you don’t want to. As long as you don’t mind wearing my clothes.”

As soon as the words leave his lips, Jungkook winces. He’s not sure why he said separate rooms, apart from the worry things might happen too quickly. Now the suggestion is out there though, and he can’t take it back.

“Or you can wear your own clothes, I guess,” he adds, backtracking. “Or sleep naked.” Shit. Now all Jungkook can think about is you, naked. “I don’t really know how you – I mean, we haven’t –”

“Your clothes would be nice,” you interrupt, putting him out of his misery.

Jungkook simply nods, shutting his cabinet doors. Heading out of his kitchen and down the long hall, he enters his bedroom.

“No problem,” he calls. “Why don’t you come grab a t-shirt?”

Heart pounding, Jungkook yanks open a dresser and grabs the first thing he sees. Suddenly, his mind is a master overthinker. Previous words, actions, everything that he’s done, runs through his mind on an endless loop.

Hearing you enter, Jungkook forces himself to turn around. “Will this work?” he asks.

You hover near the door, something almost tentative in the way you stand. Jungkook crosses the room, feeling as though he’s moving underwater when he hands you the t-shirt.

Fingertips brushing, you take the garment from his hands. “What do you think?” you ask quietly, laying it against your chest.

Jungkook stares at you, unable to speak. He can only watch his clothes held in your hands, struck by the certainty of how right this feels. Jungkook has never considered himself to be possessive (he’d have to care about something first) but the sight of you with his t-shirt stirs something primal.

“That works,” he manages to rasp.

Your gaze flickers once, then you nod and turn. “Can I take a shower?” you call as you enter his bathroom.

Jungkook nods, then realizes you can’t see him. “Yes,” he calls, leaning against the wall to hold himself up. The thought of you in his shower, water dripping from your naked curves, is too much to bear. “Bath products are in the far cabinet. Take what you need. Do you…” He swallows, dearly hoping the answer is yes. “Are you good to shower alone?”

If you respond no, Jungkook isn’t sure what he’ll do. Obviously, he’ll be a good human being and help you shower – but at what cost?

“I’m okay,” you call, sounding amused. “Be right out.”

The door to his bathroom shuts, leaving Jungkook on the outside. Exhaling, Jungkook drags a hand slowly down his face. After a moment, Jungkook adjusts himself and turns to walk towards the windows.

Hearing the shower start, Jungkook stops and stares at the skyline. So many thoughts run through his mind, begging to be untangled. Tonight was nothing like he anticipated and yet, Jungkook can’t help but feel he’s made some sort of progress.

For weeks now, Jungkook has been afraid to consider what his feelings might mean. The fact that he thinks about you all the time, looks forward to seeing you even when there’s no sex involved – it’s not something he’s ever experienced.

Dragging a hand through his hair, Jungkook stares at his reflection. You weren’t wrong about what you said earlier: I can’t help but notice you got rid of what’s-her-face the second I came over.

It’s true. Jungkook barely thought twice before sending Giselle home, no matter the potential cost. It’s something that would have been important to him mere weeks ago – he should probably send Namjoon a text, letting him know there’s an angry supplier on the way. Before you, it would’ve been the first thing Jungkook thought of but tonight…

Shaking his head, Jungkook refuses to finish the thought. Even if he does have feelings for you, that’s not what you want with him.

In the bathroom, Jungkook hears the water stop and slowly turns around. Seating himself on the bed, he crosses his legs at the knees and waits. When you reenter the room, the sight of you wrings the breath from his lungs.

For the second time tonight, Jungkook finds himself speechless. Slowly, his gaze drags up your body, lingering where his t-shirt sticks to your dampened skin.

“Ah,” he rasps, the words like hot coals. “You look… good.”

Good is inadequate. Jungkook wishes he were creative so he could impress you with art, poetry, or the stuff of legends. Instead, all he has is this shriveled thing in his chest which beats for you.

“So,” you exhale, clothes bundled to your chest. “Are the other bedrooms… upstairs?”

Jungkook pauses, then blinks, having forgotten he said that. Eventually, he nods and forces himself to stand. Concealing his own disappointment – he was the one who offered, after all – he moves towards the door.

“Yeah,” he says, mustering a smile. “Follow me.”

Cursing himself for being a total idiot, Jungkook enters the hall and considers how best to retract the offer. But what if this was the only reason you agreed to stay? Then Jungkook would lose all the ground he’s gained, and he can’t bear the thought of you leaving now.

He talks as he walks, pointing out different rooms without really hearing himself. There are technically three guest rooms in his place. Yoongi and Taehyung have crashed in two, but no one has stayed in the third – not even him.

Jungkook calls it his mom’s room even though she never saw it. He redesigned the room after she died, a singular place of warmth within his frigid life. Jungkook rarely enters but now, is struck by the possibility you might like this room best of all.

“And this is my favorite,” he breathes, pushing open a door. Before Jungkook can overthink it, he brings you inside and assumes a neutral expression.

Crossing the threshold, you falter. “It’s beautiful,” you say, turning to him with wide eyes. “Whose room is this? It doesn’t really look like your… vibe.”

Jungkook takes no offense, although he does wonder what you consider his vibe to be. He knows the rest of his condo has a sterile, unlived-in feel, but that’s only because he’s so rarely at home.

Opening his mouth, Jungkook realizes the only explanation he has is the truth. He can’t say what this room truly means. If he did, it’d reveal something personal and that’s explicitly against your initial rules.

Or this is what Jungkook tells himself. In reality, Jungkook has crossed so many lines tonight, the integrity of your rules have been smashed to smithereens. Explaining his mother to you though, is something he can never take back, and so, Jungkook doesn’t.

“No one’s, really,” he says, releasing a breath. “I helped the designer with it. And my room, of course, but I wanted this room to be different. Homier.”

You nod, looking away and Jungkook is grateful you don’t pry. Walking inside, your hand drifts across a sunken ottoman and Jungkook watches you move. Placing your clothes on top of the dresser, you turn and catch sight of the view.

Pulling aside the curtain, you stare at the night sky and Jungkook stares at you.

“It’s really nice,” you murmur.

“I’m glad you like it.”

Letting the curtain drop, you glance over your shoulder. “I’m sure everyone who stays here has told you that.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Jungkook states the truth, walking forward. “You’re the first person to stay here.”

Eyes wide, you watch as he stops before you. Jungkook hesitates, then lifts a hand to gently cup your jaw. Exhaling softly, your breath drifts across his palm when you shut your eyes.

Jungkook stares at your face, boldly allowing himself to drink you in. Before, he’s always insisted on distance. On the pretense of being the one in control, of pretending he doesn’t feel the incessant pull between you. Now, he allows himself to look and doesn’t conceal his expression.

Gaze dropping to your lips, Jungkook wonders what it would be like to kiss you. You kissed the first night in his car, but not since then – something which was at first, accidental but now is purposeful. Now, it feels like a bridge of intimacy that, if Jungkook were to cross, he won’t be able to return.

It’s safer this way. Sex is just sex, after all – a natural instinct Jungkook knows he’s good at.

Intimacy, though. Affection. These are things Jungkook has never tried and things at which he might fail. Lowering his face, Jungkook gently brushes a kiss to your forehead.

When you shiver, he takes a step backwards. Your eyes open, hazy with want – and something else. Something Jungkook has never seen before.

Swiftly, Jungkook turns and forces himself to leave. “Goodnight,” he says softly, shutting the door.

Dangerous, he thinks, beating a hasty retreat. Wanting you like that is futile because even if he said it aloud, you wouldn’t – couldn’t – want him back.

This doesn’t keep Jungkook from tossing and turning all night though, wishing he’d asked you to sleep in his bed.

[Series Master List]

#bangtanarmynet #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook au #bts au #jungkook series #bts series

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loveindefinitely · 3 months

Note

i care so much about the tf 141 plays valorant au who are their mains please

༊*·˚ TASK FORCE 141 — valorant au headcanons.

a/n. omg thank you its a very meaningful thing to me ALSO

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley, johnny 'soap' mactavish, kyle 'gaz' garrick, john 'bravo six' price

warnings. gn!reader, suggestive content, crack, they're all in love and stupid, attempts at humour, polyamory

GHOST as an OMEN MAIN

✩ The first agent he unlocked, and the only agent he plays. If anyone else takes him, he doesn't select at all. Is on very thin ice due to his frequent dodges.'

✩ Likes the practicality of him, how the smokes help your entire team out, and the teleporting aspect makes it more fun for him to get frags. Tries to be experimental with it to try and impress you guys, but usually fails.

✩ Does not understand in the slightest why he mid frags usually, even when you, Soap and Gaz have explicitly explained how duelists and smokes work. He just views it as another thing to conquer.

✩ Makes fun of Soap because his smokes are 'weaker'. Has been hit in the back of the head for it.

✩ When he found out that Sage and Omen were somewhat of a ship, and overheard you saying how much you wanted the 'Halloween card', he asked about dressing up as them for Halloween. (Your glassy eyed smile made the cat ears worth it.)

✩ Deliberately smokes off entry just to piss off Soap, when he starts trying to backseat too hard. Once blinded you all because Gaz said that Soap's smokes were better. (Soap just smoke-entried onto site.)

✩ [NSFW] Plays on his voice, praising you, Soap or Gaz anytime you clutch or get a good shot in. Starts straight up dirty-talking mid-game, using every single one of your weaknesses against you. Talks more than he does in person when he gets antsy, getting off to the steady breathiness of your voices as he gets more and more filthy with it.

SOAP as a JETT MAIN

✩ The most obnoxious little fucker when he plays.

✩ An absolute menace. He specifically baits you and Ghost for frags, because he finds Ghost's growing anger and your petulant huffs amusing. (He also just loves how he pays for it later.)

✩ Asked Gaz to match one of those cringe usernames with him. Probably something like 'I Blow Bubbles' and 'Bubbles'. Gaz said no and also asked him to never speak of it again. (He asked you later, and you nearly cried on the spot.)

✩ Once cried because the enemy's team Jett was a smurf, and threatened to take his girl. He worried about it briefly, then remembered all of his '''''girls''''' were just down the hall. And not impressed with a guy that had more kills in a video game than in real life.

✩ Laughs when he sees Price die, than screams when he gets shot immediately after.

✩ [NSFW] Gave you head while you played a game once, unbeknownst to the other two. Made you give comms while his fingers thrust into you, his tongue licking over your hole. Laughed against your thigh when you pulled his hair after he made you die with a cruel stroke.

GAZ as a KAY/O MAIN

✩ Used to be a Pheonix main, but got sick of Soap making fun of him for choosing the 'brit', and the one that people shipped with Jett. Told him that if he wanted him so bad, to just come out and say it. (Gaz turned off his PC at the plug for that.)

✩ His flashes are usually really good, but if Soap or Ghost make a snide remark, or Price tries to take the leadership-role, he'll flash everyone. Says it was a misclick but no one is buying it.

✩ Has watched multiple lineup videos, and takes it all very seriously. If you or Soap are bantering while he's trying to do it exactly right, he'll threaten to go to your rooms and smother you with your pillows. (Neither of you complain, and if you're feeling particularly bratty, you'll push him to his limits.)

