#Imperial Tap Room

[deadsetobsessions]

Pt. 3

Again, the timing is icky but pretty much everything about it is icky.

——

Bruce wondered when Talia al Ghul would stop upheaving his life.

He loves Damian, but one surprise child was a lot, considering the cult deprogramming they’d had to do.

A second, older, surprise child? That was a bit overkill.

At least this time, the conception was consensual.

Bruce cradled his head in his hands, still-gloved fingers gripping onto sweat-soaked hair. The glow of the bat computer shone on his lone figure, sat huddled before endless screens of investigations and the unraveling threads of Bruce’s sanity.

How was he to cope with the knowledge that a child- his child, like Dick and Damian and Tim and Jason and- suffered so at the man he thought he had beaten so soundly?

It was his fault, Bruce thought, that Ra’s al Ghul tortured his… Bruce’s… daughter so brutally. It was no doubt, a way to assuage his anger at Bruce’s denial of being his heir.

His mistakes always came back to haunt him, but it never laid its furious eyes and hands on his own person. No, when Bruce made mistakes, his loved ones paid for it.

He tried his best, pushed harder as Batman, in penance. But this… his unknown daughter, trapped in the shadows of the league where it is cold and cruel and brutally painful…

How could he repent for the sin of letting his daughter suffer and chained at the hands of Ra’s al Ghul? How could he show her that the shadows could be kind? That he would rather break his own spine and get lost in the time stream again before he could even fathom hurting her? He found himself stuck in the same loop of thoughts that plagued him when Damian first came into his orbit.

The screens turned black, and Oracle’s call sign flashed onto the dark pixels.

“Oracle. I hadn’t finished looking at the cases.”

“Go to sleep, Bruce.”

“No, there is still work to be-” his voice, dipping into the growl, died a quick death when Barbara cut him off.

“Your daughter is coming tomorrow. So, unless you want to look like a disheveled grease racoon when you meet her, go shower and get some actual sleep.”

Bruce paused, feeling oddly offended. His eye bags weren’t that bad.

Bruce caught sight of his reflection in one of the blacked out monitors.

…Nevermind.

He sighed. “…Thank you, Barbara.”

“Anytime, Bruce. I’m always here to kick your ass into gear.”

Bruce huffed, but obligingly got up to change and shower. Alfred silently appeared at the elevators, polished shoes tapping against the stone floor as he raised an imperious eyebrow at Bruce.

“I see Miss Barbara has managed to persuade you to retire at an hour common to regular man, Master Bruce.”

“Ah, yes, she… did.” Bruce felt the urge to apologize, because if Alfred’s up because of him, it’ll wear down harsher on the older man’s health. If there was one thing he took seriously, it would be the health of his loved ones. “Sorry, Alfred. I’ll head up to bed soon.”

“See to it that you do, Master Bruce. I will warm dinner that you had missed by many hours and bring it to your room.”

Bruce lingered as the butler turned around and began making his way back to the main house.

Alfred paused and turned around once more. “If I may offer you some advice?”

“Please. Always.”

Alfred sniffed delicately, most definitely thinking of the times Bruce decided not to take his very well reasoned and seasoned advice. “You have done well with Young Master Damian.”

“Most of that was Dick,” Bruce interrupted, man enough to admit that he wasn’t a present or a particularly good father figure before his jaunt through time and space. Alfred shot him a chiding look, reprimanding him for interrupting. Bruce rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Perhaps, but you have put in effort towards all of your children in a way that I have yet to see since Master Jason had… gone.”

“I’ll never make that period of time up to Tim.” Bruce whispered. Another thing he was guilty of. Tim still avoided some spaces in the manor, even when Bruce had-

“That is because you sit here, wallowing in your guilt,” Alfred returned. He added a belated “Master Bruce,” and it sounded like ‘you utter buffoon.’

“But…”

“You must take the first step, Master Bruce.”

“What if she hates me? What if I’m not ready- what if I can’t help her?”

“You will try. She deserves that, at the very least. You must try. Even if you are not ready for the day, Master Bruce, it can not always be night.”

“… You’re right.” Bruce straightened his shoulders. Time doesn’t wait. He, of all people, knew that.

“You will find that I am hardly ever wrong.” Alfred primly rested his hands atop each other.

“Thank you, Alfred.”

“Of course. It was also meant literally, Master Bruce, for the sun shall try its best to peek out of Gotham’s smog in approximately three hours and fourteen minutes.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Bruce grouched.

——

Her mother gave her a slow, cautious hug, akin to approaching a wild animal.

She huffed, and pulled her mother into a crushing hug. She allowed herself, for the first time in a long time, to linger and cling onto her mother’s shirt. Another tendency that Ra’s had thought he’d beaten out of her.

“Be careful,” the reincarnation whispered.

“You as well, my beloved daughter.”

‘You do not have to remind me that I am beloved, mother. I know.’

Talia al Ghul tucked a strand of the reincarnation’s curled hair behind her ear. “No, I do not believe that you do. But that is… my own fault. I will tell you and remind you that you are beloved to me as long as I can. I have two decades of it to make up to you, habibti.”

The flight attendant- a League operative- returned from placing her bags onto the private plane.

——

A sleek car made its way up Wayne Manor’s winding driveway. She’d declined the offer to pick her up from the airport. She had wanted a vehicle of her own, and some time before she met every one else. No doubt, knowing what she knew of her brother and Bruce Wayne, not to mention the little photographer, they were most likely tracing her path to Wayne manor obsessively.

She tapped her nails on the wheel as she drove towards her brother. Brothers. And… Bruce Wayne. On one hand, she’s kept them safe. On the other, she’d sacrificed years of getting to know them. It was odd, to feel this intensely awkward and nervous after years of intense hatred or apathy sprinkled by the the occasional love and fondness for Damian and her mother.

“Hmmm.” She hummed, slight smile spreading a bit more as the sound came out without pain. Two weeks, and the novelty of freedom had not worn off. She thinks that it would never wear off. She cherished it.

The gate had opened without needing a code, so they most definitely knew she was here. It’s a good thing she had prepared gifts in advance. Dodging Gothamites as they drove and jaywalked had been a rather unforeseen ordeal that she was not looking forward to repeating.

She rolled to a smooth stop at the front doors, giving the intricately carved oak doors a passing glance. She huffed a laugh as she saw Damian, flanked by Bruce Wayne and Alfred Pennyworth, staring proudly outside at the front door. They’re anticipatory of her arrival. Warmth spread through her heart, and for the first time in a long while, it wasn’t the heat of rage.

She opened the doors with a quiet click and hiss, stepping out onto the heated paved driveway, and closed the door. At the steps, the two older men had frozen but Damian had come walking quickly towards her.

“Damian,” she whispered as he came near her, suffusing as much fondness as she could into his name. Her little brother all but sprinted towards her, screeching to a stop in front of her with excited eyes.

“Welcome to Wayne Manor, ukhti.” He said formally. Her eyes softened and she pulled him into a hug.

(yā waṭawāṭī alṣṣḡīr is the phonetic spelling.) ("وطواطي الصغير" is the actual spelling. I think.)

“I have missed you, ya wat-wat alssgirr,” she whispered. The familiar endearment, “my little bat,” rung warmly like a warm crease ruffling his hair. The silks of her clothes and the ever present warm sand and candle scent wrapped around him like a hug… like the hug she was currently giving him.

(Her clothes were in blues and silvers. It suited her, she who had been forced in green and golds and cuts of black.)

“I still can not believe you all but told me who father was and I still could not figure it out until mother told me.”

She pulled back. ‘Damian, you were five.’

“I have little doubt you were smarter at my age, ukhti, so do not lie to me.” Damian grumbled. Nevertheless, he stepped back.

‘No, you were smarter.’

And to her, he was. It’s not like Damian had the edge she did, and he wasn’t the one trapped for twenty something years. She had foolishly thought that Ra’s wouldn’t dare to harm her too much, seeing as she was his blood, but Damian knew from day 1. She made sure he did. If she was half as smart as Damian, she would have bent her knee and obeyed, no matter how she felt about killing. She would have taken warning Ra’s issued and soaked in the poisonous praise to bide her time to escape. She could not- she did not- do what Damian found effortless, and paid the price for it.

“Unlikely,” Damian said, turning around fully, but she could see the tips of her brother’s ears burning. Ah, perhaps she had been to stingy with compliments if he was shy hearing a mild one, sincere as it might have been. “This is Alfred Pennyworth. He is the butler, and an integral part of the family.”

Damian glanced at her, taking in her suddenly impassive face, and nods. Good. His attitude towards Pennyworth when he first arrived was… mildly shameful. His ukhti was smart enough to know that and therefore he won the argument.

On her part, the reincarnation followed along like she hadn’t mildly stalked this family for decades. It was nice to see excitement rearing on her brother’s face. It was rare in the league and Gotham’s gloom had ironically cheered him up far more than the suns of desserts ever did. She nodded at Alfred Pennyworth, who had admirably recovered from his earlier shock.

“And this is… Bruce Wayne. Our father.”

She tucked a strand of curled hair back, impassive blue eyes meeting her… father’s.

She offered him a short nod.

——

“My word,” Alfred Pennyworth muttered as his charge’s (his son’s) daughter step out of the car. Her steps were silent, graceful, and lighter than a gazelle.

The way she moved, even as she hugged young master Damian, whispered of leashed lethality and treacherous waters. She moved like if grace had a form and Alfred was willing to bet his entire career that not an iota of air got close to her without her knowledge of it, and it reminded the aging man of the young Miss Cassandra. He knew then, that she could have pretended to be unassuming and that he would have had a hard time equating her with danger. That she showed them her potential for death was a sign of trust.

But it was not the way she claimed death as her own name that caught the former spy’s attention.

No.

It was her blue eyes and the way they ever so slightly crinkled fondly as she laid eyes upon her younger brother. It was the way her hair, curled in a nostalgic style, that curtained her face as she spoke to the young Wayne heir, though he could not hear her voice. It was the way that she tucked Damian against her side, protective but encouraging.

It was the way that she, despite Talia al Ghul’s features, resembled his dearest friend, Martha Wayne, in her every movement.

Alfred Pennyworth felt like he was decades younger, standing before Martha as she fondly tucked Bruce against her side and successfully needled Thomas into going to see Bruce’s favorite movie.

It felt like he had his best friend once more, just a little.

From the way Master Bruce stared, it seemed as though he thought the same.

Alfred straightened when young master Damian introduced him. He was the Wayne Family Butler. And she was definitely a Wayne.

Master Bruce stood there like a lout as his daughter greeted him. Alfred shot him a scathing look- he had taught Master Bruce much better manners than to gape, the nerve!- before smoothly directing the attention away. His hands moved as he spoke.

“Welcome to Wayne Manor, Miss-”

She made a sharp motion to cut him off and signed something. Alfred might be a tad rusty in Arabic sign language (like he and the rest of the family hadn’t spent the last two weeks frantically memorizing and brushing up on their sign language) but he knew a name sign when he saw one.

“al Ghul.” Damian recognized. He did not use regular Arabic Sign Language with her often, vastly preferring their own established sign, but that did not mean he slacked. “You may call her al-Ghul.”