✩ Was the first one to play Valorant, and got Soap hooked. From there, it spiralled, but he's just happy he gets to do something he enjoys so much with the people he loves so much.

✩ Definitely the most patient one of the team. He kinda taught all of you at some point, because he doesn't get pissed off as easily as Soap. Also, he just loves watching as either you, Price or Ghost start to understand how fun it is -- and start to be able to properly play.

✩ [NSFW] Has played with you sitting on his dick, letting you cockwarm him while he presses kisses into your neck. Did it while in a custom game with Soap, and whenever Soap was starting to win, he'd set the voicechat to auto, so your moans and whimpers could be heard. (Led to an unfinished game, but three finished orgasms.)

PRICE as a KILLJOY MAIN

✩ He plays KJ purely out of spite. When you three (ghost would never) first begged him to play with you, Soap, Gaz and you had convinced him to play Brim. He was not impressed when five minutes in, Soap was whining for him to try and say the voice lines.

✩ The reason he likes playing her so much is because he can spend his time setting up sites. He likes defense over attack, and it's really cute when he hums while trying to do lineups.

✩ (He doesn't tell any of you this, but part of it is that he gets to sit back while you all compete for top frag. In the field, he might take the top rank, but he likes seeing you all laugh and poke fun at each other. He falls a lil bit more in love with each of you every time threats are thrown about over comms.)

✩ His aim is shit. Like, absolutely terrible. Has complained multiple times about how the guns don't have the right heft to them, and that it's all completely unrealistic.

✩ If he goes AFK, it's to head to either you or Gaz, pick you up, sit in your seat, and just watch as you play from his lap. Just rests his chin on your shoulder and wraps his arms around your waist. Doesn't care about the penalty -- would much prefer to embrace his partner.

✩ If any of you are up late, playing, when he wants to cuddle up and go to sleep, he WILL turn off the internet just as you press queue again. Feigns ignorance, but you all know it was him. (You all pretend that you believe him, because you can't exactly decline his silent neediness.)

✩ [NSFW] When he's feeling particularly horny, he'll start prompting bets between you all. Like, whoever top frags gets to cum first, or, however many times you die is the amount of spanks you'll get. All while waiting for the inevitable pounding of knocks on his bedroom door.

A/N. this au is so disgustingly self-indulgent i am disappointed in myself. anon, even if this is only enjoyed by me and you, at least there's someone else out there that understands me 🙌 thank you for giving me a reason to rant about my silly lil thoughts. if this at all interests anyone pls lmk or give me ideas for a oneshot...

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autumnmobile12 · 10 months

Text

About the Infant Skull in the Belmont Hold

Trigger Warning: Sensitive topics below.

In a post I made last year, I pointed out the small skull in this display is case belongs to a baby.

The 'crack' down the center of the forehead is a frontal suture which closes between the ages of three to nine months, and to showcase the fact it's not just a cracked bone, the animators included a fontanelle between the bony plates of the skull, which closes before the age of two.

There is the skull of an infant in the Belmont Hold.

So what's the story here?

Theory 1: The Skull is a Vampire

This could have been a human baby that was turned by a vampire for whatever reason. Maybe this was some vampire's twisted idea of a pet. Maybe it was a horrifying, psychological trauma where a human woman lost her baby and after becoming a vampire, turned an infant into a vampire so as to never experience that pain again whilst tragically blind to the fact an immortal infant would never grow up.

If either of these were the case, whichever Belmont found this child could have viewed his or her death as a mercy. Since the baby would be immortal, it would be impractical to keep it alive forever, not to mention almost cruel because what kind of life is that? And it would be equally inhumane to leave the vampire to starve to death, so the options are limited.

The skull was brought home not as a trophy but as a specimen to study and serve as a grim reminder of a harsh reality.

...

Theory 2: The Skull is a Dhampir

Carmilla's above comment gives me the vague impression that it's not unheard of for a vampire to have a child with a human and then turn the human into a vampire, creating a family unit. (Just the way she says it. Like the unspoken line was, "You married a human, you succeeded in getting a child off her, so she was free to become a vampire after, no?" Turning Lisa after Adrian was born was the next natural step in her mind, so it baffles Carmilla why Dracula's wife remained human.) So maybe dhampirs are uncommon, but Alucard is far from the first one to ever exist.

So if the skull belonged to a dhampir like Alucard, this opens up another set of possibilities, but before I go into those, I want to address the Belmont Clan's potential view towards vampires and human-vampire hybrids. It's not clear if Alucard needs human blood to survive. He eats human food, but so do the vampires. Lenore comments they get their essential nutrients from blood, but whether or not this also pertains to dhampirs is up for debate. In the Gresit Underground Keep scene, it does look like he had some form of blood transfusion system possibly sustaining him, but this could arguably be a life and death situation. As in, he doesn't need blood to survive, but it can also save his life if need be.

There's also the possibility the blood-drinking is not the same across the board. (Say Alucard doesn't need blood to survive, but another dhampir was saddled with the shitty genetics that make blood a requirement.)

For the Belmonts, I can see dhampirs being a controversial subject. From Leon to Trevor's time, there are four centuries and countless individuals with their own set of similar but unique values and opinions, so it would be understandable for various Belmonts to have points of contention as well as shifts in viewpoint down the generations as new information about the enemy comes to light. Some members might have the stance of, "Dhampirs do not need blood to survive, are not a threat to humanity, and therefore it is unnecessary to hunt and kill them," while others may have taken the more extreme stance of, "Dhampirs are unnatural creatures that do not belong in this world any more than vampires do." Without the precedent of Alucard and Trevor having a common enemy, there would be nothing to sway the entire family one way or the other.

So if this is the case, the skull could have come from a vampire family similar to Dracula, Lisa, and Alucard's, and that family could have been discovered by a Belmont who made the decision to eradicate the them, including the dhampir for whichever reason:

The existence of dhampirs hadn't been discovered/confirmed yet, so the infant was assumed to be a vampire and it was viewed as a mercy killing out of ignorance. (Remember, Trevor thought Alucard was a vampire when they first met, so there is no visual difference between the two species.)

Dhampirs are assumed by the Belmonts to need blood to survive and are therefore a predator to humans that needs to be put down, again out of ignorance or just plain malice.

This particular Belmont was a heartless psychopath who had no qualms killing an innocent baby just for existing.

...

Theory 3: It's a Dhampir and the Belmonts Have a Really Fucked Up History With Dhampirs

There is also the possibility the mother of the dhampir child was a human woman that was raped and impregnated by a vampire. (Surviving somehow...?) In this scenario, there is a woman terrified by the idea she is about to birth a monster and goes to the local vampire experts for help. The Belmonts take her in until she delivers this unwanted child and the fate of the baby dhampir is entirely in their hands, which brings us back to the mentioned controversy among the family members.

If the mother abandons her 'monster' child, the Belmonts are left which the choice, "Do we kill it before it grows up to kill someone or do we give it a chance and let it live?"

Another possibility is the dhampir was brought up within the household for the purposes of 'studying' or 'rehabilitating' its nature. Say the family discovers dhampirs don't need to subsist on human blood and are relieved. "Wonderful. Dhampirs can live as humans and there is no need to kill them." The dhampir grows up happily among his or her adopted human family.

But then there is a tragic accident where he or she doesn't know their own strength and fatally harms a family member. The Belmonts then make the decision: Lock them up or execute them as a monster.

Based on this precedent, the family then closes off the idea that dhampirs can live as normal humans forever and they subsequently commit infanticide against any future dhampir children that cross their path, a blanket decision based entirely on a one-time misfortune.

Theory 4: The Belmonts Were Not the Cause

This again calls into question how dhampir physiology works, but maybe the infant died of an illness of failure to thrive. Alucard is strong and healthy, but that may not be same for other dhampirs, especially ones that may have been rejected as a 'freak' by both humans and vampires. He had the advantage of having a loving family and a safe environment in which to grow up. Other dhampirs might not have had the same good fortune and their health suffered for it. (Or they got dealt a bad hand in the gene pool.)

As for how the skull wound up in the Hold, it could have been one of the 'weird stuff' the Belmonts found and brought back home with them.

This could also apply to a situation where a vampire killed a rival family and kept their skulls as trophies, and the collection simply wound up in the Belmonts' treasury after destroying said vampire.

"It's like a museum dedicated to the extermination of my people, so no. Not thrilled."

Whatever the truth of the skull, I'm inclined to believe Theories 2 or 3 because this scene struck me as a very subtle nod to how no side in a war is completely innocent. On the one hand, vampires like Carmilla, Cho, Godbrand, etc. hunt and toy with humans for sport and view them as lesser beings, and so the Belmonts seeking to eliminate them would be an understandable measure to protect humanity.

On the other hand, the presence of the infant skull indicates a tragic and bloody history of poor choices, old prejudices, potential atrocities committed by the 'heroes,’ and generational trauma. A past history even Trevor isn't particularly proud of for all the pride he has in his lineage. It really showcases the line between man and monster and aligns with the recurrent theme of 'we can be better than this' that occurs throughout the series.

But let me know if you've got any theories/headcanons different from what I have listed above. I'd love to hear it. Crediting Theory 4 to @thetvpenigma. Thanks for your help!

#castlevania #alucard tepes #trevor belmont #vampire skulls #belmont hold #dhampir #questionable history #medieval prejudices #belmont family #castlevania netflix #vampire hunters #skull anatomy #dhampir physiology #speculation #castlevania headcanons #httyd

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netherese-blorb · 2 months

Text

For You

(View on ao3)

SFW (Teen) - Gale loves you more than anything. and isn’t that just terrifying.

None of you left the Shadowlands whole. Yet even among your ragged bunch, the shift you see in Gale has you worried.

It could just be your closeness that makes him stand out. Not that you don’t love the others, in their own ways. But you spent weeks studying Gale as the two of you danced your clumsy courting dance. If his shoulders sloped a hair lower than usual, or if the skin under his eyes darkened half a shade, you would notice.

Your knowledge is wasted, however, as even the least astute at camp could see that he wasn’t himself. At first, it was a general anxiety. He would flinch every time he saw the sky, as if he expected it to fall, or for a bolt to come down and smite him where he stood. Then, as he realized the ground beneath him wouldn’t give way, his dread turned to manic obsession: with the Crown of Karsus, and with you.

Through his unending monologues about the artifact’s potential, he couldn’t let you leave his sight. Not for a moment. In the rare times when you insisted on privacy, he would keep conversation through the door, or tent flap, or bush, working himself into an immediate panic if he felt it’d been too long since he heard you.

So far you’ve been more than willing to accommodate his attentions. You’ve been through a lot yourself, after all, and tending to him has been a welcome distraction.

But after defeating the Githyanki ambush, you know - he knows - it can’t go on like this.

You knew it was a risk, coming within melee range of a fully armored enemy. But the surprise attack didn’t give you time to prepare your ranged spells and your final target was weak enough that, if you were lucky, you could finish him off with one swing of your newly acquired magic sword.