‘Or nothing at all,’ Damian’s sister signed. She looked at him like she was waiting. A test, Alfred realized.

Alfred pushed the slight twinge of disheartening disappointment away. He had wanted to call her Miss Wayne, to perhaps indulge in a bit of nostalgia for a while longer. But he shan’t do it at the expense of his charge.

“Miss al Ghul,” he continued, not missing a beat, imitating the name sign with pin point accuracy. She lifted her chin. Alfred sighed in relief. He passed. And now, perhaps he should revive Ra’s al Ghul and have a nice, entirely civil conversation about Miss al Ghul’s expectation that her wishes would go ignored.

Alfred will bring his shotguns and most likely would abandon pretenses as soon as that old goat got into his crosshairs. Old as he might be, he was still a very good shot, and civility was reserved for those with honor.

“Please head inside. I am sure young master Damian would love to guide you on a tour,” Alfred continued like he didn’t think of violent second deaths for Ra’s al Ghul. “Perhaps Master Bruce will join you, if you are amendable, once he has managed to stop imitating the rather life like form of a smooth brained sloth.”

Alfred congratulated himself on the small crinkle of humor that graced Miss al Ghul’s otherwise expressionless face. Well, expressionless to those that did not know where to look. Fortunately, Alfred and the rest of the family were used to stoic caveman micro expressions, courtesy of Bruce, and therefore it would not be much of a problem.

“I will bring your bags up to your room.”

She scrutinized him and then dipped her head.

‘Be careful. There are dangerous things in there.’

“I assure you the utmost privacy in regards to your belongings,” Alfred said.

“Pennyworth will not peruse your belongings, ukhti. He has more honor and respect than that.”

Alfred would like to interrogate Talia al Ghul to see who he must introduce some lead to, that clearly disrespected Miss al Ghul’s privacy like so. But for now, he will bask in the warmth of young master Damian’s implicit trust.

Miss al Ghul nodded. She opened the trunk of the car- the interior of which Alfred could now perceive to be entirely customized and of extremely quality material. She handed the keys and gave him access to her luggage. Then, placing her hand at young master Damian’s shoulder, followed the young master into the halls where she ought to have been raised. Or, at the very least, ought to have taken a step in at least once before today.

Master Bruce lingered at the doorway, torn between following the siblings and helping Alfred with the luggage (read: running away.)

“The daylight is wasting, Master Bruce.”

Master Bruce skittered in behind them like a newborn colt, wobbling and anxious.

Well, it’s time for Alfred to do his job. There was only a single duffle bag.

Hm. He’ll have to tell Master Bruce to take her out for necessities. He hardly doubted that a single bag could last her very long. And Alfred Pennyworth was hellbent on convincing his granddaughter to stay, may the gods have mercy on whichever poor soul that tried to convince her otherwise for he won’t.

——

She followed Damian as he led her deeper within the walls of a home she knew by heart from afar. She was like the little photographer in that way. Bruce Wayne trailed behind them like a particularly awkward ghoul, and she found it amusing to equate this turtle necked man was the illustrious Dark Knight. How dangerous.

“This is the first parlor. It is for guests of the… regular persuasion.”

Ah, for the civilians. She nodded.

“Ah, the silverware was selected by Alfred.” Bruce interjected, gesturing to the display silverware by the door. Their cabinets were intricate without taking away from the paintings upon the delicate ceramic.

She looked at him, wondering why he was following before giving up and nodding. It was his house.

(Bruce, for his part, felt like his daughter had laid judgement upon him… and found him lacking.)

‘It is… adequate.’ She sighed to Damian. Damian tutted.

“It’s fine to say quaint, sister. It could hardly compare to the palace.”

Bruce jolted, plans for converting the manor into a palace already in the making.

No, he couldn’t. Alfred would murder him with his favorite dish.

‘I like it, even if it is smaller.’

“….you do?”

‘You are happy here. It is warm to you. I like it.’ She repeated.

Damian latched onto her sleeve. “I- I shall show you my art. And then introduce you to the rest of the bumbling fools we have for brothers-”

She tilted her head. Bruce paused as well when Damian’s words cut off.

“If… you want them as brothers. It would be… helpful, to integrate.”

She waited.

“But… I am the first. Your blood. And-”

‘I will make room in my heart for them, if you wish it. I already know some of them.’ She allowed a small smile to show. ‘But that does not mean you will ever lose your place, little bat.’

Damian felt extremely thankful that father had not managed to pick up their version of sign language yet.

“Well… as long as you’re aware.” He marched further into the manor. She followed, once more, a look of fond indulgence gleaming in her eyes.

——

She stood in front of a painting her younger brother had done.

‘I made it two weeks ago,’ he’d told her, fingers curled into her palm.

It was green. She hated green. And gold. And ominous. Rage. Harsh, bold strokes and spots where the texture of the canvas were either globbed over or painfully showing through.

Her hands traced the single stroke of blue amidst the turbulence of green.

She tucked Damian against her side and realized that perhaps he understood after all, what it felt like. Perhaps not all of it, but enough.

——

“Here is your room, ukhti.” Damian stood watch as his sister scanned the room. She quickly removed three listening devices as Damian sighed.

‘You’ve gotten better.’ She crossed the room and plucked the listening bug from its place on the door frame.

“Clearly not good enough.” Damian huffed. “But I have beaten your knife game record. What do you think of the room?”

His sister rolled her eyes and handed him a blade she pulled from somewhere on her person.

An implicit challenge.

“No cutting your fingers off, please.” Father interceded.

“Begone, father. We are doing sibling bonding, something I remember you insisting that I participate in.”

Damian shut the door on his stupefied face, matching his sister’s sharp smirk as he splayed his hand on the dresser and raised the blade.

——

Alfred walked in with a covered plate and paused at the sight of the dresser.

Then, he looked on as Damian sat at the desk, rapidly signing to his sister in their own version of the language as said sister pulled out an entire wardrobe and a half to fill in the walk-in closet.

Alfred made a note to study some more magic.

“Miss al-Ghul. I bring you a snack that young master Damian made and to inform you that the others will be arrive en masse, within an hour.” Alfred paused. “Might I interest you in a mat before the two of you decide to… take a gander at furniture redecoration in the future?”

“Of course, Pennyworth. Apologies.”

“I’ll try to make sure they won’t overwhelm you. They can be a lot, at once.” Bruce said from the doorway. Miss al Ghul glanced at him and dipped her head in thanks. Her eyes wandered right back to the dessert.

Alfred made another note.

‘You made this for me?’ She asked, switching to standard.

Damian grumbled. “Do not eat it. I could not get the spice quite right, no matter how many variations…”

‘I am sure it will be good.’ She took the plate from Alfred’s hand and uncovered it.

They all had the fortune of witnessing a true, genuine wide eyed smile from a stoic face.

Alfred inhaled sharply. He had thought Master Bruce and young master Damian had inherited Thomas’ dimples. But she had inherited his entire smile.

‘Bstilla!’ She turned to Damian. ‘My favorite! You made this?’

“I know that. I am not incompetent as to not notice when you snuck three of them from the palace kitchens. You must give me the recipe from the cooks. I could not get it to taste like the spices they used. I even imported spices!”

Miss al-Ghul, like she had forgotten he and Master Bruce were there, stabbed a fork into the pie and put it into her mouth.

“Ukhti! Don’t- do not eat that! Spit it out! The pastry is too thick and-”

She held up her hand. ‘It’s good. I know what it is missing.’

She strode to her magic bag and pulled out a bottle.

She sprinkled flakes on top and offered a forkful of b’stilla to the young master who, shockingly, did not insist on his own utensil.

His expression lightened. “This is it. What is it? You know of the chefs’ methods?”

She sprinkled the mysterious spice on the food. ‘You’ve never eaten anything the chefs have made. I made your food by hand to prevent assassinations and inoculate you against toxins. Also, this is poison.’

Alfred stiffened.

“It’s what?!” Bruce spoke up, rushing into the room, finally to try and look Damian over.

‘It is fine. He has been immune since he was three.’

Miss al Ghul placed a piece of poisoned b’stilla in her mouth and ate. Young master Damian batted his father off, saying that poison inoculation was hardly a surprise. What was a surprise, though, was something else.

“That is- you- you’re the one who made my meals?” Young Master Damian demanded, looking guilty. “But- I- why did you not tell me? I made all of those demands in the middle of the night- what about the time I sent back the knafe fifteen times?”

She nodded.

“Why would you- why did you not tell me?”

‘You knew what grandfather thought of women. And besides, it was the only time I was allowed sweets. He did not want me to ruin my figure as it would lower my marketability.’

Alfred itched for his gun.

“You are not a commodity,” Master Bruce stated, intense as he tended to be. Miss al Ghul blinked at him.

‘… I am aware. But… thank you.’

“Ah. Yes. Of course.” And there went the emotionally intelligent Master Bruce. May he rest in peace until the next time he decides to make an appearance.

“I believe today is a chocolate chip cookie day, do you not, young master Damian?”

“Yes, Pennyworth, I believe it is.”

‘I have never tried it before.’

“You will love it. Pennyworth’s cookies are the best in the world, as is expected.”

Alfred watched as young master Damian tugged his sister out and marveled. The sides of his grandson they rarely get to see was so easily pulled out by his older sister.

——

Y’all I wanted to write her meeting the siblings but Alfred came out of no where and went haha nope feel the angst of a man who lost his best friend and had to raise her vigilante child.

Alfred, seeing Bruce put on the bat cowl for the first time: martha, why have you forsaken me

——

Me: what would baby assassins play as a binding game?

Me, remembering my past as a kid: I Spy, but with trackers and bugs. oh wait… THE KNIFE GOES CHOP CHOP CHOP

——

Also, I think B’stilla was food meant only for royalty and was probably rooted in slavery, so I thought it would be a meaningful nod to her position of privilege and how she are like a king but was treated as a… bed warmer and a slave. Yeah. If anyone knowledgeable on food history wants to school me on b’stilla, feel free to do so. I did like, a cursory research at best.

[athenaluthor]

Hesitation - Darth Vader

Summary: Husband!Vader has been on his ship for far too long. His very pregnant wife has come to fetch him.

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, Unburnt!Vader, Domestic!Vader, Husband!Vader, established relationship, fluff , porn with plot, wife!reader, PiV, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it please), creampie, mentions of children, mentions of Emperor Palps (he's his own red flag), same universe as my other fic here

Word count ~ 3.6k (unedited)

masterlist

Vader hasn't left his ship in days. Regularly occupied by the matters of the Empire, it was not uncommon for him to be absorbed in his work. More often than not, he would work late into the night until he lost track of time. Rest and sleep were put aside until he was satisfied with the work. To make matters worse, food and drinks his attendants provided were also regularly left untouched in favor of his work.

Although many would prefer it, his wife had decided to not let him rot on the Executor. After all, she prefers him alive and well. It also is not helpful that the current chatter among the Imperial ranks was that Lord Vader despised her and would rather confine himself to his ship than be with his very pregnant wife.

On some occasions, one could say that it was indeed true. Vader was nothing but dedicated to his work, or the Dark Side if we're being honest. But for the most part, Vader is practically glued to her. If he could chain her to their bed, he would.