But you weren’t lucky. Your unpracticed movements were clumsy and your shimmering blade skittered uselessly off of pristine silver armor, leaving you wide open for your foe’s much more experienced counterattack.

You heard Gale’s desperate shouts long before you registered the pain of the blow.

You turned to him as you staggered back and saw his twisted expression illuminated by the sparks growing between his hands.

Lightening Bolt. Your eyes dart to Shadowheart, who was struggling to maintain concentration through her own injuries.

And standing in the direct path of Gale’s attack.

He’s not looking at her. He doesn’t see. Nothing in his once-gentle face but blind fear and blind fury.

You manage to counterspell his move just before it can reach its unintended target. Shadowheart startles and whips around to Gale, who returns her horrified expression. With everyone, including your enemy, distracted, Astarion is able to deal a final sneak attack with his crossbow and put the battle to an end.

Little is said in the moments after it's over; a few healing words to stitch wounds back together, simple instructions to ensure loot is distributed, but the long walk back to camp begins and ends in silence.

It’s only hours later, when all of you are settled around the fire, that Astarion finally breaks the quiet tension.

“I still can’t wrap my head around what you could have possibly been thinking, Wizard.”

Having not found a wine to his liking this evening, he instead jangled a bottle of rum in his hand, using it to gesture with only some of his usual grace towards Shadowheart, “I trust you’re aware that’s our only healer you almost disintegrated.”

Shadowheart is still staring silently into the fire, sitting with her arms gently holding her knees to her chest.

Given the time he’d had to prepare, you’d expected Gale to have his most eloquent response at the ready. But only stammers came to him:

“I didn’t-” He thinks better of his phrasing, “Gods, there wasn’t -”

“He was just trying to protect me, Astarion,” You try to interject.

“Leaving you to protect us from him.” Shadowheart’s voice is quiet. She doesn’t look up from the fire.

Us , she said. Not me.

Astarion, in contrast, is all petulance and venom when he turns his focus on you. “Don’t you start. I refuse to endure another moment of your coddling, and I certainly won’t take lectures from the fool who thought to impress by playing with a sword she’s never used!”

He stands so he can look down at you, “Pretty a thing as it is, dear, access to your cunt is a pitiful excuse for friendly fire.”

“I think you’ve had enough.” Gale cuts in exasperatedly and stands, extending a hand toward the elf’s near-empty bottle.

Gale’s movements are slow and his words have no edge to them, yet for the briefest moment, you see panic flash across Astarion’s face. His familiar sneer quickly replaces it, but he makes no effort to have the last word. He shoves the rum into Gale’s hands before stalking off to his tent. Gale deflates and sighs sadly. As he sits, he offers the remnants of the bottle to Shadowheart, but she won’t meet his gaze.

For long minutes, there is nothing. The day’s second silence.

They’re afraid of him, you realize. Surely they know it was an honest mistake? It wasn’t like none of them had ever gotten caught in the crossfire of battle before. Every fighter in your group was guilty of the occasional reckless cleave attack. Hells, Shadowheart openly threatened Lae’zel at knifepoint and the two had talked it out by morning. And obviously, death is unpleasant, but with Withers always at hand, it’s hardly permanent.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Shadowheart.” Gale says, finally finding his words.

Shadowheart stands and looks strong, though her eyes are still unfocused.

“I know you are. Although I’m not of a mind to forgive quite yet. I just upended everything to escape My La-”

a breath.

“…Shar’s push towards darkness and pain. Yet you would have given me both today, left to your own devices. That can’t be fixed with a kind word.”

You see Gale's brows knit together. You watch the journey of his face as he makes the same realization you did, and keep the same arguments to himself.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I lost myself.”

That was the wrong thing to say, apparently. Shadowheart’s misty eyes suddenly focus and her quiet control slips ever-so-slightly.

“And what about before, in Moonrise? You were ready to take our lives into your own hands and blow us up with you. Did you stop because you considered for even a moment how desperately the rest of us wanted to live? Or just because she ,” her head tilts toward you but her eyes stay fixed on Gale’s, “told you to.”

She waits for him to respond, but all he can do is stare at her, then the ground, then you.

Shadowheart looks to you as well. “What happens next time? What happens if you aren’t there to stop him?”

There’s nothing you can say that would comfort them both. Not that was true, at least. You look between the two of them. Shadowheart, despite everything, is standing strong. Her fear burns hot, tempered by anger and passion. But Gale’s is frozen, threatening to shatter him.

So - in that moment, as forever - you choose him.

“I’ll always be there.”

You meet Gale’s eyes and give him a warm, tired smile. To your great relief, he returns it.

Shadowheart balls her fists at her side and breathes deep, a small tremble in her exhale as she fights her emotions back down.

“For all our sakes, I hope you’re right,” she says, resigned, before walking back to her tent as well.

Once the sound of footsteps fades, Gale takes your hand in his. A third silence falls.

It somehow feels longer than the other two combined, although no more than an hour could have passed. By the time Gale finally speaks, you’re laying with him in a joined bedroll by the fire and sleep is starting to darken the stars.

“I am the luckiest man in the world.”

You didn’t have any particular expectations of the first thing Gale would say to you. But still, that takes you aback. You give him a searching look.

You can see him trying to reorganize his thoughts. Clearly, he had already been several tangents away from the point before he began speaking.

“I would have doomed the world.” is where he chooses to begin again. “Not just this one. Every plane of existence was at risk. Every source of authority, every sense of morality I had told me that the only choice was to detonate the orb - end the Netherbrain then and there - no matter the cost. And yet I chose you.”

You feel yourself growing defensive. Does he regret the choice he made? Resent you for saving him? “They were wrong.” You say, sharply, “You knew they were wrong.”

He pushes air out his nose in an amused half-chuckle. His hand brushes through your hair. “No, my love, I didn’t know that. But it wouldn’t have changed my mind if they weren’t.”

You don’t understand what he means. You sit up and catch his eyes, hoping he’ll continue.

And he does, sitting up himself and returning your gaze intensely.

“If you had said to me, plainly ‘I want you to let the Netherbrain run rampant. I want you to make that choice, knowing it will destroy all that is known. For me.’ I would have done it. And if you had said ‘Use the orb. Raize the tower and every living creature in it - all your most cherished friends - for no other reason than I desire it.’ I wouldn’t have thought twice. Such is my love for you.”

Now it is your turn to chuckle. You are about to make a jab at his tendency toward dramatic overtures when he grasps your hand to recapture your attention. His voice is becoming more urgent. He needs you to understand.

“Today, with the Githyanki. Shadowheart is dear to me, and I would never wish to do her harm. But if you gave me the chance to try again, my actions would be the same. You were hurt and I would do anything, cut through anyone, to pay back a single mark that’s made on you.”

You run your thumb soothingly over his grasping hand and do your best to speak softly, trying to ease him out of the lather he’s worked himself into.

“Don’t say that, Gale. Don’t talk like you don’t care.”

“Caring is not the issue.” His eyes dart around as if the right words could be found floating in the air between you. “It’s this fear. Ever-present, gnawing, cloying fear.”

That brittle look returns to him. “I was ready to destroy myself for nothing more than the whisper of a chance at Mystra’s forgiveness. What chaos might I wreak if the one whom I love a thousand times more, is taken from me? I would commit follies Karsus could only dream of. I would rend the cosmos apart until consequence and reality turned to dust in my hand. Just to keep you near me, keep you safe.”

You try to reassure him as you did before. But you feel the chill beginning to claw at your heart as well. You’re afraid too, you realize. You’ve been afraid for him since the moment he was charged with his own sacrifice.

He doesn’t see. Your brilliant, stupid love.

You don’t notice your tears until he reaches up to brush them away. It feels odd, to be offered comfort by someone who needs yours so much more. But his body seems to soften as he tends to you.

“Fear has to be cruel.” You say, hoping it sounds reassuring rather than accusatory. “It whips at your back to get you to run faster. It’s selfish to keep you alive. Yours just needs some recalibration, let me help you! I promise you’re so much more than you imagine yourself to be.”

He shakes his head. He doesn’t see. But he smiles.

“I’m not so sure about that.” He brings you close to steal a quick kiss. “But you, my love - my beautiful, brilliant, shining north star - you are the best of us. If I am to live only by your guiding light, it would be an honor.”

No. No, you have to make him see.

“You weigh your worth against a handful of grand choices.” You begin, “Yet, with all you’ve been through, the greatest thing you’ve ever done is wake up every day and choose to live , despite your burdens. You say you live for me, but I don’t tell you to breathe and eat and put one foot in front of the other. Those are choices you make every moment and every one of them is a miracle!”

He stares at you in awed silence before you bring your lips back together. You pour into the kiss all your love and your dreams of a life he can choose for himself. It's many minutes before he finally pulls away.

“See? The luckiest man.” He says, a little breathlessly “I tell you I would do anything you asked, and your only request of me is kindness for myself.”

His hand moves to cradle the side of your head as he continues. “How deeply I want your words to be true. I suppose they must be, since you say so. Though that’s the crux of the issue, isn’t it? What then, would I be without you?”

“A good person.” You respond, “The best man I know.”

“I’ll allow that I may be someday, if you’ll permit me the time. I’d like to become the man you see in me. The best I can be, for-”

You interrupt him with one last kiss, stealing the words from his mouth. Maybe he still can’t see, not yet, but you will always be there to remind him: “For you. ”

#gale x reader #gale/reader #gale x tav #gale/tav #fics #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #my writing #me #gale #gender neutral reader

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athina-blaine · 4 months

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Bloodweave Fic Recs (12/23/23)

I come bearing gifts 🎁

First fic rec list here!

Start the Day by Anonymous (G, 500+ w || Slice of Life, Idiots in Love) A soft, sleepy sort of morning routine.

Small Traditions by Velwyn (G, 2k+ w || Fluff, Established Relationship, Post-Canon) It's the first snowfall of the season in Waterdeep and Gale is insistent he and Astarion brave the cold to meet up with his mother and Tara.

Gravity series by Kivea (T, 19k+ w || Slice of Life, Humor, Developing Relationship) A series of shorter, light hearted fics intended to glimpse at the downtime between the companions as they seem to gravitate to each other and couple up from Gale's view, feeling as though as Wyll and Karlach grow close, and Lae’zel and Shadowheart, he and Astarion are left together with no one but each other for company.

in the margins by theamazingbard (M, 1k+ w || Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship) Gale, with all the wisdom he claims to have, has gotten himself skewered by a dirty blade. The scent of his blood is so familiar at this point, yet it has never turned Astarion's stomach as it did then.

Don't Feed Me, I Will Come Back by Binary_Sunset (M, 2k+ w WIP || Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Fluff and Angst, Goats) Gale finds a starving, half-crazed vampire in the woods.

Gale's Year of Rest and Relaxation by sapphala (M, 2k+ w WIP || Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Grooming and Abuse, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms) A modern AU where Gale and Astarion find pain and then solace and then violence in each other (in that order).

different hunger by little_bugger (M 4k+ w || Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood Drinking) After an impossibly long three days, most choose the privacy of their tents over a group dinner. It doesn't escape Astarion what effect this seems to have on Gale. However, the effect Gale has on him escapes Astarion entirely.