That being said, no one dared to disturb him on his ship. Vader's temper was infamously catastrophic, mercurial. He could go from calm and collected, to being the embodiment of chaos and destruction. To make matters worse, her third pregnancy is proving far more difficult than the other two. The pain borders on unbearable and she struggles to walk even short distances.

Walking through the doors of his private office aboard the ship, she searches it for her husband. The cold wave of air sends a chill down her spine, making her shiver. She clutches her fur shawl closer to her body, trying to keep warm. The sight of Vader standing and looking over his war table, greets her. He was surely ready to chew out whomever had bothered him, clearly engulfed in his work.

Turning around, Vader's anger dissipates. Seeing his wife slowly walking towards him, taking careful steps to ensure she wouldn't slip and injure herself or god forbid, her baby has that effect on him. Naturally, Vader wastes no time in slipping off his helmet and crossing the room to her. Instinctively, he holds out his arm for her to use as support and walks her over to the sofa. Vader adjusts the few cushions on the absurdly large and plush sofa to support her back and helps her sit.

“What are you doing here?” he all but yells, kneeling down in front of her to slip off her shoes. Setting her shoes aside, Vader massages her swollen feet.

“When ones’ husband does not return home to his wife for days in favor of a ship, people talk. Not to mention, the boys miss you as well.”

“A few things are taking longer than I expected. I planned on coming home yesterday.” he replies, eyes avoiding her. He opts to focus his vision on her feet and massaging out the knots.

“I know. Your schedule isn't exactly a secret to me.”

“Things don't always go as planned.”

“Well, rebels and incompetent Imperial officers will do that.” she replies nonchalantly.

“Did you walk all the way from the landing bay to here?”

“Yes. It's not a very short walk, you know.”

Vader's face grows darker with what she assumes is rage or frustration. She reaches out to grab his gloved hand and toy with his fingers.

“I know. The walk is not suitable for a woman who's heavily pregnant!” he replies sternly, clearly unhappy with her choice.

Standing up, he walks over to the side table and buzzes for an attendant. Seconds later, one rushes in, face riddled with anxiety and fear.

“Yes, Lord Vader?” her voice quivers slightly. Clearly frightened in anticipation of Vader's wrath.

He orders her to bring in a selection of drinks and food, barely acknowledging her presence.

The attendant looks somewhat relieved at his request, probably grateful he wasn't directing his wrath at her. Her eyes flicker over to Vader's wife briefly before she quickly steps out of the room.

Quietly, Vader rearranges the cushions in the couch again and gestures for his wife to lay down. Tired and uncomfortable, she happily obliges. Vader helps her lay down, adjusting things here and there to ensure her comfort.

He fusses like a mother hen, she muses to herself.

Sitting down beside her, his hand gently caresses her large bump, a comfortable silence washing over them.

Soon, he thought. Soon, they would be free from the Emperor's clutches. His sons wouldn't be forced to serve the Emperor as he had, his wife wouldn't have to keep birthing him children if she didn't want to. He would give her anything, she gave him a second chance of life when he squandered it.

The baby wastes no time and gives a rather hard kick to Vader's hand, earning a groan from his mother.

“Your son is not letting me sleep. He can't stop moving or kicking or tensing! Everything just hurts.” she angrily says.

Vader reaches out into the force, searching for his unborn son's signature. The boy was warm and his signature was pure, untainted. Vader soothes and calms him down, sensing how tense his wife truly was.

“Have you seen the doctors? Make sure there's nothing wrong with you or the baby.” he asks, concern lacing his voice.

“I have. The baby is just, I don't know, active? The doctors say he's active. Our boys weren't exactly easy pregnancies but I wasn't this uncomfortable with them.”

The squeaky wheels of a cart interrupts them, they both turn their heads to the attendant walking in. Pushing a metal cart that was filled with a few drinks and an assortment of snacks, the attendant asks if they would need anything else.

Vader dismisses the attendant and turns his attention back to his wife.

“Uncomfortable or painful? You need to be honest. I have seen you pregnant, I know you're in pain.” Vader says accusingly.

She doesn't reply. Instead, she opts to run her hands along his suit. Eventually inching up to his face where she runs her fingers across his jaw,his cheek and even his nose.

Vader leans into her, reveling in the contrast of her soft touch against his skin. The way she looked at him so reverently, as if he hung up the stars for her.

In all truth, he would. He wouldn’t even hesitate or question her. He would do anything she asked him to. He didn't deserve this kind of love. He didn't deserve this gentleness and patience. Not after what he's done. Yet, he lets her. He knows he shouldn't let her, but he does every time. She wants to give him all her love and care, yet he feels so desperately undeserving of it. He has tainted her, no matter how hard he tries to, he can't stop himself.

He can't stop himself when she begs him to take her to bed and make love to her or fuck her mindless. He can't stop himself when she's begging him to fill her womb with his seed and give her another baby. Not when she's brought his sons into the world. She has carried and birthed two of his children. Now, she's carrying his third and Vader can feel that she's weaker this time. He won't admit it, he can't admit it.

The dark side in him feeds off this worry, telling him that he will lose her. Telling him that he will lose her to childbirth and the child he put in her will bring her to her death. He condemned her to death the same way he did Padme.

“Stop.” her voice breaks him out of his trance.

She continues “You're spiraling out. You're here yet you're miles away and we can't have that.”

She looks over at the cart and turns to him. With a soft smile on her face she makes him an offer he can't resist.

“How about you eat with me,hmm? I don't have any appetite when I'm alone. Eating with you always helps.”

So, they eat together in silence. The spread of food had enough variety for her not to feel sick. Vader has no protests, as long as she eats. The baby is well-nourished and so is she. She wastes no time in eating her food, having a taste of everything. Vader remembers she is always hungry at this stage of pregnancy, for food and for him. He didn't mind.

Truth be told, he couldn't care if people thought he was pulling away from her. It couldn't be further from the truth. Vader was largely focused on her, his two sons and his unborn child. Everything he did was for them. His plans of betraying Palpatine is all for them. His wife's third pregnancy had thrown a wrench in his plans of overtaking Palpatine. Trying to move her somewhere in this state, he simply couldn't risk it. He didn't want her to be caught in the crossfire while pregnant, not when she is this vulnerable.

The stress could bring harm to both her and the baby. If anything happens to either of them, the dark side would surely dig its claws deeper into him.

Palpatine would also surely take the first chance at killing his pregnant wife if he retaliated. If this happens, the dark side will consume him completely, he thinks. He can't let his boys see that.

Vader also wants to be there for the birth. He wants to make sure she would live through it. Once she's safely given birth safely he prays, he'll have her and the children hidden. Hidden somewhere safe, somewhere protected where no one will be able to find them or hurt them.

Only then will he take on Palpatine. Only then will he destroy his wretched master. He will make Palpatine suffer for all he's taken away from him. Yet, Vader still hesitates. Would this be the right course of action?

Vader was a fool not to see Palpatine’s plans. He believed that Palpatine truly allowed him to have another wife as a reward for his work. In truth, Palpatine wanted his children for his sick and twisted plots. Vader felt his blood run cold and his stomach churn when Palpatine suggested his eldest son be trained in the ways of the dark side soon.

“Will you come home tonight? Perhaps even tuck them in?” Her voice is timid, almost as if she's testing the waters. She doesn't realize it, but her voice snaps him back to reality, grounding him to the world around him.

“Alright. We'll head home soon.” Vader leans in to kiss her, his kiss is passionate yet gentle.

His hand gently weaves itself into her hair and she has no qualms about it. Vader’s kiss tastes sweet, like the fruits he's eaten off the spread and somehow she adores him even more now. The smell of his armor is both comforting and arousing, making her head spin

Vader pushes her fur scarf off her body, exposing her cleavage to him. Laying down, Vader thinks she looks like an angel, a kriffing angel.

Hair tousled and skin warmed, her breasts on display for him. The look in her eyes is one of love and lust which has Vader feeling like a teenage boy with his cock tightening in his pants.

Luckily for him, she's wearing one of her breastfeeding dresses. Vader pulls her dress away from her chest, exposing her to him.

“Vader!” she exclaims loudly, hands swatting him away. “What?” he mischievously grins at her.

“Not here. What if someone enters?”

“I'd kill them” Vader replies nonchalantly.

Vader's tongue moves to toy with one of her nipples, earning a rather erotic groan from her. He gently sucks on her nipple while his hand toys with the other.

Her hand weaves itself into his soft, blonde curls, gripping and tugging it gently as she falls into the fit of pleasure.

Vader moves his attention to her neck, kissing and sucking, leaving red marks in his wake. The smell of her perfume and body oils drives him crazy. When he pulls away, the sight of her flushed face has him breathless and his cock hard.

Vader tugs his gloves off, setting them aside on the cart of food and drinks. Then, he gets between her legs and slowly shifts her skirt up to expose her soaking wet panties. Vader pulls her panties off, tossing them somewhere in the room.

Vader slides two fingers in and out of her, earning moans that any man would beg to hear.

“You smell so sweet and you're so wet. Is all this for me,hmm?” he teases her.

Dizzy from pleasure, she struggles to answer.

“Mmhm..Oh! Who else has me like this?”

“Should I fuck you right here? On this couch, where anyone can walk in,hmm?” he asks.

“I want you. I want you to fuck me, husband” she whines to him.

Satisfied with her answer, Vader leans down and his tongue fiddles with her clit while his fingers pump in and out of her. Her cunt tastes sweet just like her and within minutes, he has her bucking her hips and arching her back, moaning while she grows closer to her climax.

When she does, her body trembles and she tries to close her legs as he continues to suck on her clit and finger her. His fingers move with a come hither motion making her squeal. Her body is always so sensitive when pregnant. Vader loved to see how many times he could make her cum all over him before she couldn't take anymore.

“Ohh, Vader! Vader!” she moans.

Vader continues until she comes undone a second time, her walls clamping down on his finger so tightly he could barely them. Her thighs shake as he sucks harder on her clit and she tries to squirm away from him.

Her thighs wrap around his head and Vader thinks that he could stay there forever. Vader pulls his fingers out of her and his mouth dives right into her pussy, lapping up all her juices.

His wife tries to push him away, clearly it was too much for her. Vader grips her thighs tightly, preventing her from moving away.

Then, he adjusts her on the couch. He helps her get on her knees and positions her so her belly is supported by the couch cushions. Her hands grip the back of the couch for support, preparing to take Vader. Taking her in a back shot position is one of his favorites.

Vader discards his codpiece in record time and unzips himself to free his hard cock. Vader lines his cock up to her and thrusts himself in, her pussy was so wet, it was barely resisting him. He groan loudly as his cock sinks into her warm and wet pussy.

Vader thrusts himself in and out of her, the sounds of their skin slapping only spurring them on. His head moves to the side of her neck, breathing in her scent as one of his hands wraps around her neck gently.

Her moans and pants are music to his ears, he knows she adores it when he's like this. He thrusts into her slow and deep, shifting the angle of his hips to hit the right spots. It takes him all of his control not to fuck the living daylights out of her.

Vader grunts out between his thrusts “You feel so good around me,wife. My wife, the mother of my children, takes my cock so well. Even when you're this pregnant, you still spoil me.”

The hand on her throat moves to clutch her belly. His other hand moves down her swollen belly and to toy with her clit, making her moan loudly.

Vader's thrusts speed up slightly as he rubs her clit, “How long will it take for you to cum this time? You look so good falling apart for me, my darling wife”.

Vader continues his thrusts and the hand on her clit doesn't stop until she comes undone. When she cums, Vader continues to move his cock in and out of her, making her moan and whimper louder. Her walls grip him so tight, it has him grunting as he tries to thrust.

“Vader, Vader, Vader! It's too much! Can't take it, hmmph!” she whimpers.

“I haven't finished yet, my pretty wife. I'm going to fill you up with my cum.” Vader whispers in her ear.

His thrusts now pick up speed as he chases his climax and his fingers on her clit expertly help her get closer to her fourth orgasm as well. Her moans and his grunts fill the room, the sound of their skin slapping against each other echo loudly.

“You're so tight! Too much,hmm? My poor wife can't handle my cock!” He grunts in her ear.

He's close. He's so close and so is he. He ruts into her wildly as he feels her fourth orgasm nearing. She orgasms again, legs shaking as she tries to hold on until he shoots his load deep inside her. She's seeing stars trying not to faint from how good this feels.

“I'm going to cum! Take it, take it” he yells as he shoots his cum inside her. The feeling of being so full of him and his cum has her so dizzy. Her entire body shakes and she's panting as Vader slowly finishes his thrusts.

Vader pulls out of her and the stimulation has her whimpering. His cum drips out of her and onto her thighs and the couch.

Then, he helps her limp body to lay down on the couch. He's careful to lay enough cushions to support her as he lays there satiated and panting. Cleaning himself up, he zips up his pants and places his codpiece back on.

Taking a few tissues, he wipes down the mess he's made between her legs. The contact has her moving away, clearly overstimulated.Then, he helps to adjust her dress and cover her breasts.

“Was that too much, hmm?” Vader asks as he brushes her hair out of her face.

She shakes her head. “It was good. Just what I needed. Though, I don't think I can walk home after this.” she says to him.

Vader leans down to give her a kiss on the cheek before handing her a glass of water with a straw from the cart.“You don't have to. I'll carry you.”

She drinks it under his watchful eye. “I'm doing alright today. The baby is active but the pain isn't too bad. Nothing more than usual. You need not worry, husband.” She says to him.

Vader doesn't answer, merely standing up to grab his helmet and putting it on. He walks over to her and grabs the glass to put it aside.

He picks her up and carries her all the way back to her little ship in the landing bay. Ignoring the eyes of the Imperial officers and stormtroopers, she lays her head on him despite his hard armor poking her head.

By the time they reach her ship, she's fast asleep. Only waking when he straps her into one of the seats. He starts the ship and flies it out the Executor's landing bay down to Coruscant.

Once home, Vader helps her pump her milk since she missed a feeding to go fetch him on his ship. Then,he helps his very sleepy wife freshen up for the night and change into something comfortable for the night. He made sure to rub some ointments on her to soothe her aches and help her sleep.

After he tucks her into bed, he unlatches his helmet and looks out into the nighttime skyline of Coruscant. Bustling with lights and music, filled with party-goers and dwellers from all parts of the galaxy. He turns to look at his wife, sound asleep in his bed looking like an angel. A kriffing angel.

Shedding his armor, Vader heads into the shower. Relieved to wash the day away and calm down, he stands under the warm water for a while. All was well for now. His wife was sound asleep in their bed, his kids were too probably.

Finishing his shower, he gets dressed and heads to his sons’ rooms. Their rooms weren't far, just across from his and his wife's. Close enough for him to get to them if anything were to happen. Nothing would, not under his watch.

He quietly slips into his eldest's room first. The five-year old boy lays sprawling on his bed, blonde curls poking about wildly. His blanket was at the edge of the bed, almost kicked off by the aggressive sleeper that was his son. His son was the most deep sleeper he's seen. An earthquake could happen and the boy would still sleep.

Vader readjusts the boy so he lays properly on his pillow and he slides the blanket back on. He checks the monitor and gives his son a kiss on the forehead before leaving to check on his youngest.

His youngest is now 14 months old. A joyful thing, really. He's always smiling and laughing, following his older brother around.

Vader peers into the boy’s crib to see him clutching his toy purrgil tightly. Vader gives him a kiss and checks the monitor as well before heading to his home office.

Sitting in his chair, he stares at the holo screens in front of him. Now or never, he thinks. He has to put his plans into place if wants to beat Palpatine soon.

He can't hesitate. He has to be sure. Hesitation will get him and his family killed.

His gaze moves to the little clay sculpture of him he has on his desk. It was one his five year old son made for him at school.

He won't hesitate.

Darth Vader does not hesitate.

[beansprean]

A mini comic for "Your Biggest Fan" by @phasmama (part 1 of ?)

I just love comic-fying fics idk!! why dont u commission me about it

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Knees up of Guillermo, wearing brown chinos and a short sleeved peach shirt unbuttoned to his chest, sitting down heavily at the edge of his cot beneath the stairs. He looks flushed, sweaty, and tired, elbows planted on his knees as he slumps forward with a heavy sigh, holding something in his dangling hands. His phone is laying face up on the bed nearby. A small icon in the top left corner reads '82 degrees Fahrenheit', which is about 28 degrees Celsius. 1b. Close up of Guillermo's hands as they shift to reveal what he's holding: a vintage folding fan with a brassy silver-tipped guard inlaid with pink rose patterns. He holds it closed, one hand on either end, a riot of colors on the folded leaf suggesting an intricate pattern within. 1c. Repeat. Guillermo flips the fan open with the rivet in his right hand to reveal the design within: an intricate painting of people in robes and dresses standing in front of a series of columns and statues. 1c. Zoom out to wide shot; waist up. Guillermo tips his head back, eyes closed, and smiles in bliss as he fans himself, little swirls of blue snowflakes indicating the cooling effect. 1d. Repeat. The phone sitting on the bed beside him suddenly lights up, a red alarm-clock-shaped icon springing up with a loud ring, reading 'back to work!' Guillermo opens his eyes and frowns, irritated. In a swift motion, he snaps the fan closed and swings it around to tap at the screen, turning the alarm off without looking.

2a. Chest up of Guillermo at 3/4 angle as he slumps over with another heavy sigh, eyes closing as he begins to sweat and flush again from the heat. His right hand holds the closed fan up idly near his face. 2b. Extreme close up of Guillermo's mouth as he absently touches the tip of the fan to his lower lip, pressing into the pink flesh. 2c. Reverse shot, wide, Guillermo in profile in the foreground and the curtain to his room beyond. It is yanked open suddenly to reveal Nandor standing beyond, wearing a brass colored tunic and sleeveless fur overcoat and posed with one hand on his hip. He shouts imperiously, "Guillermo!" and prepares to give orders. Guillermo doesn't even flinch at the intrusion, just blearily opens his eyes halfway with the fan still pressed to his mouth.

3a. Waist up of Guillermo at 3/4 angle as he rolls his head up to look at Nandor with an expectant frown, closed fan held up in his right hand. 3b. Waist up of Nandor at a diagonal angle, background all black with a white starburst of shock as Nandor stares down at Guillermo, frozen and gray, with wide eyes and a slack jaw. 3c. Wide shot, shoulders up of Guillermo in profile in the foreground, Nandor knees up in the background. Guillermo looks at him with half-open eyes, closed fan poised in front of his face and a question mark drifting around his head. Nandor continues to stare with the largest eyes possible, frozen in place with one arm still outstretched to hold the curtain aside. 3d. Repeat. Nandor finally snaps out of it and swings his free arm up to point accusingly at Guillermo, shouting angrily, "What are you doing with that, Guillermo? That is not a toy for naughty familiars to be playing with!" Guillermo opens his eyes fully and looks down at the fan in surprise.

4a. Shoulders up of Guillermo staring in surprise at his open hand as Nandor quickly snatches the fan from him. 4b. Waist up of Nandor from Guillermo's POV as he leans away, holding the closed fan in his right hand and hiding it protectively behind his left cheek. He stares wide eyed and flustered down at Guillermo and whines, "This is very special, given to me by the Queen of Laszlo's homeland! 4c. Waist up of them both in profile as Guillermo stands from his bed, rubbing sweat from his cheek with a forearm. Nandor takes a step back in alarm, still holding the fan protectively out of reach. Guillermo says, "I'm sorry, Master. I shouldn't have touched it. What did you need my help with?" 4d. Repeat. Nandor calms and straightens up, looking away nervously as he replies, "Oh! Yes. I would like to have a cooling bath. Come attend me. Guillermo slumps again and sighs, obediently responding "Of course, Master." 4e. Later; full body of Nandor lounging in an old fashioned brass tub filled with ice water on a hazy green background. The tub seems much too small for him; he is sitting up with his elbows perched on the far end and his left leg bunched up in front of him, knee poking out from the water. His right leg is fully extended and hanging over the edge of the tub. Nandor's hair is gathered up in a messy bun and he is holding the fan in his right hand, staring at it thoughtfully as he opens and closes it with a thumb. /end ID

[reighfall]

Warning: Blood, death

Word Count:1.3k

Previous - Next

Chapter 1: Uncertain future 

Crowds cheered for the arrival of General Marcus Acacius, hailed as a hero for conquering yet another distant land in Rome’s name. His victory added to Rome’s growing glory, and he was greeted by none other than the Emperors themselves. Rose petals were scattered at his feet as he ascended the grand steps of the palace, his gaze fixed on the imperial Emperors as he approached them.

“I have taken Numidia in your name, that your dominion may eclipse that of every emperor who came before you,” Acacius declared, his voice strong and resolute.

“Crown him with laurels, brother,” Emperor Caracalla said, his voice filled with approval.

Emperor Geta stepped forward, placing a crown of gold upon Acacius’s head. But unbeknownst to the gathered crowd, a pair of watchful eyes observed this moment from one of the palace windows. Hidden from view, Celenia stood silently, her expression unreadable. After a moment, she turned away, her ancillas following her quietly.

Time Skip (A micro time skip)

Inside the grand hall, the emperors and General Acacius drank the finest wine Rome had to offer, celebrating the conquest. The laughter and chatter filled the air.

"In honor of your conquest, there will be games in the Colosseum," Geta announced, his voice carrying excitement.

"I require no games in my honor," Acacius replied gallantly, his tone humble. "Serving the Senate and the people of Rome is honor enough for me."

"You are too modest, Acacius," Geta said, looking at the general with a sly smile. "That does not suit a general as accomplished as yourself."

"Your glory is yours, not mine," Acacius replied. "I only ask for some respite from war, to spend time with my wife."

"Your wife, yes," Caracalla said with a smirk. "Remember the privilege we have granted her? Where is she? Is she to ignore such occasions?"

"There are victories still to come," Geta said, his voice turning serious as he grabbed a sword from a nearby soldier. "Persia, India—both must be conquered." He tapped the blade of the sword on Acacius’s shoulder, then rested it near his neck.

"Rome has so many subjects; she must feed them," Acacius said, his gaze unwavering as he met Geta’s eyes.

"They can eat war!" Caracalla chimed in, flashing a grin and showing off his golden tooth.