The Robberwing by trashmaven (M, 4k+ w WIP || Angst, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Pre-Canon, Suicidal Thoughts, Chronic Illness, Slow Burn) Gale goes to Baldur’s Gate in a desperate attempt to find a cure for his condition, but after a chance encounter with a pale elf, the orb becomes the least of his problems.

With This Ring by AuroraBiggsWrites (M, 4k+ w || Post-Canon, 1st Person) Gale works on a special project for Astarion.

Ask My Glass of Wine For Guidance by Caelanmiriel (M, 5k+ w || Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Academic Misconduct, Abuse of Power) Gale sits in the back of the taxi, fiddling with the wires of his headphones and bouncing his leg up and down, and tells himself that he does not feel sick. It’s just a party.

Bring me home in a blinding dream by Perching_Owl (M, 5k+ w || Whump, Suicidal Thoughts, Established Relationship) Gale is not doing well after he goes back to Waterdeep.

The Fourth Ring by Vamillepudding (M, 19k+ w WIP || Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort) Astarion is near the docks when he feels Cazador's compulsion on him snap. He doesn't think twice. He just takes the next available ship out of Baldur's Gate. Its destination: The City of Splendors. Waterdeep.

mortal bonds, immortal regret(s) by Sinister_Queer (E, 4k+ w || Epilogue, Ascended!Astarion, God!Gale, Manipulation, Unhealthy Relationships) The God of Ambition and the Vampire Ascendant attend a party. Gale has spent six months alone and Astarion is not afraid anymore. An arrangement is made.

Strigil by ZiGraves (E, 5k+ w || Soft Gale, Hand jobs) Gale is having some difficulties with stains on both skin and clothing. Astarion has a solution.

Disobedience by mossfloss1 (E, 19k+ w || First Time, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers) Good old-fashioned rumination on choice and compulsion. Gale and Astarion shake off their metaphorical shackles.

Stay Though My Arms Shake by Lunarwench (E, 34k+ w WIP || Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Domestic Fluff, Post-Canon) Two months after the brain falls, Baldur's Gate has picked up most of the pieces. The band of heroes that saved Faerûn has been there through most of it, helping the city back on its feet. But now it's time to move on. Old lives to get back to, families to return to. Gale is going back to his tower, back to Tara and the blessed quiet. Alone. Or, at least, that was the plan.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bloodweave #fic rec #ive never had so many fic subscriptions before lmao

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mlm-writer · 1 year

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Jericho (Conner Kent x FtM!Reader)

Pairing: Top!Conner Kent (YJ ver.) x Bottom!FtM!Alien!King!Reader Rating: Explicit (or Mature if you skip the last part) Words: 1565 POV: Second Summary: You fight the final battle to free your people from alien invaders (and then have sex with your bf after) Note: Gayden wanting to write plot vs y’all wanting smut. Inspired by Jericho by Iniko. Reader’s body is described as ‘his true form’, so you get to pick whatever that means for you. Tags: action, murder, alien reader, your nemesis misgenders you but they also murdered your people so idk what you feel like is worse, established relationship, epic fight scene, fluffy sex, Conner low key a service dom, oral (reader receiving), fingering, anal/vaginal sex and cockwarming

The light of your photon-sword was blinding as it tore through your enemies one by one. The purple blood of the invader species coated almost every inch of your armour. The call of your name behind you made you turn around, just in time to see another intruder trying to lunge at you. It screeched as you sliced its torso clean off its hips. Your eyes were glowing with the rage of battle, but even in this enraged state, you could smile at the man who had warned you. Conner was not from your world, but he had fought by your side nonetheless. As long as you were here, it was his home too and he would defend it until his dying breath.

“I will hold them off, do what you have to,” Conner called from where he was fighting off six pawns at once. Were the lives of your people not endangered, you might have marvelled at his strength and prowess in battle, but time was running out.

“I will come back,” you assured him. When your eyes met briefly, you could see he was as sure as you were of that promise. You lifted your arm to access the control panel of your armour. “I love you,” you added, just in case, before activating the anti-gravity matrix. Your feet floated off the ground and soon after, the thrusters were taking you up the tower.

Heavy grey clouds circled the tower, lighting and acid rain protecting the general of the invaders. Your armour was maintaining its integrity through it. It seemed an eternity ago that the structure descended from the sky, bringing trouble with it, but today would be the day you’d make it fall.

The structure rumbled as you landed on the platform on the rooftop. “Your trespassing ends today!” You roared as you came face to face with the alien that had been in your nightmares for the past years. You were not the same since the first time you were face-to-face with all those eight eyes. You could feel the changes in your body, the power granted by your ancestors rushed through your veins and vibrated through your bones.

A demonic laugh made the air tremble around you. As the brute hollered in your face, you got a clear view of their three rows of sharp teeth. “It seems the princess has learned how to hold a sword. You really think pretending to be a boy is enough to stop me?” You clenched your teeth, your rage fuelling your sword. Blue flames engulfed the hard-light, illuminating the space between the grey clouds in a cyan glow.

“The ancestors have granted me my true form and I am about to give you your final one!” You bellowed, before lunging at them. Your sword was like lighting between the clouds. The grief of war and desire for it all to be over burned in your heart. Your foe had underestimated you, but after you cut one of their many limbs off, they were sure to not make that mistake again. Even as your blood mixed with the rain, your energy never faded.

The battle seemed to drag on forever. You thought you had them cornered, when a limb you had not accounted for seemingly came out of nowhere and knocked your sword out of your hands. The temporary confusion was enough for your nemesis to fling you across the rooftop. You ended up on your back, sliding across the wet roof to the edge. You dug your gloved hand into the floor, slowing yourself down just in time, head already hanging off the edge.

The heavily wounded beast closed the distance between you, a heavy foot ending up on your torso. You clawed at their ankle, trying to free yourself as they loomed over you. They lowered their monstrous face, a smug look taunting you. “Your ancestors have failed you, little princess,” they snickered as they slowly shoved you more and more off the edge.

“Fortunately, the king still has a boyfriend!” Instant relief washed over you as you heard the voice, before Conner dashed from below, punching the monster right in their face. They stumbled backwards, giving you the window of opportunity that you needed to get back up your feet. Conner called your name, before tossing you your sword. He was wrestling with the general right after. You caught your weapon mid-air, waiting for Conner to make the beast’s back face you. As soon as it did, you dashed forward, delivering the final blow. There were no last words, just a rumbling scream and then the dark clouds thinned out. The light of your two suns broke through the sky, signalling your people that it was done; it was over; they were free.

You sighed and collapsed onto the wet roof, the glow in your eyes dying out as exhaustion took over. Conner flew you down to a healer. The people celebrated that night, but you were quick to retreat to your chambers. It smelled weird after not having been used for years, but it was all still intact. You had gotten rid of half your clothes and collapsed on your bed.

“Can I come in?” You heard Conner through the door. You shouted for him to come in. His warm laugh filled your ears, when he saw you. “After today, I don’t blame you for resting, but you’re missing a great party,” he spoke with amusement in his voice. You groaned and rolled over, now lying face down on the soft sheets. You felt a weight dip the mattress beside you. “Allow me to help,” Conner whispered, before his warm fingers helped you out of the rest of your clothes.

You used to dread being naked, but in this new body your ancestors gave you to fight the invaders, you looked forward to being naked around your lover. His hands were still on you, pressing in the knots in your back. It was not that good of a massage with dry hands, but you relaxed anyway.

His touch lingered at your waist and you spread your legs a little in reply. His lips gently kissed your back as his hand travelled between your legs. You lifted your hips a little so he had all the access he needed. Conner rubbed you in all the right places, turning you into a dripping mess. “On all fours,” he whispered against your shoulder. After you complied, a free hand started toying with your nipples. He used your juices to lube up your ass and his cock.

You moaned as his fingers entered your hole. You hadn’t realised you were leaking so much that it could be such a smooth slide. With hooded eyes, you stared over your shoulder, watching his concentrated face. Then you saw that Conner was leaking as well. He had stopped playing with your nipples and was stroking himself instead. His gorgeous cock spilled precum all over your hole that his fingers pushed inside. "I'm ready," you sighed between small whimpers of pleasure.

Conner pulled you up to your knees. He was behind you, holding his cock in place as you sunk your down on him. You moaned in relief as you finally felt him inside you. When you got too eager and tried to sink down faster, Conner held you in place. It was maddingly slow, but eventually you found your ass resting on his thighs. Conner's fingers rubbed you again, making sure you felt pleasure everywhere. "Come on, start moving," he encouraged you. You couldn't move much in this position, but Conner helped you with gentle thrusts. Your bare back connected to his chest. His moans were audible right next to your ear.

"Please, Conner, I'm so sore from today," you whimpered as your legs started to hurt. Conner pushed you off and manhandled you onto your back. You reached out for him and he immediately returned to your arms, kissing you deeply, while lifting your legs and wrapping them around his waist. Your lips stayed close to each other as he re-entered you. Your moans mixed between your mouths, his every thrust drawing another sound from your body. "Don't draw this out. I just want to cum," you huffed. Conner chuckled against your lips. You would never get tired of that sound.

"Of course, my king," he joked, before pulling out. You groaned and tried to coax him back inside, but instead his head dipped down and before you knew it, he was licking and sucking you as if he needed you to cum just as badly as you needed it. You almost screamed. Your hand flew to his head and your fingers tangled into his hair. Conner hummed as if a deep need had been fulfilled. Two fingers entered you and with the right curl of his fingers, you could feel your orgasm crash through your whole body.

Conner made sure you got the pleasure you sought and then laid you down on your side. He spooned you, putting his cock back inside as he did so. "Now rest, my king," he whispered into your ear, before pulling the covers over you. You smiled, enjoying having him still hard inside you. You drifted off into peaceful sleep, knowing that when you would wake, your people would be safe and you'd get the dicking of your life.

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lnkedmyheart · 1 year

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You know, I am one of the first people to point out the difference between queer reading and queer coding. But with Dazai and Chuuya I swear its starting to feel more and more like queer coding. Yes, there is definitely a lot of fanservice but a lot of interactions between them are imo queer coded with Dazai in general being pretty queer coded himself.

I am not gonna sit here and say that skk is canon or is going to be canon, but I think its supposed to be open to interpretation because the creators have repeatedly refered to them as more than just your baseline enemies/rivals duo. They have unending trust between them, Dazai has certain tendencies towards Chuuya, Chuuya is genuinely concerned about his injuries despite claiming to want him dead, the physical affection Dazai has repeatedly shown Chuuya, the way the creators have previously refered to them as one soul in 2 bodies, something more than friends, etc.

And the whole real life Dazai mentioning having a crush on a 15 year old short fellow does imo feel relevant here because Asagiri has repeatedly incorporated little things the real world authors did into the character counterparts with a twist.

No I am not saying this means much in terms of how others should view canon, its just my opinion that skk is meant to be queer coded because at this point I have to actively turn a blind eye to a lot of things to call this a case of shipper goggles.