Geta threw the sword to the ground, the blade sliding across the floor and clattering near the pool. The motion caused a small cut on Acacius's neck, and the sharp sound echoed through the room. "Your triumphs will be celebrated, as tribute to the greatness of the Roman people," Geta said, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Acacius, his tone taking on a more unpleasant edge.

The general did not reply, but nodded slightly, a gesture of respect and submission.

"Our sister will be in attendance..." Caracalla said, his voice filled with anticipation. "What a glorious celebration this will be," he added, laughing as though savoring the thought.

Hanno’s POV

I sat in a wagon, bound and broken, being carried off to who knows where. From the small gaps between the bars, I could see people tending to their flocks, hear insults being thrown at us, and see bits of trash hurled in our direction. We were soon pulled from the wagon, shackles on our hands and feet, and led into a strange, chaotic place. The air was thick with strange noises—animals, perhaps, or worse.

"Macrinus of Thysdrus, master of gladiators!" someone yelled from the crowd, and cheers erupted from all around.

We were about to be led into a coliseum. "Stay close," I whispered to Jugurtha, not knowing what would happen next. The noise of animals going wild in their cages grew louder as we entered.

Inside this smaller Colosseum, the crowd jeered and threw rotten fruits and vegetables at us. The announcer shouted his piece, his voice barely audible over the hostile uproar. Slowly, a door creaked open, releasing a swarm of monkeys into the arena. The crowd went wild, shouting and throwing more objects, spurring the animals into a frenzy.

I tried to shield Jugurtha, but he—he gave up. Without a word, he knelt to the ground, his eyes closed, as if he sought nothing more than to join his ancestors in death. The animals were upon him instantly. I could only watch in helpless silence as they tore into him, his body crumpling under their savage onslaught.

The beast that had killed him, still snarling and bloodied, turned its attention to me. In a burst of fury, I swung my chains, knocking it back. Its blood dripped from its mouth as it stumbled. But it didn’t stop. It charged again, its teeth bared. It slammed into me, knocking me to the ground, and I fought with everything I had. I sank my teeth into its arm, pulling it away from me, and hurled it back with all my strength.

The animal growled in rage, charging at me once more. This time, I was ready. I caught it by the throat, squeezing with all my might until its struggles ceased. Its body went limp in my hands.

For a long moment, I stood there, chest heaving, staring down at Jugurtha, his lifeless body on the ground blood pooled from his neck. The roar of the crowd echoed around me, but all I could hear was the deafening silence in my own mind. I had survived, but at what cost?

End of POV

Celenia was spending time with Lucilla, like she always does, sitting near a pool of water, looking at the water lilies and fish swimming around. It was peaceful, until she heard the doors open and in come Acacius.

“My lady…” he said smiling it his wife “Princess” turning to Celenia bowing with a smile

“I thank the gods that brought you back home safely.” Lucilla said to her husband

“Thank the army. They protected me.” Acacius said

Celenia only turned to them watching their interaction, the two have formed a friendship full of love. She could only watch, but turned back to the small pool dipping her fingers in.

“Will you be joining us for supper?” Lucilla asked the princess, stroking her hair

“ I must be on my way, it is getting dark.” Celenia smiled at her

~ Time Skip ~

Celenia was now in the comforts of her room, she preferred to eat in there as well enjoining the peace and quiet. Looking out on her balcony the overlooked Rome, the silence was broken, by her brothers.

“There will be a feast tomorrow to celebrate our newly conquered land. And will require your presence.” Geta said looking at her as she stood on her balcony looking out not sparing a glance.

Their relationship was civil, they did not act as if they were siblings caring for one another, but they understood each other well enough.

“I do not like celebrations.” she said blankly

“This isn’t a question on if you will attend or not, I am simply informing you of tomorrow's events.” Geta said to her in an annoyed tone “if you do not want to attend then simply make an appearance, I do not care… But if I do not see you,” He said, stepping closer to her, taking her hair and moving it aside “there will be consequences” he said into her ear.

She nodded in agreement, still not sparing him a glance. “Now that is settled, good night, sister.” Geta said walking out her room and the guards closing the door behind them. 

Celenia looked up at the stars, wondering how her life ended up this way. Wondering if it will be different if Lucius hadn’t disappeared from her life, she could only pray to the Gods above, to protect and guide her.

[hiddengryffindor]

Wrapped around my finger (Sebastian Sallow x F!MC) WARNING: HARD SMUT

Summary: MC is currently in their seventh year, but during her fifth year, she made the fateful decision to betray Sebastian by turning him in. Now, it appears that he has managed to escape from Azkaban and has returned, seeking revenge. Will he make her pay for her betrayal, or is there another twist in store?

So yeah... I'm jus going to leave this here... Have a nice day <3

This one shot contains: bondage, a little too much of noncon, biting, fingering, p in v sex, spanking, choking, and a very dom sebby, use of the imperious curse for sexual intentions

ALL UNDERAGE CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP!

Word count: 10,455

I'm sorry if you see a few mistakes on the writing, English is not my first language

enjoy

Finally, after an extensive period of time, she had achieved mastery over her ancient magic, utilizing it to bring to life things that had once only resided within the confines of her imagination. Occasionally, she would venture to Hogsmeade, offering assistance to fellow witches and wizards in need. Her sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts were occupied with numerous responsibilities, as her professors were well aware of her exceptional abilities, and her classmates held her in high regard. Her proficiency in ancient and fundamental magic far surpassed her years.

The chilly autumn breeze tapped gently on the windows of the Gryffindor tower. It had already grown quite late, well past curfew. She found herself sprawled atop the large couch, positioned in front of the roaring fireplace in the Gryffindor common room. Her eyes remained closed, her face serene, while the dancing flames above her silhouette illuminated the room. Despite being the coldest of nights, the Gryffindor common room always exuded a warmth and coziness that she found irresistible. Although she had the option to utilize the Room of Requirement at any time, she couldn't resist the homely embrace of those walls and rugs surrounding her. A book rested upon her chest, rising and falling gently with her calm breaths, as she lay on her back.

Suddenly, her tranquility was disrupted by faint, rapid knocking sounds. She let out a groan and grasped the pillow beneath her head, covering her face with a wearied expression. This was her way of indicating to the prefects and head boys and girls that she desired peace and rest. She was well aware that it was late, but the comfort of the common room couch was too enticing. It was as if the couch would beg her not to depart whenever she attempted to rise, whispering, "Wait! Don't leave me! Let me embrace you a while longer!" A small smirk escaped her lips as she imagined the couch pleading for her company.

However, the knocking sounds persisted, quick and persistent, causing her to realize that this interruption might not be the work of a prefect or another student in the common room. She removed the plush pillow from her face and sought the source of the knocking. A cry from an owl drew her attention to one of the windows, where a black owl with golden eyes peered at her from outside the glass. She narrowed her gaze at the creature and approached the window, her expression marked with confusion.

With a swift flick of her wand, the window opened on its own, and the owl promptly flew into the common room. The girl could sense the bird's relief as its feathers were enveloped by the room's warmth. It perched itself on a small table filled with books and quills, fixing its gaze upon her. As the creature emitted a soft sigh, she noticed a message secured to one of its legs. She carefully took hold of the letter with one hand, while her other hand gently stroked the owl's black feathers. She attempted to open the letter, but it eluded her grasp, evading her every attempt. She let out a sigh, realizing that this was not the time for such games. Surely, it was Everett, attempting to prank her with bewitched letters. She seized the letter once more and directed her wand toward it. "Finite," she whispered, and the letter ceased its struggle against her grip.

Taking a seat beside the owl, she acknowledged that Everett had never employed a black owl to send her anything. In fact, none of her friends had ever done so. This newfound avian acquaintance was entirely unfamiliar to her. She peered at the owl while it groomed its feathers, a smirk appearing on her face. "Who has sent you, little one?" she inquired, receiving a faint howl hoot in response. She fixed her gaze on the letter, sensing a familiar aura and recalling memories from her fifth year.

A sigh escaped her lips as she reminisced about a missing presence among her friends. Sebastian Sallow, the Slytherin boy who had taught her the unforgivable curses, now resided in Azkaban. She and Ominis had made the difficult decision to turn him in—an action that had cost her a friend, someone with immense potential who had succumbed to the allure of dark magic and his own impulsive nature.

The echoes of Sebastian's screams lingered vividly in her mind.

"You both will regret this!" Sebastian's voice reverberated as he struggled against the aurors holding him in place. "I will come back, and I'll make you pay!" he bellowed, his voice strained. Ominis paid him no heed, refusing to even look in his direction. As for her, she locked eyes with Sebastian, witnessing nothing but rage and hatred burning in his brown orbs. "Especially you… I'm going to come back and make you—" Before he could finish his threat, an auror silenced him, and both he and Sebastian vanished from her sight.

She could have shed a few tears, but they never came. She knew that Sebastian's obsession with his research had put his best friend in danger. And considering she had known him for only a few months before he began to push her toward the dark arts…

No, he hadn't forced her into anything.

A gasp escaped her lips as a realization struck her. Throughout all the missions and perilous adventures, she could have said "No," avoiding all the troubles. Sebastian had never coerced her; he had merely extended invitations. It was her insatiable curiosity that had propelled her forward.

Shaking her head, she brushed aside those thoughts. The past was the past, after all. She shifted her focus to the letter and finally opened it. The paper was neat and the handwriting instantly recognizable.

"We must talk right now. Meet me in the Room of Requirement. Sebastian has escaped from Azkaban."

-Ominis

Overwhelmed by the contents of the letter, a mixture of apprehension and curiosity swelled within her. Sebastian's escape from Azkaban was a shocking revelation—one that ignited a cascade of unanswered questions in her mind. Why had he escaped? What did Ominis want to discuss? What role did she have to play in all of this? And why meeting her in the Room of Requirement instead of the Undercroft?

The flickering flames in the fireplace cast dancing shadows across the room, heightening the sense of uncertainty. She glanced at the black owl perched on the table, as if seeking guidance from the enigmatic creature. With a determined nod, she made up her mind. She couldn't ignore the call to action, the opportunity to confront the past and find closure.

Standing up, she gently patted the owl on its feathers before retrieving a cloak from the nearby hook. Wrapping it around herself, she concealed her identity and intentions as she ventured into the castle corridors. Each step carried her closer to the Room of Requirement, her mind racing with anticipation and a touch of trepidation.

The castle was eerily silent as she navigated the hidden passages, her footsteps echoing softly against the cold stone walls. Memories of past encounters with Sebastian flooded her thoughts. The dark arts, forbidden curses, and the inner turmoil he had instigated—each recollection reminded her of the price they had all paid for their choices.

Finally, she reached the seventh-floor corridor and approached the barren stretch of wall concealing the entrance to the Room of Requirement. Taking a deep breath, she focused on her intent, picturing the room she desired—the place where she would meet Ominis.

As if responding to her thoughts, the concealed door materialized before her, revealing the mysterious chamber within. Pushing it open, she stepped into the room. This time, the room manifested as a study, dimly lit with shelves lined with ancient tomes and parchment scrolls.

She gasped, her eyes widening as she took in the room before her. It bore no resemblance to her expectations. Gone was the familiar space she had envisioned, replaced by a chilling darkness that sent shivers down her spine. A sense of unease settled over her, freezing her in place. Before she could react, the door behind her slammed shut and vanished, trapping her inside.

"Ominis?" Her voice trembled with nervous anticipation, reverberating through the empty room. Her footsteps echoed, the only sound in the oppressive silence. In the center of the room stood a solitary table, devoid of any other objects. Her hand instinctively reached for her wand as Ominis' voice remained absent. She felt a surge of relief that she hadn't changed her attire before leaving the common room.

"Everett… Garreth… If this is another prank, I swear I'll unleash Rictusempra on both of you until you beg me to stop," she declared, her tone attempting to sound mature and intimidating. However, her words hung unanswered in the air, intensifying her growing unease. A few seconds passed, and a shiver raced down her spine as she sensed a presence behind her. A soft chuckle filled the room, causing her bravery to waver. She recognized that mocking, raspy voice instantly, even if it had matured over time.

"You…" Her words faltered, barely escaping her lips. "How did you…?"

"Escape?" The voice interjected, cutting her off. "I can't reveal all my secrets now, can I?" A mix of nostalgia and fear washed over her, leaving her frustrated. Finally gathering the courage to face him, she turned around, taking a few steps back, ready for any unforeseen actions. "Sebastian, where is Ominis?" she demanded, her voice laced with a threatening undertone.

Sebastian didn't answer immediately, his gaze locked onto hers. He looked almost the same, albeit taller than the last time she saw him. His expression remained neutral, his hair still disheveled. His unwavering gaze reminded her of the threats he had once made before the Aurors apprehended him.

"He is fine," he stated bluntly, his tone devoid of emotion. Her eyebrow arched in response. Sebastian chuckled, sighing as he shook his head. "I realized his family is punishment enough for him," he continued. She frowned at his words. "Allowing him to live, tortured by his family, is a more fitting fate than ending his misery with a quick death," he added in a cruel, detached tone. Relief washed over her; it seemed Sebastian was unaware that Ominis had reconciled with his family. At least he was safe.

However, she now realized that she herself was in great danger. Trapped alone with Sebastian in the Room of Requirement, which seemed unresponsive to her needs, it became evident that Sebastian's desires held greater sway over the room.

"Go on," he challenged, his arms crossed over his chest, his unwavering gaze fixed on her. There was no hint of a smile or his usual cocky smirk, only an expectant look. "I highly doubt the room listens to you anymore," he finally remarked. She shot him a defiant and enraged glare. "That's not how it works," she retorted. He shrugged, remaining motionless.

She wanted to demand what he wanted from her, but the answer seemed painfully obvious. Instead, she managed to ask, "Are you going to kill me?" Sebastian's expression shifted from neutral to one of intrigue, reminiscent of how he used to look at her during their first Herbology class, when Professor Garlick introduced her. He began to pace the room, his steps measured and deliberate, his eyes locked onto her. "No," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of anticipation.

Her relief was short-lived, for it was clear he had more to say. Sebastian retrieved his wand, deftly performing intricate wand movements as he advanced slowly toward her. "I want to torment you," he whispered, his words sending a chill down her spine. "I want to make you weep," he continued, taking another step closer. The room seemed to grow colder with each passing moment. "I want to hear you scream."

She tightened her grip on her wand, her apprehension mounting as Sebastian closed the distance between them. The atmosphere was thick with tension. "Then go ahead," she whispered defiantly, turning to face him with a challenging expression. "If you want to use the Cruciatus Curse on me, go ahead. I won't--"

"But I haven't finished," he interrupted, his voice rising above hers, halting her words in their tracks. "What would Professor Fig say if he knew what a spoiled girl you've become?" His words were laced with anger, but he quickly composed himself. Her fury intensified as he mentioned Professor Fig, as if he knew anything about her conflict with Ranrok.

"Regardless," he continued, his tone returning to its previous calmness, "as I was saying…"

"Expelliarmus!" she screamed, her wand pointed directly at him. In an instant, his grip on his wand weakened, yet it didn't flew off his hand. Sebastian's expression transformed from surprise to serene, a small smirk playing upon his lips as he nodded subtly from side to side. "Are you going to let me finish?"

"Sebastian, you have ten seconds to leave this room, leave Hogwarts, and leave me alone," she yelled at him, her fury drowning out his question. Sebastian leaned against a wall, his body relaxed as he smiled at her. "Or else?" he inquired, his old cocky smirk returning, as if he held the upper hand.

"You may not have the guts to kill me--"

"But I had the guts to turn you in, and I can do it again," she interjected. Sebastian's smirk vanished, his mind seemingly grasping the gravity of the situation. "Indeed… you did," he conceded, his voice now a low, whispered admission.

Sebastian's admission hung in the air, the tension between them palpable. Their eyes locked, each trying to gauge the other's next move. The room seemed to close in on them, amplifying their confrontation.

A wave of conflicting emotions washed over her—anger, fear, and a sliver of doubt. As much as she despised Sebastian, there was a part of her that remembered their shared past, the moments of camaraderie and laughter before everything went awry. But those memories were overshadowed by the darkness that consumed him, the cruelty he had shown. She couldn't let sentimentality cloud her judgment now.

With a resolute expression, she took a step forward, closing the distance between them. "Sebastian, you're walking down a dangerous path," she warned, her voice carrying a mix of concern and determination. "Whatever twisted sense of justice you think you're pursuing, it won't lead you to anything but more pain."

Sebastian's face contorted into a bitter smile. "Pain is what I've come to embrace," he retorted, his voice tinged with a hint of regret. "You have no idea what I've been through, what I've endured." His gaze hardened, reflecting the turmoil within him. "But you will."

A surge of defiance coursed through her veins. She couldn't let him break her spirit, not after everything she had fought for. "I won't be a pawn in your game, Sebastian," she declared firmly, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her.

Sebastian's eyes flickered with a mix of surprise and admiration. A hint of the old spark that used to exist between them seemed to resurface for a brief moment. "Very well," he conceded, a glimmer of respect in his gaze. "Let's see if you're as formidable as they say."

The room crackled with an electric intensity as they circled each other, their wands raised in anticipation. Spells flew through the air, clashing with bursts of vibrant colors, filling the room with flashes of light. Each parry and countermove showcased their skill and determination. It was a battle of wills, a clash of two former allies turned adversaries.

Despite her best efforts, she found herself gradually being pushed on the defensive. Sebastian's prowess was formidable, his every strike precise and calculated. His determination to break her was evident in each spell he cast. She fought back with every ounce of strength she possessed, refusing to yield.

As the intensity of the duel reached its crescendo, a sudden surge of power emanated from Sebastian. His eyes gleamed with a malevolent glint as he unleashed a spell she had never encountered before. A dark energy crackled around him, swirling and twisting like a vortex of shadows.

Time seemed to slow as the spell raced toward her. Instinctively, she tried to conjure a protective shield, but it was too late. The spell struck her with a force that sent her sprawling backward, her body crashing against the cold, unforgiving stone.

Pain seared through her, each nerve screaming in protest. She struggled to regain her footing, her vision swimming with a mixture of pain and determination. Gasping for breath, she glared at Sebastian, her voice barely a whisper. "You… won't… break me."

Sebastian's eyes gleamed with a mixture of triumph and regret. His wand remained pointed at her, his grip unyielding. "We shall see," he hissed, the words carrying a chilling finality.

As darkness closed in on her consciousness, she fought to stay awake, clinging to the last vestiges of her strength. She vowed to herself.

Summoning her inner resolve, she tapped into the depths of her being, drawing upon the ancient magic that flowed through her veins. A surge of raw power emanated from her, swirling around her in a dazzling display of ethereal energy. It crackled and danced with an intensity that even Sebastian couldn't help but be momentarily taken aback.

With a flick of her wrist, she unleashed a torrent of ancient magic toward Sebastian. The force of the spell sent him hurtling backward, crashing into a nearby wall. But as the dust settled, he emerged, his expression twisted with a mixture of fury and determination.

Sebastian gritted his teeth, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation. He had anticipated her hidden well of power, and he knew he needed to neutralize it if he stood a chance of overpowering her. Drawing upon his own knowledge of dark arts, he began to weave a complex counter-spell, designed to disrupt and freeze the ancient magic coursing through her.

The air crackled with an intense clash of energies as Sebastian's dark counter-spell collided with her ancient magic. Sparks flew, casting an otherworldly glow across the room. She fought with every ounce of strength she possessed, trying to maintain control, but Sebastian's spell was relentless, seeking to bind and suppress her power.

Slowly, inexorably, her ancient magic began to falter. Its vibrant radiance dimmed, flickering like a dying flame. The weight of defeat settled upon her shoulders as she realized her efforts were in vain. Sebastian had found a way to subdue her most potent weapon.

With a surge of desperation, she launched one final, desperate attack, aiming to catch Sebastian off guard. But he was prepared, sidestepping her spell with an almost effortless grace. In that moment, her energy depleted, her defenses shattered, she knew she had been outmatched.

Time seemed to stand still as Sebastian closed in on her, a predatory smile playing on his lips. "You fought well," he sneered, his voice laced with a mixture of triumph and derision. "But in the end, your ancient magic was no match for my cunning."

Her body trembled with exhaustion, her muscles refusing to obey her commands. She tried to summon a defiant retort, but her voice came out as nothing more than a strained whisper. The cold, unforgiving stone floor beneath her became her final resting place as Sebastian stood over her, his victory assured.

As darkness enveloped her, she couldn't help but wonder where it had all gone wrong. How had Sebastian, her once-trusted friend, fallen so far? And what would become of her now, trapped in his clutches?

Her breath caught in her throat as she observed him drawing nearer, the shadows deepening around them. The weight of the situation bore down upon her, suffocating her hopes. Sebastian's countenance remained impassive, a mask of indifference, until a sly grin etched itself upon his face, mirroring the twisted dance of shadows. She passed out.

A surge of consciousness flooded her senses, and her eyes fluttered open. Gone was the comforting embrace of the common room couch, and the cold stone floor of the Room of Requirement. She found herself sprawled upon a table at the heart of the room, its hard surface chilling her to the bone. Her desperate search for her wand was interrupted by a haunting whistle that sliced through the air, directing her attention to Sebastian. He stood a few paces away, toying with her wand, manipulating it with a deftness that mirrored his sinister intentions.

Rising with a mixture of defiance and fury, she longed to confront him, to unleash her pent-up anger with a well-aimed blow. Yet, an insidious force seemed to tether her to the table, an invisible chain constricting her movements. Sebastian's voice, dripping with both amusement and malice, cut through the silence, prodding her discomfort. His gaze lingered upon her attire. Reflexively, she tugged at her shirt, only to discover the metallic links of a chain encircling her waist. Attempting to grasp it, her fingertips passed through the ethereal barrier, the physical and the intangible locked in an unsettling dissonance. "What have you done to me, Sebastian?" she demanded, her voice teetering on the edge of desperation.

Sebastian silenced her with a mere gesture, his voice a hushed admonishment. "Hush now... I merely sought to ensure that you couldn't rely on your ancient magic to extricate yourself from this predicament." Her feet found the ground once more, each step carrying her farther away from him. A profound emptiness settled within her, her magical essence snuffed out like a flickering flame in a gust of wind. The scene played out before her like a cruel mockery, for even if her wand were within reach, it would be an impotent tool against his malevolence.