#soukoku #i am not sure if Chuuya is that queer coded #i feel he can be read as queer but for the most part is not queer coded outside of his interactions with Dazai #but Dazai is definitely queer coded imo and his interactions with Chuuya are heavily queer coded

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gffa · 2 years

Video

THESE FLASHBACKS ARE SO MUCH BETTER THAN YOU REALIZE ON FIRST WATCH. They’re not just flashbacks, if they’re flashbacks at all, they’re more a mirror of the current conflict between Obi-Wan and Anakin, possibly even an on-going conversation, softened through having it through the Force, more than that they’re a memory at all. Hayden Christensen not being de-aged in the footage makes a thousand percent more sense if you view this entire sequence through it not being a flashback, but an active conversation between the two of them. They’re connected in the Force throughout the show, they share dreams while in the bacta tank, they sense each other, the entire story has been about how fixated they both are on each other, which draws their psychic connection to each other even closer. The cut-aways and cut-tos of the directing are split between the two of them, this isn’t just Vader’s or Obi-Wan’s scenes, it’s both of theirs. And it’s following along as the situation develops between them, and it’s set here because it’s how Obi-Wan remembers them and because it’s how Vader remembers them, as well as he’s taunting Obi-Wan with this, he’s deliberately needling the wound of the loss of Anakin. Is this the face you want to see, Master? Is this the face that haunts your dreams? Is this the face that you still wish you could have seen if I’d never turned to the dark side? And then there’s the conversation they’re having: “Ah, there you are.” “Was beginning to think you weren't coming... Master.” “Good. Then, maybe I stand more of a chance this time. Are you ready?” “Are you?” “Then, let's begin.” The pause before Anakin says “Master” would be an odd choice for pre-Attack of the Clones Anakin, he’d be used to saying it without hesitation. But if you’re a Sith Lord trying to rub salt in a wound, you’ll pause and draw further attention to it, make a formerly beloved term one of hurt instead. If you’re a Sith Lord who still feels like a Padawan and you know your Master sees you that way, you go along with the appearance to make yourself and him hurt all the more, dig into the pain inside you, making you stronger in the dark side, and try to do the same to him. “Then, maybe I stand more of a chance this time.” Obi-Wan stood no chance on Mapuzo and they both knew it. Yet they both know that their conflict isn’t over and Obi-Wan hopes to stand more of a chance this time. Are you ready, Vader? Are you, Obi-Wan? It would help to watch the scenes within the episode, as showing just the flashbacks leaves out the context that’s immediately surrounding the scenes (but I can only have a clip that’s so long!), but if you watch the whole thing you see that their initial attacks coincide with Vader’s attacks on Jabiim, “You grow too aggressive, Anakin. Be mindful. A Jedi's goal is to defend life, not take it.” as Obi-Wan is gearing up to defend the people on Jabiim. Obi-Wan even later says that Vader knows he’ll do anything to protect these people. “Mercy doesn't defeat an enemy, Master. Which is why you're gonna lose.“ as Vader launches the Stormtroopers at Obi-Wan and the others. Later, “There's no way out, Master. Admit you are beaten.“ as flashback Anakin has Obi-Wan backed into the corner, just as Obi-Wan on Jabiim has been backed into the innermost bunker on Jabiim. Obi-Wan spins out around Anakin in the flashback, while on Jabiim Obi-Wan is speaking with Reva while on his knees, still radiating the most BDE you’ve ever seen, that he has seemingly given himself up to the Stormtroopers, but he’s actually figuring a way out around this, he’s not yet been beaten and still has more moves yet. “All he’ll see is me,” Obi-Wan tells Reva. In the next flashback, Obi-Wan has his saber spun out beneath him, sending him to his knees, “There. Your weapon's gone. It's over.” Anakin and Vader are both so very sure they’ve won. Meanwhile, Obi-Wan tells him, even now, “Your need for victory, Anakin, it blinds you.” On Jabiim, Vader has murder sashayed his way into the innermost bunker, grabbing the ship that’s taking off, forcing it back to the ground. He rips it apart like it’s made of cardboard, so hyperfocused on Obi-Wan that he doesn’t sense they’re not in this ship, but that ship, allowing them to escape. Vader needed to win so badly that he wasn’t thinking straight and fell for the misdirection Obi-Wan laid on him. In the flashback, Obi-Wan spins away from Anakin, disarming him and giving him the praise and advice of: “You're a great warrior, Anakin, but your need to prove yourself is your undoing. Until you overcome it, a Padawan you will still be.” This is exactly what I could imagine Obi-Wan saying to Vader through the Force as they escape Jabiim, still yet one more chance to leave the door open for Anakin’s return to the light, but not over-investing himself in it any longer, because he cannot make Anakin’s choices for him, he can only give insight and offer hope, for both Anakin and the people he’s protecting on that ship, but they each have to be the ones to take it. Further, this works so well with George Lucas’ commentary on Obi-Wan’s words about Darth Vader, where it’s not that he and Yoda are trying to get Luke to kill Anakin, that’s not what they’re after, but that you have to be willing to accept that he may not take the hand you offer to him, he may try to kill you instead. “The mission isn’t for Luke to go out and kill his father and get rid of him. The issue is, if he confronts his father again, he may, in defending himself, have to kill him, because his father will try to kill him. This is the state of affairs that Yoda should refer to.“ --George Lucas, The Making of Return of the Jedi Obi-Wan has come to understand that about Vader. You can offer him hope, offer him the choice, as he does on the Death Star, he holds his saber still and lets Vader kill him, leaves that ball in his court. He understood the choice he was making, because he has offered that choice to Vader before, but it’s Obi-Wan’s time, he will not cling to life when the situation does not allow for it, and one last time, for his beloved former Padawan, who is still a Padawan on that Death Star, he gives him a warning, “Strike me down and I will become more powerful than you can imagine.”, he gives insight and a warning and a better path if Vader wishes to take it. All of that fits so well with the idea that those flashbacks are a conversation between Obi-Wan and Vader in the current day, where their sparring mirrors not just the happenings around them, but Obi-Wan’s desire to give Anakin one more chance, to understand what Obi-Wan is trying to teach him, to offer him advice for a better path, to show that Obi-Wan still has affection and love for him. Yes, he’s leaving him to Reva’s sneak attack, has deliberately drawn Vader into a trap, but has also given him the keys to break out of his own personal prison, if he wishes it. He gives Anakin his saber back in the sparring session, just as he’s trying to give Vader back his life on Jabiim, your lightsaber is your life after all. He says it with warmth, pats Anakin’s shoulder and smiles at him, because their conversation is softened through the Force, it’s set in a dreamy mental world where they are somewhat insulated against all the horror of the real world, because Obi-Wan has returned to balance, has returned to the light. Those scenes on Coruscant are so bright, they’re so clear, the day is downright sunny, compared to the darker and harsher reality of Jabiim. They’re a kinder place where Obi-Wan hopes that maybe Vader can let go of even just enough rage to maybe see what Obi-Wan is trying to show him, trying to reach him with. He likely knows that it’s not going to happen, Vader is too far into the dark to accept it, but this is still the conversation Obi-Wan has with him, trying to reach him one more time.

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi spoilers #anakin skywalker #meta #video #long post

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mommyclaws · 4 months

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Opinions on Leopardstar? I haven't read leopardstar's Honor yet, not sure what happens there, but I've heard it's somewhat disappointing.

I was always somewhat angry that she never really mentioned Tigerstar after the whole Tigerclan thing, and we never really got to see how she felt about the whole thing, just that the people she sent to die really didn't like her.

A Shadow in Riverclan also kinda did the same thing where she gave a little pep talk and suddenly everything was ok for Feathertail, after she had horrible ptsd from Leopardstar

I want to like her but she's such a nothing character imo to actually have an opinion on because I think she was done pretty dirty, as Riverclan and her weren't really the focus of the series for so long

I consider myself a Leopardstar fan. I’ve been wanting to talking about my feelings/view on her for a while so i’ll put all my thoughts here!

The direction they took with her in canon is dissatisfying but she has alot of groundwork that gives her interesting potential. Her father is a medic- formerly warrior- who changed his position because he is against violence. She turns into everything Mudfur wanted to escape from. Too proud, itching for a battle, apathetic to the suffering of the other clans. And even if it was a let down, I can appreciate the authors at least tried to do more with her character than let her off the hook as easily as Blackfoot.

I like her mostly in comparison to my dislike for Blackstar's character. He teamed with Brokenstar and Tigerstar, committed murders and didn’t protest to the abuse of his own clan. He does nothing to atone and doesn't even seem particularly remorseful but he's still rewarded by being made leader. Leopardstar was already in power when she made the decisions that cost cats their lives. Cats trusted her to protect them and her neglect threw them into savagery and death. Standing by to allow kits and her own deputy be slaughtered is GRUESOME. I read her as someone blinded by ambition, just another product of the code. She misjudged then got in over her head with Tigerclan and was willing to toss others aside to save her own tail. Maybe she truly is remorseful, but it doesn't change what she did. Nothing can.

Crookedstar's leadership was very relaxed and she considered him weak. He gave up land to Shadowclan, he could never keep Sunningrocks, he allowed Thunderclan to take refugee on multiple occasions, and all of the half clan cats he accepts are seemingly only because they're his kin. She had thoughts of making Riverclan powerful and feared once he was out of the picture, it's why she completely disregarded his dying wishes- She couldn't bring herself to respect him.

The politics of Riverclan change drastically with her nine lives. Closed borders and no tolerance for Thunderclan, not even Graystripe, who only wanted to be with his kits. Riverclan is strong. But it could be stronger, couldn't it? She and Tigerclaw served as deputies together, even if he was the enemy, she thought well of him. He is a fierce and respected Thunderclan warrior. Or so he was. While she initially thought it a red flag he was now serving Shadowclan, she couldn't disagree with him for leaving Thunderclan when she already had so much resentment for them and ruling Shadowclan, it was true. They had been weaken for many moons, it was Tigerstar who reunited them and made them powerful. So when he promises to make her clan just as powerful, together, she doesnt refuse.

She very consistently and vocally had a dislike for half-clan cats. She exiled Graystripe. She calls Featherpaw and Stormpaw liabilities. She banishes Stormfur and Brook. I think she has very genuine hateful beliefs but at the same time she’s horrified at what happened to Stonefur. That was a cat she was trusting to become the next leader of Riverclan. And he was killed for defending innocent lives. She knows she was wrong, she regrets it, she has nightmares about the bonehill. (<- This was confirmed by an author apparently!) but her attempts to “atone” are surface level and shallow at best. She wants to be forgiven without changing. She makes Mistyfoot deputy to show she’s better now, but what meaning does that position have after Stonefur was slaughtered? She apologizes to Feathertail and Stormfur, but they still feel like complete outcasts. They’re more friendly with their former clanmates in Thunderclan and Leopardstar later exiles Stormfur over a faked sign. I think her attempts were never to better herself or right her victims, but to relieve her own guilt. She’s always prioritized herself above others.