"Stay away from me," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and defiance. She retreated further, his hand quickly relinquishing its grip on her wand, casting it into the abyssal darkness. "Why bother stifling my magic? The Cruciatus Curse alone would have sufficed to--" Once again, his laughter severed her words, an icy reminder of her powerlessness.

Sebastian's laughter echoed through the room, resonating with a chilling malevolence. It reverberated within her, fueling a mix of frustration and anger that threatened to consume her. She watched him, her eyes burning with a fiery determination despite the shackles that held her magic captive.

"Oh, my dear," Sebastian taunted, his voice laced with wicked delight. "Do you truly think I would rely on such a mundane curse to break you? No, no, I have something much more exquisite in mind." He approached her with a calculated stride, relishing the power he held over her.

Her heart pounded within her chest, a defiant rhythm that matched her unyielding spirit. She knew she had to find another way, a way to outsmart him, to break free from his clutches. Her mind raced, searching for a solution amidst the encroaching darkness.

"You see," he continued, his voice dripping with sinister amusement, "I have spent years studying dark magic, delving into ancient secrets that most wizards fear to touch. And now, my dear, I have discovered a method to suppress even the most formidable of magical abilities."

Her eyes narrowed, a flicker of defiance igniting within her. She refused to accept defeat, even in the face of overwhelming odds. With a surge of determination, she called upon her innate resilience, drawing upon the reservoirs of her ancient magic that remained dormant within her.

As she channeled her energy, a faint glow enveloped her body, like a shimmering shield against the darkness that threatened to consume her. She extended her hand, a torrent of raw power surging forth, aimed directly at Sebastian. But to her dismay, her magic dissipated into thin air before it could reach him, as if swallowed by an unseen force.

Sebastian's laughter intensified, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "Did you truly believe it would be that easy? Did you think your ancient magic could overpower me?" His tone dripped with disdain, reveling in her futile attempt.

Defiance turned to frustration, frustration to desperation. She needed to find a weakness, a flaw in his plan. Her mind raced, piecing together fragments of knowledge, memories of ancient texts and forgotten spells. And then it hit her—a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness.

She closed her eyes, shutting out the world around her. Focusing her thoughts, she tapped into the deepest recesses of her being, drawing upon a forgotten incantation whispered by long-lost ancestors. The words formed on her lips, infused with a resolute determination.

The room trembled as her incantation reverberated through the air. A surge of energy pulsed from her, rippling outward in a wave of raw power. The chains that bound her magic quivered, their ethereal hold weakening with each passing moment.

Sebastian's eyes widened in surprise, his smug facade crumbling. He stumbled backward, momentarily disoriented by the force of her counterattack. The tables had turned, if only for a fleeting moment.

Sensing an opportunity, she seized the chance to act. Summoning every ounce of strength and willpower, she lunged forward, aiming to reclaim her wand and regain control over her destiny. But just as her fingertips grazed the hilt, a surge of dark energy emanated from Sebastian.

A wicked smile curled upon his lips as he pointed his wand at her, uttered a single word—a word that held unimaginable power.

"Imperio."

The air grew heavy with malevolence, and an invisible force seized hold of her, forcing her body to freeze in place. Her eyes suddenly now glowing when the spell hit her body, feeling a weird peace embracing her body.

Sebastian let out a frustrated sigh. "Surely, you have many tricks up your sleeve," he said, stopping right behind her. His head was now placed on top of her shoulder, his breathing touching her ear as he spoke. "But I also know a few old tricks."

Meanwhile, in her mind, she couldn't understand how, even under the Imperius curse, she was able to notice everything around her. However, she couldn't control her body anymore, only the warm and threatening breath of Sebastian on her ear. The sensation was too good, yet it felt so wrong. The spell gave her a peaceful sensation, while her conscience made her fear her surroundings. Her body wasn't hers anymore, but at least she still had her mind.

"Look at me," he demanded in a raspy voice. She slowly turned around to see him, her eyes shining with the curse upon herself. Sebastian smiled, but this was different from any other smile he had made before. It was a victorious smile, a dominant one.

"Sebastian," she managed to whisper. He placed a hand on her cheek, slowly rubbing his thumb on her face. She wanted to move away, but she couldn't. "What are you going to do to me?" His expression changed when she asked that question. She couldn't sense his plans now.

"Get back to the table," he demanded, but she fought the spell. Her body insisted on moving. "No," she said, giving the answer she should have given him three years ago on their first adventure. But suddenly, she was caught by Sebastian's hand around her throat, squeezing it just a little. "Get back to the table," he repeated slowly to her. Her body moved towards the table, and she sat on top of it.

She gasped for air as Sebastian let go of her throat, his hand now gently rubbing the spot where he had just held her. "You don't have a choice in this," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

She shook her head, trying to clear the fog from her mind. "I'll never be yours," she spat out, her eyes flashing with defiance.

Sebastian's grip tightened on her arm. "You'll learn to obey me," he said, his eyes glinting with a cruel light. "Or you'll suffer the consequences."

She gritted her teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her afraid. "I'll never obey you," she said, her voice trembling with anger.

Sebastian chuckled darkly. "We'll see about that," he said. "For now, I have other plans for you."

He pushed her down onto the table, her body splayed out before him. She tried to resist, but the imperius curse was too strong. She was powerless to stop him as he began to trace his fingers over her body, starting on her chest and then move slowly down her belly. A cruel smile appeared on his lips.

She closed her eyes, trying to block out the sensations, but it was no use. She was trapped, a prisoner in her own body, forced to endure Sebastian's unwanted advances.

He had her trapped, pinned against the table, his arms forming a barricade on either side of her trembling body. She fought to maintain her composure, her legs pressed tightly together, attempting to create a barrier against his advances. But his persistence was unyielding.

Leaning in, he traced a path with his lips, trailing delicate kisses along the warm skin of her neck to her chin. Each touch sent ripples of sensation through her, causing her to writhe involuntarily. His arrogant chuckle reverberated against her now sensitized flesh, stoking the fire of desire within her.

Sebastian, attuned to her body's reactions, swiftly discerned her feeble attempt at resistance. With a knowing smirk, he remedied the situation without the need for his hands. "Spread your legs," he commanded, his voice a velvet rasp against her heck, close to her ear. In response, her traitorous body obeyed, granting him access to the intimate space between her thighs. The room filled with the sounds of their mingled breaths and her whispered whimpers.

"Sebastian…" she pleaded once more, her voice a plea tinged with a mixture of desperation and hope. Her words hung in the air as his fingers traced a tantalizing path along her waist, descending down her leg, making her gasp at his touch. The fabric of her skirt, a cruel accomplice to her misfortune, offered little resistance as his finger tips journeyed toward her bare skin. Each inch of progress elicited a shudder and a sigh from her quivering form.

A feigned concern danced in his eyes as he feigned ignorance to her escalating arousal. "What's the matter?" he inquired, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "Is it too overwhelming for you already?" he whispered into her ear, his breath teasing against her delicate lobe. Her breaths grew louder, more ragged. He invoked her name, a calculated maneuver to reclaim her attention. "I asked you a question," he murmured, his thumb grazing her exposed skin with a painfully slow deliberation. She instinctively turned her face away, seeking to evade his proximity, while simultaneously responding to his inquiry with a voice laced with a unique blend of longing and protest. It was a tone that only fueled Sebastian's sadistic pleasure, coaxing a wicked smile to form on his lips.

"I cannot… please," she implored, her voice barely a whisper, laden with a mixture of defiance and desperation. However, Sebastian's unrestrained hand seized her chin, forcing her back into his grasp. "This is my first--," she murmured, her voice tinged with resignation.

His fingers traced up her skin, tantalizingly slow, and then he pulled up the fabric of her skirt. Her heart raced as he reached her thighs. She was so lost in his touch that she didn't even notice him pulling out his wand. His biting and licking on her neck left red marks and bruises, and she couldn't resist the pleasure it brought her.

With a swift motion, the tip of the wand pointed towards her skirt and a ripping sound filled the room, accompanied by a gasp from her as she felt her clothing tearing apart on its own. "Seems your attire won't be much of a defense this time," whispered Sebastian with a sly grin.

He scrutinized her body, his mind contemplating his next move, until his gaze fixated on her eyes. "Do you want to hear something intriguing about the Imperius Curse?" he remarked, his hand gripping her thigh tightly, causing her to flinch from the sudden strength of his grip. "I can make you say whatever I want..." Her cheeks flushed with fear, and a look of apprehension washed over her face. "Wait, Sebastian!" she exclaimed, attempting to raise her voice, knowing he was about to make her speak against her will, but he silenced her by placing his hand over her mouth. "Shhh… there," she whimpered, attempting to pry his hand away from her mouth. "Calm down," he whispered, his tone so intimate and tranquil that it brought tears to her eyes. "I simply want you to look at me and beg for my forgiveness," he demanded, and she looked bewildered. "You know what I'm referring to." He removed his hand from her mouth and then placed it on her cheek.

His other hand began to slip beneath her blouse, but she promptly halted him with her voice. "I'm sorry…" she whispered, causing him to redirect his gaze back to her eyes while his fingers lingered on the warm skin of her stomach. "I'm listening," he stated, still desiring a more sincere apology. "I'm sorry for… betraying you," she whispered, avoiding his gaze. "For what? I didn't hear you," he taunted, resuming his movements. "I'm sorry, Sebastian! I shouldn't have betrayed you!" she shouted, and he abruptly ceased, allowing her to exhale and feel a sense of relief as he withdrew from her. "Good girl," he whispered.

"But you see," he continued, his tone almost conversational, "I don't just want you to say sorry. I want you to mean it. And to show me just how sorry you are."

Her heart rate quickened as she realized the true nature of his intentions. She tried to push him away, to fight back against his advances, but he was too strong. His hand covered her mouth once more, muffling her protests as he leaned in even closer.

"Let me show you what it really means to be sorry," he whispered, his free hand sliding up her blouse and tracing the curves of her body.

She whimpered, feeling trapped and helpless in his grip. But despite her fear and confusion, a small part of her couldn't help but feel a growing sense of excitement at his words. She knew it was wrong, that she shouldn't be enjoying this, but she couldn't help the way her body was responding to his touch.

And as he continued to dominate her, to make her feel things she had never felt before, she knew that she was his. Completely and utterly his, and that there was nothing she could do to resist him.

With a sly grin, Sebastian waved his wand, causing her blouse to rip apart, exposing her bare chest. He took a moment to appreciate the sight before him, relishing in her vulnerability. "Seems you made a poor choice today by not wearing a bra," he murmured in a deep, seductive voice. She didn't resist this time, which intrigued him. "Oh, how I adore it when you cease to run away," he taunted, but she paid no attention, trying to ignore is glare. He rolled his eyes, growing impatient. "Very well, if you insist on playing hard to get…"

He forced her gaze to meet his, their eyes locking intensely. "I would be delighted to hear you beg me to fuck you," he stated, and the curse took hold of her voice, knowing exactly what he desired.