#Short answer? I like her as a complicated DISlikable character #people can do bad things they regret and still be a bad person #I think her leadership is interesting because despite how much she doesn’t deserve it- shes the leader. she gets to stay the leader.#and continues to make bad choices sprinkled with few and far between moments of apology #because she feels more sorry for herself and her guilt than the cats affected by it #warrior cats #txt #Leopardstar #infodump tag #thanks for the ask! you get. giant paragraph

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orgasming-caterpillar · 30 days

Text

My Sun, My Dear

According to traditions, the period of a solar eclipse is considered most unfortunate. It is said that no good can be done in a time deprived of the Sun. Until the rays of the Suryadeva reach the Earth for the second time that day, no dharmika deed should be done.

But what if the Sun is sure to never return?

What if, just what if, there will be no second time for the rays to strike the Earth.

Such an eclipse had shadowed the life of the eldest Kaurav prince, Duryodhana. It was close to dusk on the 17th day of the War of Kurukshetra. Duryodhana had lost his brothers —his ninety nine brothers— to a fruitless war. He had lost his family, his relatives and in the end, his teacher too. Grief sagged his heart every time he lifted a weapon.

But warriors do not wait to grieve. Grief can stop a man, not an army. Not the enemy.

Karna took Drona's place as the Commander in Chief of Duryodhana's army. So for as long as Suryen-dhanya Karna, blessed by the Sun itself, was beside him, who could defeat the Kuru prince?

Or so he thought.

The last rays of the sun were disappearing from the battlefield. As tradition wills it, every warrior had put away his weapons. Except Gandivdhari Arjuna.

For as long as he stayed alive, Duryodhana never forgot the sound of the bow string let loose. The arrow cutting through the air in the direction of Karna. The last ray of the sun glinting off of the tip of the arrow and briefly blinding everyone.

A moment later, when Duryodhana opened his eyes, the sun was no longer.

A blue sheet of dusk had settled over the battlefield as far as the eye could see. He searched the periphery of his vision for his beloved mitra. What could an arrow do to the man who wears the armor of Suryadeva himself.

He remembered the next few moments in pieces. Karna falling from his chariot. The charioteer speeding off without him. Karna in the dirt. Karna with Arjuna's arrow.

Karna with Arjuna's arrow lodged in his throat.

Karna lying still in the dirt.

Karna.

A scream ripped itself out of Duryodhana's throat, thunderous and raw as an impeding storm. The entire battlefield turned to stare as the Kuru prince mounted the nearest horse and galloped to the fallen body.

The Pandavas surrounded Karna, shocked to see their own mother weeping with his head in her lap. Arjuna's charioteer, Krishna, explained to them what adharma they had just committed, and why not to blame themselves for it. They did not weep. Even after killing their own blood, they did not weep.

Arjuna lowered his head in shame. Duryodhana wanted to cut it off.

By the time he reached Karna, the Pandavas had blocked him from his view. Yudhisthir had seen him approaching and was now standing in his way.

"Step aside, Yudhisthir," Duryodhana rasped, mounting off his horse.

"No."

He turned his full glare on him; furious, bloodshot eyes, stinging with tears. "I need to see him."

"You may not, bhrata Suyodhana. It is dusk, you should return with your army."

For one last time, Duryodhana tightened his grip over his gadaa. If they wouldn't give him Karna's body, he would fight for it. He was Duryodhana's before he was ever a brother to these sorry sobs.

"Keep your arms down, maharathi," Krishna's voice echoed off the air itself. "It is adharma to raise a weapon, for the Sun is no longer."

The Sun is no longer.

This was the exact moment Duryodhana remembered that his heart shattered. The gadaa slipped from his fingers.

He could see a sliver of Karna's body hidden in the crowd of the Pandavas' sena. Such a small army had never before seemed to infinitely vast to Duryodhana. He, raised with hundred brothers himself and not once feeling crowded, saw the bodies hiding Karna's from him and saw for the first time in his life a crowd so vast he couldn't see his path.

Hundred brothers, one by one each lost to these Pandavas. And Duryodhana never looked back to see who burned their pyre. But this, this he couldn't allow. He would sooner let them take his life than Karna.

Slowly, with the image of Karna's corpse burned into his eyelids, Duryodhana fell to his knees.

All across the ranbhoomi, not a single man dared to draw a breath. Their eyes stayed fixated on their King as he lowered his head and...

Joined his hands.

When he spoke, the ache in his voice rang through the battlefield. "Brother, they call you dharmaraja because you are said to value dharma before anything else. But I am a fool, I- I never cared for what is dharma and adharma. For my entire life I have looked for ways to make you inferior to me, but it was always I who was inferior."

The Pandavas looked at each other in shock. They had not expected him to kneel, let alone plead.

"Be the righteous King you were always meant to be, Dharmaraja, but grant me this one thing. Give me my mi-tra. That is- That is all I ask of you. If not your brother, then as a supplicant." Even the breaks in his voice echoed. His tears wet the Earth below him.

"Let him have it, Dharmaraja."

Yudhisthir looked at Krishna, as if expecting him to come to his senses. "But he is our brother, Vasudeva. We are the ones who shall perform his last rites by dharma."

Duryodhana opened his mouth to speak, but Krishna spoke before him. "What kind of brother, Dharmaraja? The one you didn't even know about this morning? The one you were preparing to kill for days? The one you called sutaputra?"

If he wasn't wrecked inside with misery, Duryodhana might have enjoyed the shame on Yudhisthir's face. But all he felt was hope.

"Let him have Angaraja's body. It is he who deserves to perform his last rites, for they loved each other over karma and dharma. It is hard to see the one who hates you as someone capable of love, but is it fair to deny him his love, Dharmaraja?"

Yudhisthir only looked at his pleading brother.

A funeral pyre was to be prepared for Karna after the Pandavas left. Duryodhana's army gathered wood and oil, someone stitched a shroud out of the dead warriors' clothes, nobody dared to disturb the grieving prince.

Karna. Karna. Karna. He chanted till it was not a name but the sound of his tears falling on his armor. It was not a word but aching devotion.

He lifted a bloody hand to cup Karna's cheek. The warmth should have gone out of it long ago, but he was Suryaputra. He burned until there was nothing left to burn but his body.

He still couldn't wrap his head around the truth in his grief. Karna －brilliant, quick-witted, unyielding Karna－ was dead.

He clutched the body in his arms. The body that no longer belonged to his lover. A shadow. A torture.

Karna. Karna. Karna.

His Radheya. His Angaraja. His Karna. His Priye. His Sun.

Duryodhana felt as though all the light had gone out of his life. He carries the embers of it to the pyre, lays him down as gently as one would to a newborn instead of a corpse.

With shaking hands, Duryodhana carried the fire and lit the funeral pyre. He couldn't bear to watch as flames engulfed his beloved and turned his head to the sky. The scream that followed was a living thing, clawing its way out of his throat.

For the last time in forever, his lover burned as bright as the Sun.

And the smoke swirled in the night sky, carrying the prince to a land of eternal eclipse.

#mahabharat #karna x duryodhan #duryodhana #duryokarn #durykarn #karna #madhav ke lekh #mahabharat fanfic

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bucknastysbabe · 8 months

Note

70s/80s summer camp for jace it’s just so fitting

SO FITTING THAT LIL SUMMER BOY, I struggled at first and really found my groove so I hope it’s good! Thanks for requesting❤️❤️

AU Bingo - 70’s Summer Camp - Jace Velaryon

Rating: Explicit

Tags: TW//underage drinking, consumption of marijuana and alcohol in LARGE quantities, Jace and Reader are 18, Cregan’s little sister!reader, enemies to fwb to lovers, slight angst, Addam and Alyn share one brain cell, poor Luke, Cregan is the ultimate Big Bro, cunnilingus, pnv!sex, Frottage, blowjobs, Jace’s Horse Dong, virgin!Jace, we goin wild at the summer camp

“It’s going to be a hot summer this year folks! But we have hotter music for the Summer of seventy-nine. Here’s The Logical Song from Supertramp.”

The man on the radio was right. It was sweltering in Jace’s little black Pontiac firebird transam. He swerved at breakneck speed around the bends on the mountain roads, second nature at this point. Lucerys was in the passenger, nervously eyeing his brother.

“You’re making me quiver,” he shoved the twerp, “Quit being a pussy.”

Luke mumbled, “M’not a pussy!” He sunk down into the leather seats, brown eyes cast to the surrounding trees and views. They’d go through the mountains before making it to the lake and the camp. Camp Wolfwind was the name, the Stark family generously started it over decades ago.

Cregan Stark, Jace’s best friend by mail most of the time would be there. He was assistant director of camp this year, just a year older than him. Cregan always had the air of being mature, making Jace feel like a kid without even trying. Mr. Umber was the camp director, some wildman looking type with a booming laugh.

Jace’s mother had him and Luke come to this camp since they were little, to quote, “I’m not sending my children to that snobby hobnobbing farce of a camp. You boys are going to learn to be of the people and nature.” Safe to say Camp Wolfwind was a staple of Jacaerys summer. It really was a great place.

Being a senior counselor this year added bonuses. More time off between campers, say-so on party invitations, and all the grass, liquor, whatever you could get your hands on. It was a poorly hidden secret Mr. Umber grew his own bud. But only on the weekends you could partake, per Cregan.

“Whose gonna be the female senior counselor?”

Jace almost wrecked the fancy car. Fuck. Cregan’s little sister got that post. He’d had to work with the thorn in his side since, god, he first camp to Wolfwind. She had a way of getting under his skin with that sharp laugh and glinting eyes. Most of the guys thought she was sexy, looking like Jaclyn Smith of Charlie’s Angels.

Jace saw a demon with horns snorting at him when she opened her mouth. He had no clue how that girl was related to the ever calm, collected Cregan. Jace huffed, annoyed that Luke brought back the information he had banished since receiving the letter from his friend.

Whatever. It was his last summer at Wolfwind before heading off to college. Camp stopped last week of July and most of his stuff was packed up back home anyway.

A sign for the camp flew by, Jace’s knuckles whitening on the wheel. Luke snorted and popped back a cheez-it, “You’ll be fine, she’s really not that bad.” The elder brother made a familiar turn, much slower now, and scoffed, “Okay, sure, that’s why Aemond makes you cry at Christmas.” The two were pulling hair and throwing blind punches, the car skidded to a halt as insults were slung.

Cregan leaned into the open window, grinning in amusement, dodging a stray elbow. He slammed on the hood of the trans am a couple of times before Jace collected himself and shot one last side-eye to his shit of a brother. The eldest Stark huffed in humor, “Good to see you Jace and Luke, let’s get you two parked then you can go into the woods to work it out.”

Jace smiled and shook his best friend’s hand, “That can be arranged.”

Luke was back to pouting, quiet and slamming shit as he grabbed his stuff upon parking. The familiar smells and sights greeted Jace’s nose. He couldn’t help but grin at the lake shining under the view of the mountains, the wooden buildings here and there, up through the trees were obstacle courses and archery ranges. The smell of the mess hall wafted by. The Velaryon felt at home here.

Sliding his Ray-bans back, Jace sauntered to the senior counselor rooms, a duplex where he’d be connected to Satan herself. Luke stomped off to the more open spaced male junior counselor building, throwing one last bird finger. Cregan leaned against the porch frame now, holding out a bag full of camp clothes.

“You need to leave that poor boy alone,” he teasingly chastised. Jace plunked his suitcase on the bed and eyed the mirror in front of him. He shrugged, “Always sound like my mom Stark.” Cregan shrugged, “You know me, someone’s gotta do it.” The smaller brunette plugged away his personal clothes.

“Sis is real excited to see you,” he deadpanned.

Cregan’s dry humor could either make one want to drown or laugh until crying. Currently it’s drowning. Jace slammed a drawer shut and snarked, “I’m sure she is, surprised she-wolf wasn’t waiting with a sign that said ‘welcome pansy!’” Another huffing snicker from the elder.

“Well get your swim trunks on and meet down by the dock, Umber’s got us a nice selection while the counselors get here.”

Jace sighed a bit at that. Some bud and a beer would be nice. He shimmied on his red trunks and sandals, putting his best foot forward. He was the alpha somewhat now, had to exude authority. The Velaryon had no idea how his cousins, one a drunken slob and the other an uppity seminarian could exude so much confidence.

Down on the dock, Big John Umber was lighting a pipe, booming, “Jace! My boy! Get over here and have a puff!” Jacaerys grinned, “Yessir, how’ve you been this year?” He took two greedy puffs of the potent herb and held until exhaling with a couple of coughs. Umber’s big hand clapped his back as he replied, “Business is booming son, spent the whole year in Miami!”

Jacaerys waved and nodded at familiar faces; Maris and Cassandra, Ben and Aly Blackwood, Alyn and Addam, then the she-demon. She waved her painted nails, long dark hair streaming down a regrettably beautiful body. The she-wolf cooed, “Jaceyyyy, you ready for camp? Then college? Gonna have to unlatch off of mommy’s tit by then.” Her hazy eyes were lidded, lips curled in sarcasm.

Jace cracked a beer open and sniffed, “Might have to fight Lucerys and Joff back for that position Stark. Sure you’re ready to go wild without Cregan’s approval.”

Cregan’s dark, sharp eyes turned to the pair. She waved a hand, “Just playing around bro, chill out, smoke some more damn.” She stuck her tongue out at Jace and leaned back, exposing more tit than he really needed to see.

He sat on the dock’s edge, humming along to the radio, feeling the buzz tickle his senses.

Soon enough more arrived and a little gathering had developed into a party, Cregan and Umber high as balls watching from their kingly wooden dock chairs. Even little Luke had finished his pouting fit to have some PBR, making a face. Jace was flirting with Cass, boasting about his college plans.

Before a little hand pushed him into the water with a laugh. Jace dunked under the chilled night water, coming up to wipe his hair back and curse, “Hey! What the fuck?” She smiled down at him and said, “Sorry, Cass looked bored. I wanted your spot.” A raucous of laughter echoed around, drunken teens.

Jace narrowed his eyes and swam around to get tossed a towel from Addam, shaking his head. Jace plunked down near the white-blonde and was passed a shot, taking the whiskey quickly. He swallowed down the burn, feeling easier. The Hull boy snickered, “Cregan’s sister has it sooooo bad for you Jace.”

He raised a brow and guffawed at such a notion. “Yeah and gas is gonna go down too!” They both laughed at that, the male humming, “Glad I get a deal on the diesel family monstrosity.” Alyn piped in, “The monstrosity is named mouse and she does a good job.”

Another shot or two was passed around, Jace beginning to feel pretty smacked. He shook his head and excused himself from the twins, “I think I’ve lived up to the family lightweight standards, and I’m gonna retire boys.”

“Awe c’mon, c’mon, we got ghost stories soon!”

He smiled and promised another night, half stumbling back to his new cabin, all to himself. He could shower! Shower! Fuck yes. Jacaerys Velaryon felt like a king. The dim porch lights blurred in his vision, the door almost there.

“Tapping n’for the night already?,” she asked softly, long hair braided back. It looked pretty. No. Bad Jace. Cregan’s sister was drunk off her ass too, eyes hazy and leaning against the wall with a too wide grin. Jacaerys snipped, “Why y’care? Want to push me n’to the water again?”

She shuffled closer, face so sharp and pretty, dark eyes enticing. “No, I wanted to get you to myself and I was making sure ya’ weren’t leavin’.”

Jace’s face suffused into a blush. He stuttered, “W-wh-Wha?” He was a big virgin. With a capital V. Berlin Wall sized V. The darker haired girl smoothed a hand up into his hair, asking, “Taken? No good hm? Whas’ the play here.”

He steadied himself, blinking some sobriety into his thoughts and said, “I’m going to go to my shower. You can turn the radio on. The rest is up to you but,” he snatched at her waist, “Quit playin’ ‘round with me.” She moaned softly, nodding.

He let her go and moved to his room, stripping inelegantly, heading straight to the shower, leaving the door cracked. It got to a steaming heat, he stepped under, sighing, his cock beginning to hang heavy between his legs.

Right.

Jace had a ridiculously sized cock. So large in fact he thought something was wrong and went to his step-father about it. Who crassly widened his pale eyes and exclaimed, “That’s a damn horse if I’ve seen one. Congrats lad. No wonder your mother loves some Strong’s.”

So usually when he got to the point of attempting to fuck a girl, they would shy away or screech in pain. But he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to fuck right now, this she-wolf was a menace.

The radio clicked on. ‘Spooky’ by Little River Band filtered into the haze, making Jace a bit woozy as more blood flew between his legs. He heard her light footsteps, then a body slid behind his own, soft tits and feminine hands sliding up Jacaerys’ taught torso.

She murmured into his ear, “When did’ja get all handsome hm? Get this,” she wrapped her hand barely around his cock and shook, “This Fuckin’ monster.” He moaned softly, leaning dark hair back onto her shoulder. “Dunno, tried to hide it today.”

He flipped her round under the spray, getting a good look at wet lashes, dilated pupils, and swollen lips. Jace stared, hands groping at her built ass, cock nudging her thigh. She pulled him forward with two hands, sculpted lips drawing Jace open. They slid tongues across another sensually, occasionally getting a little nip from her, a hand pulling at his aching member.

Jace groaned helplessly, whining and chasing her lips with wide eyes as the she-wolf pulled back. She snatched some conditioner and slathered it on his cock, Jace’s legs trembling. The brunette girl braced herself against the wall, ass up, legs tight together.

“C’mon, y’old maid, fuck the gap!”

Understanding knocked him clean in the skull, shaking hands guiding into that shining opening, gasping and stuttering her name as he fucked the man-made gap, her teasing fingers helping along. She cooed and shivered, “Y-yes, that’s it, fuck you’re perfect! N-nudge there, there, THERE!”

Jace must’ve been getting her clit based on pitchy whines and cries, her cute hands scrambling for purchase as her back arched and then gushed on his cock, pussy convulsing. She tightened her strong thighs around him on last time before dropping to her knees.

“Cum on my tits Jacey, just like those pornos you watch.”

It didn’t take long looking at her wrecked face and swollen cunt to have him painting her tits in white, some reaching her chin and lips. He heaved and choked out hoarse moans, body wearing out. He slapped a hand on the shower wall and whimpered her name when the she-wolf licked his cum off her chin— fuck, lips, moaning.

“Does your mother know,” Abba warbled. She grinned evilly, patting his oversensitive cock. Standing back up she sung, “We’re gonna have fun this summer, Jacey.” And off she went, leaving the male a shaking panting wreck. He was gonna get her ass next round.

Jace was met with a rude awakening besides a mega hangover the next morning. Stretching and shuffling to the mess hall, he waited for his duplex neighbor. She gave him a disgusted look and shoved past, giving Jace an eyeful of legs and ass in her bitty jean shorts. Her dark hair whipped around.

Oh. Jace was a bit perplexed. She was just licking his cum off her chin last night. Now the cold shoulder? Was this one of those games girls played? The brunette was a novice on the front and he certainly couldn’t go to Cregan about it.

Shuffling into the mess hall Jace managed to stomach some grits and coffee, head pounding. Addam and Alyn sat down, identical faces cheery. Those two were immune to anything. Alyn hummed, “What’s your bag? Looking like a bummer man.”

Jace took a miserable sip of his coffee. He murmured, “Do not start yelling and jumping when I start talking. Got it? Or coffee in your face.”

Cregan was off in the corner with Aly, the two seemingly close this year.

The twins nodded, eager for the skinny. Jacaerys sighed, “What does it mean when a girl gives you the cold shoulder after gettin’ ah-uh a little hot and heavy.”

“Who?!”

Jace hissed, “I said shut it! Doesn’t matter!”

Addam, the more suave of the two, “She’s playing games then, wants you to beg and grovel for her. Or…if this is who I think it is, she wants it on the DL.”

“Downlow then, but riles me up during the day. Just great,” Jace whinged while sipping his coffee. Alyn whispered something to Addam, the other nodding and they descended into giggles. A plate slammed down, the trio jumping and growing red faced.

“Morning girls, what’s the skinny?,” the she-wolf asked with a conniving look. Addam shrugged off Alyn’s red face and Jace being an idiot, “Which girl has the nicest ass, what did you expect Stark?”

“I’d assume it would be mine,” she hummed, taking an obscene bite from her banana, watching Jace. The brunette took the last bite of his apple and darted off, holding his mug of coffee, “See you guys for cleanup later!”

Jacaerys was going to explode. With anger, lust, he didn’t know what. He stomped to the little overlook on the lake he’d found as a kid, sitting on a rock. The lake was calm and lapping on the smooth rocks, sky sunny, fish flopping here and there. With every sip of his warm drink, his blood began to settle.

The crunching of leaves took that serenity and shat all over it. Stark’s sister sat next to him, a strange look on her face. Both began to speak then stopped. Jace bolted out, “I don’t know what the deal is here but I can’t handle it.”

Pretty lips frowned and she replied, “Fine, I’m sorry. It’s fun to see you get red in the face. But I can’t just change my personality around you,” she looked off into the distant, “Cregan is Cregan no matter how close you two are. I wanna keep fooling around, why not?”

Jace narrowed his eyes and held out a hand, “Fine. Just fucking around on the low. But just know I’ll get you back.” She grinned and shook his hand, stating, “You got it Velaryon.” They sat down in simple peace before the call of the speakers came, the order for clean up.

Over the next week was a flurry of inebriation, hard work, escaping Cregan’s watchful eye, and shoving away the Hull twins. He’d spend his nights learning all the ways to pleasure a woman. Jace’s favorite was face first between her strong thighs, lapping and sucking. She’d get all whiny and soft on him.

Especially when he crooked his middle finger up and she made his chin slick with arousal, Jace going back in for more, rutting into his bed frantically. He made her come so many times one night she cried and held to him until the she-wolf remembered her situation and ran away.

As the days to campers arriving drew nigh, she was a staple in his bed after their romps, the pair just chatting and smoking cigarettes. Dreams, hopes, funny stories, sad stories. He felt like he’d known the Stark sister for years by now.

They never reached full penetration, Jace utterly petrified by hurting her, as much as she begged for it. Getting head was just as nice, especially when she’d get him down her throat, the male holding her distended neck and whining helplessly, balls drawing tight so damn fast.

Then the campers came. The two would bicker and shove each other when directing the others. Not to mention the inclusion of night rounds to make sure no kids were being naughty. Occasionally they’d find some kids macking against a pine but nothing serious. The leaders were the naughty ones.

It went like this all summer. Until the very last week. The send-off dance with all the staff and the tweens moving up to counselor next week. Jace was excited and decided he would ask his girl. Which wasn’t his girl but they did everything like a couple, the whole camp had picked up on it.

Jace reluctantly asked Cregan one evening. He was shaking in his shoes, “Y-you know how your sister and I can get, but, I really like h-her.” The elder Stark deadpanned, “You’ve been at it all summer, you think I can’t tell that? She likes you a lot too, go for it. I wouldn’t want any other man to have her hand for this dumbass dance.” Jace grinned and pulled Cregan into a brotherly hug, thanking him tremendously.

He would wait until later to spring the question on her. Jace may have gone a bit overboard, flowers from the woods and twigs spelling out, “Be mine?” Aly loaned some candles and he was set, waiting. The door opened to his cabin and there she stood, gorgeous as always.

She took in the surroundings and stifled a laugh, eyes wide. “W-what’s all this?,” she questioned, snorting again. Jace’s heart and smile began to fall, she seemed to dislike this. He murmured, “I asked Cregan, he doesn’t care, wanted to take ya to the dumbass dance as a last ride, c’mon?”

“You went and asked Cregan? Really? What is this? My silly engagement proposal? Fuck you Jace! We knew what this was from the beginning!,” her dark hair tossed about as she hissed again, “Don’t fucking talk to me again!”

The door slammed shut. The radio turned to some cheery disco song. Fuck Suzi Quatro. Stumblin’ in to what? A brick wall, in the trans am at 120mph. Jace, stunned, sat down on his bed. He wiped away a stupid tear, steadying himself.

“FUUUUUUUUuuuuUUUUUCK.”

Okay, maybe he felt better now. Jacaerys Velaryon would just have to do like he did last year, pining over a different girl then. Get blackout drunk and puke in the grass. Then get back and go way too hard on the dance floor, maybe Cassandra would let him have a squeeze. Blegh.

Jace moped his week away, some of the kids asking why he wasn’t with his ‘girlfriend’. He’d snap, “Back to the ropes course! She’s not my girlfriend!” A snap of the line and the little shits would go scrambling. Meanwhile the she-wolf ignored him utterly and completely. Not even to jab or play a trick. Nose up and eyes away, not responding to any teasing.

He tried to get her attention once and she simply crossed lean arms and stared until he got the point and shuffled away. Pure torture this was. Alyn and Addam exchanged confused glances, they had no clue on what pissed her off so bad. Addam clapped Jace’s shoulder and laughed, “Girls man! Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

But Jace worried about it, pacing his wooden floor the night of the dance, all dressed up. By that he meant a linen shirt and some nicer shorts. Luke probably had a damn silk disco top on. The brunette dabbed on some cologne, ignoring his wild hair. He hoped she went home or something.

The dance was awkward and filled with the smell of sweaty teenagers and weed. Cassandra offered a flask and said, “Looks like you need it, sorry bout’ ya girl.” Jace took the heady drink to the dome, swallowing down the burn, finishing it. He shook his head and garbled, “Sorry,” then shuffled away.

The buzz kicked in but Jace felt more moody than anything. Luke’s silk shirt did bring a slight smile to his face. Same with Cregan’s brotherly hug and promise, “She’ll come around.” But the music and happiness wasn’t seeping into his bones.

Grabbing a beer the eldest Velaryon went to his spot by the lake. It was much quieter out here, only crickets chirping, faint music emanating from the mess hall. He found his rock and sipped on the beer, stuck in his thoughts. Beer bottle still sealed by his plush lips, Jace caught a glimpse of lights over by his duplex cabin.

Taking a gulp and placing down the bottle he stared at the dim light, an aching feeling crawling up from his belly to chest. Longing. God. He was so dreadfully in love. Taking one more swig he disposed of the bottle and trudged to her side of the cabin.

The door was ajar, Blondie singing about that glass heart. Jace pushed the door open and raised his brows. There she was, pinning a banner up. Per usual the female snapped, “I wasn’t done yet you dunce!”

‘Sorry for being a bitch’

She stepped down and gestured, face aflame, “Well. Here it is.”

Jace noted the trembling in her bravado, the multiple discarded outfits, even a curling iron was steaming on a dresser. She never did her hair or wore make-up. “Are you going to say something or stare? I know I’m a piece of shit!”

Lean arms began to wrap around herself, shying away.

“No, no! Just surprised!,” Jace crawled onto the bed and pulled her to straddle him, taking in that familiar beauty. She blushed and turned her head, but little hands curled under and behind to grab his shoulders. The she-wolf murmured, “I’m really sorry— I’ve never felt this way about anyone and I freaked out. I know I’m crazy…but that was shitty. I-I’ve always held the cards?”

Jace grabbed her chin to look at her long lashes and rouged cheeks, sighing, “You are crazy. But I forgive you. A valiant effort by the way, but you always look pretty to me.” She huffed, Jace smiling and nibbling at sharp jaw. “I don’t do makeup for anyone,” the other brunette stated.

“You gonna keep talking or kiss me sweetheart?”

Stark jerked her gaze towards Jace and took charge eagerly, hands moving to grab his face. Ah great, the radio was on the Doobie Brothers. Sexy time initiated— Jace internally cringed. Their lips sealed eagerly, finding a familiar pattern before Jace licked into her mouth. He got a breathy sigh, an arch closer into his frame.

He grabbed her pretty ass and squeezed, dragging her across his already aching cock. The she-wolf gasped and whined into his maw, lapping harder afterwards, humping him desperately. Jace thumbed a sensitive pulse point on her long neck before sliding a hand under her crochet top— no bra to be found.

Now he had something to work with, both hands relocating to her tits, tweaking and pulling at sensitive buds. She yanked off the top in a flurry, going to work unbuttoning Jace’s linen shirt, kissing her way across tanned skin. He shimmied the top off to push his she-wolf into the bed, him growling at her forced moan.

He rutted into her clothed cunt, the little hotpants doing nothing to hide. Jace rumbled against her ear, “Does it feel good, letting someone else have the cards?” She stuttered a retort— gone squeak as he pulled up on the front of her shorts.

“Fuck yes it feels g-good, get ‘em off!”

Jace grinned, that pretty pussy he missed so much…wet and swollen for him. Him. Only Jace. Sliding back to her chagrin, the male unbuttoned and pushed down his shorts and boxers, heavy member dripping with arousal. Eyes hazy but determined she moaned, “That- ugh- fucking monster is going inside me. Stud.”

Jace nodded, barely catching the bottle thrown at him. He looked down and smirked, a bottle of lube sat in his calloused hands. Jace casually put it aside and hummed, “Gotta get my pretty girl ready first hm?”

The girl almost shrieked when familiar lips met eachother again, Jace lapping and suckling her clit. He sighed, “Y-you’re so fuckin’ wet baby.” She shoved him back down, thighs shaking. Jace flicked his tongue as one, two, three all eventually fit into her tight pussy. Sloppy noises outweighed the background drift of music.

Stark cried and shivered, “Ah-haaah, Jace, fuuuck! Another, Jus’ one more! So close.” He could almost cum right then at her broken voice. Easing a pinky inside, she gasped and shuddered, coming undone when Jace flicked the sensitive spot under the hood of her clit and fucked all fingers up in the way she liked.

“Jace! Jace! Fucking god!,” she hollered.

He kept his mouth wide open for her gush of arousal, moaning and slurping eagerly, until she whimpered and shied backwards. Jace simply took his essence covered hand and jacked his cock a couple of times. He eyed her sated look and asked, “Still want this baby?”

“Uh-huh,” she rasped, legs wide open, cunt twitchy and still shining with arousal.

Jace slathered himself further down with the KY, even taking time to work her stretched opening, earning the cutest little noises. Now pressed on top, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, they stared intensely. She thumbed his cheek and murmured, “I really, really care for you Jacaerys. M’sorry for freaking out. I could probably spare this for later but,” he kissed her gently, hands smoothing up and down soft skin.

“S’okay, I promise, I care for you so much. Now just relax, we both gotta make this work okay?”

Another kiss and Jace led the heavy blunt tip to her soaked entrance. Oh god. He can’t believe this was happening. He tucked his cheek next to the fellow brunette to listen for anything, lacing fingers with her own. It was a big stretch, her panting going hoarse as the first few inches slid in.

Fucking hell. She was like Heaven, so tight n’ silky hot. She gasped, “K-keep goin’ Jacaerys, c’mon.” Soon the fattest part of his length was deep inside, cockhead nearing her cervix. One more push and they were snug as possible— joined completely. In a sweaty tangle of limbs, half-mewling cursed and sweet words.

She kissed him deeply, licking into Jace’s mouth, sighing, “I can feel you, hell, so ah deep.” He could feel it too, the lump in her lower belly. Puffing softly he asked, “Can I? Can I try?” Another peck to sweeten the deal.

“Go for it stud, be gentle.”

He slid back inch by agonizing inch, mouth open with helpless moans of her name. Every inch of her cunt was pulling along him, wanting to suck back in. Then gathering his wits, Jace forced himself up, the she-wolf mewling in glee. Unsteady at first, Jace developed a good pace, sweat dripping down his back, and god knows what leaving his mouth.

She scratched and cried at his shoulders, legs wrapped tight around slim hips. She warbled, “S’good, only you, only you stud, fucking me so good.” Jace’s hips stuttered at that, picking up the pace before he blew from her just being…sexy. Soft slick noises developed into full-on slaps and squeals.

Jace rambled, “Tight- s’tight- ohgodyoursoperfect! Ohhh-only mine!”

He was falling apart fast, balls tight and nerves on fire to bust a nut. She swirled lithe fingers around where they were joined then to her clit, crying and carrying on. Jace rapturously watched— her fingers, their copulation, the belly bulge. In a frenzy he pulled out with a load groan, painting her legs and the bed with loads of spunk.

Unable to catch his breath, Jace flopped onto his belly, leg still woven with his girl’s. The pair rested for a minute, music filling the peaceful void. A raspy voice and warm body curled over to him, her nosing his hair. Practically purring she cooed, “Couldn’t have been better. Too sweet. They make you Velaryon’s different.”

Jace huffed a laugh, rolling her onto his belly, “Was is good enough you’ll call or write me when we go off? If I remember…that stuffy girl’s school isn’t too far from mine.”

Her sculpted lips curled upward, “A hop and a skip they say. Gotta get the lads from somewhere. I’ll be around.”

He grinned and squeezed her. Damn Starks.

#asks answered #au bingo #summer camp!au #jace velaryon x reader #stark!reader #jace velaryon smut #hotd smut

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