"No…" she began, only to speak again, her voice now laced with desperation, "Please, Sebastian--" Her words were cut short as his fingers traced a path back down her thighs, lingering at the edge of her panties. "Go on, I'm all ears," he prompted, a wicked gleam in his eyes. She attempted to speak, the words barely a whisper, "Do it…" she pleaded, but he feigned ignorance, making her intentions clearer. Slowly, his hands eased her panties down her legs, exposing her most intimate self. "Fuck me…" she uttered, her voice filled with a mix of desire and defiance. "What was that?" he teased, his fingers now tracing along her inner thigh. "Fuck me!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the room. His smile grew wider, relishing in the power he held over her. "How do you want me to fuck you?" he inquired, his voice dripping with anticipation.

"I don't care," she retorted swiftly, her voice filled with urgency as the curse made her be honest. "Just get it over with." He chuckled, finding amusement in her impatience, and his fingers delved into the wetness between her legs, eliciting a sharp intake of breath as she bit her lip to stifle a moan. "I've barely touched you, and you're already a mess," he teased, taking pleasure in her vulnerable state. She glared at him with a mix of desperation and anger, but he merely shook his head with a smile. Using two fingers, he gently parted the lips of her throbbing sex, then began to caress her clit in slow, tantalizing circles, causing her legs to involuntarily close in response.

"Hey, I never gave you permission to close your legs," he commanded, spreading her trembling limbs wide open once again as her pleas and whimpers escaped from her trembling lips. "Stop fighting it..." She ceased her struggling when one of his fingers entered slowly inside her warm insides.

Moans of pleasure escaped her lips in tandem with each thrust of his fingers, a seductive rhythm that drove her wild. His gaze fixated on every nuance of her face, relishing in the symphony of expressions that played upon her features. The sound of his ragged breath tickled her neck, sending shivers down her spine. Each penetration of his fingers elicited a delightful squirm from her, her body surrendering to his skilled touch. Feeling how his finger went in and then out with a painful slow motion, along with the waves of pleasure each time his thumb pressed her clit.

As she attempted to utter words once more, he swiftly silenced her with a cocky smile, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss, surprising her... but she just closed her eyes, the softness of his lips felt even better than the imperious curse. The warmth of their mouths melded together, and through the exchange of breath, soft whimpers escaped, blending with the fervent exchange. While his thumb continued its slow dance upon her sensitive clit, his finger explored the depths of her being with an achingly slow tempo, a tempting tease that heightened her desire. She could feel the mischievous curve of his lips against hers, his teeth gently biting at her lower lip, making her open her open her mouth, letting his tongue meet with hers, all while her head rested upon the cool surface of the table, her tousled hair framing her face in disarray. Aware of her unrestrained arms, a surge of hope surged within her, and she attempted to push him away, but the allure of the curse whispered in her ear, questioning her resistance. The pleasure he bestowed upon her was too intoxicating to deny.

A smirk danced upon his lips as he acknowledged her futile struggle. He paused the kiss, leaning back as a thin thread of saliva was the only thing that connect their mouths "Oh, how could I forget about that?" he remarked, observing her futile attempt to repel him. With a swift motion, he seized her wrists with the hand that had been orchestrating her pleasure, leaving her with a hollow ache as his finger abruptly withdrew. Resistance proved futile as he retrieved his wand, its tip gliding sensually along her leg, grazing her skin with tantalizing precision. From her leg to her waist, the wand traced a path of anticipation, then moved with a delicate shift to her belly, until finally, it pointed directly at her wrists. The words poised to escape his lips were familiar to her, their implications heavy with restraint. His fingers brushed against her wrists, now imbued with the wetness of her arousal, as he whispered, "Incarcerous." In an instant, a rope materialized, skillfully binding her wrists together. He guided her bound wrists to rest behind his head, drawing him closer to her, heightening the intimacy of their connection.

He reclined against the velvety expanse of her collarbone, his lips tracing a trail of fervent kisses along the slopes of her breasts. Her hands clenched the fabric of his shirt collar, her grip desperate yet filled with a longing that mirrored his own. A flicker of mischief danced in his eyes as he dipped his hand between her trembling thighs, fingers grazing the delicate flesh.

With a deliberate slowness, he penetrated her depths with two fingers, luxuriating in the sensation of her slick warmth enveloping him. Each movement was a carefully choreographed symphony of pleasure, orchestrated by the rising cadence of her ragged breaths. He curled his fingers inside her, angling them to elicit a gasp of pleasure, while his thumb caressed her swollen nub with a tantalizing rhythm.

The resounding symphony of her moans reverberated through the room, a testament to the electric current that pulsed between them. He relished the raw power he held over her, each stroke of his fingers evoking a crescendo of desire. Just as her climax drew near, he abruptly ceased his ministrations, savoring the exquisite frustration etched across her face.

A few seconds of maddening stillness hung in the air, teasing the edge of her yearning. And then, like a maestro returning to his opus, he resumed his movements, expertly navigating the contours of her pleasure. With each calculated pause, he reveled in the plea that escaped her lips, an intoxicating melody of need and surrender.

"Why..." she breathed, her voice laced with a mixture of confusion and desire. "Why are you doing this?" Sebastian halted his kisses, his gaze locking with hers, their lips a hair's breadth apart. A mischievous smile played upon his mouth as his warm breath mingled with hers.

"Do you mean why I deny you release before the pinnacle of pleasure, or why we find ourselves entangled in this intricate dance?" His voice was a seductive murmur, an invitation to delve deeper into the realms of their shared desire.

"I... I thought you said you wanted to torment me... to hear me scream," she murmured with innocence, prompting a chuckle from him. "Oh, I do want to torment you," he replied, his fingers delving deeper into her, moving with deliberate grace. "So... so intensely." Her back arched, and a sensual moan escaped her lips, tempting him to take her right then and there. "We're only just beginning," he paused for a few seconds, sensing her imminent climax. "I could prolong your pleasure each time you approach the edge..." His voice barely reached her ears amidst her pleas and whimpers. "But since I'm a gentleman... I'll allow you to choose your torment." Withdrawing his fingers, he moved her wrists away from his neck. Stepping back, she watched him in confusion, only causing her expression quickly transform from uncertain to a mixture of surprise and flustered anticipation as he removed his shirt. Now she beheld the body of the one about to consume her, covered with battle scars and freckles. Sweat already glistened on his skin, causing her to instinctively close her legs once more. She felt too vulnerable, too insignificant, too easily manipulated.

Drawing near, he placed his hand gently on her cheek. His expression evoked a disconcerting sense of wrongness, his desires felt tainted, and she never imagined him like this, not even once... and she was certain he hadn't either. Yet, as his thumb tenderly brushed her cheek with care and attentiveness, she couldn't help but become lost in that mix of ambition and determination reflected in his eyes. His caring countenance abruptly turned cold, reminding her of the reality that she was still ensnared by the imperious curse, still yielding to his will, still trapped with a murderer.

"Turn around and lay yourself on the table," he commanded, and this time her body yielded without resistance, as if under the sway of a new master. "Good girl," his words sent shivers coursing through her entire being. "Since someone is so eager to discover how I shall torment them..." He trailed his hand along the skin of her back, gradually descending. "Let's embark on the enjoyment right away." His hands came to a halt on her buttocks. Swiftly, she discerned what would happen next, snapping out of her trance. She looked over her shoulder, only to see him raising his hand. "S-Sebastian! Wait! Please!" The resounding slap filled the air, accompanied by a sharp gasp, reddening her cheek. "Fuck... you have no idea how much I longed to do this since the day they took me to Azkaban," he whispered, before another slap abruptly cut her off.

The exquisite pain electrified her senses, each contact of his hand against her skin sending tremors through her legs. "Not so powerful now, are you?" he whispered, surprising her with another slap. "Without your precious ancient magic... I wonder where that witch everyone idolizes has gone." His name escaped her lips as the next slap landed on her other cheek. "For here I stand, staring at her... so small... so weak." She bit her lip, suppressing another moan. "So exquisitely obedient," he finally remarked, delivering another slap that resounded in the room, yet she managed to remain silent. He raised an eyebrow, observing her, then smiled. "Ah, so you still put up a fight," he said, striking her once more, but even as her legs trembled, she refused to make a sound. "Even if I can't fight..." She whispered, turning her gaze to him. "I won't let you have me so easily, Sebastian

"Very well," he responded calmly. Then, his gaze shifted to her tightly closed legs, and a slow chuckle escaped him. "I'm starting to think you enjoy having me command you to open your legs." Her cheeks flushed as the imperious curse obeyed Sebastian's desire. Merlin's beard, she couldn't fathom why she felt even more nervous now. Despite already being penetrated and slapped, this position, presenting her red and sore cheeks to him, felt unbearably intimate. She sensed him lean closer between her spread legs once again, and instinctively, her gaze met his. However, he seized her hair and forced her face away, towards the wall in front of her, pressing her head against the wooden table. His other hand gradually moved from her legs to her inner thigh, discovering her profound wetness, with her juices starting to trickle down her trembling limbs. "Oh, darling... Are you that desperate for me to claim your virginity?" Her gasp at his words elicited a lip-biting response from him. Now in such close proximity to her body, she startled slightly as she felt something hard pressing against her throbbing center. Her heartbeat quickened as the sound of something unzipping reached her ears.

"Do you recall when I granted you the choice of your torment?" His voice resonated with a deep, urgent rasp. It was clear that a mere nod wouldn't satisfy him; he needed to hear her answer. And so, she nodded, seeking that intoxicating sense of pain, and it was delivered. His palm collided with her already tender skin, and this time, she didn't suppress her moan. "Oh, my..." Genuine surprise laced his tone. "Seems someone has embraced her rightful place... What prompted such a swift change of heart?"

She attributed it to the imperious curse—or at least, that's what she tried to convince herself. Deep down, both she and he knew that the curse had become superfluous; her body and mind had willingly surrendered to him. But she fought, not to liberate herself from this predicament, but rather because the sensation of him exerting control over her, dictating her every action, felt exquisitely intense. "Regardless," he continued, his victory evident in his smile. "As I was saying... I'll grant you the choice. Shall I continue denying your orgasms until you climax on my cock?—" He paused, his hands exploring her form, squeezing her breasts, teasing her nipples. "Or are you eager to discover how many times I can make you come?" He whispered into her ear. Her breaths echoed throughout the room as he awaited her response, her embarrassment palpable. But the imperious curse quelled her hesitation. "Well? I'm waiting... Or would you like to experience both scenarios?" Sebastian chuckled as the curse compelled her to vocalize her inner thoughts. "I... desire to witness how many times you can make me come... I need you to fuck me, Sebastian."

Magic truly was a wondrous thing. Her candid words slipped effortlessly from her lips, despite her attempt to conceal her flushed embarrassment. He required no further encouragement. She gasped when, this time, three of his fingers slowly entered her, the warmth of her depths meeting his touch once more, offering a mixture of painful relief and utter satisfaction. She bit her lip as he skillfully guided his fingers in and out of her wetness. She yearned to gaze into his eyes, but he forced her to avert her gaze, pressing her head against the table. Her moans intensified as his movements quickened and delved deeper. "Merlin... If only I could listen to those sounds every day..." He whispered, intoxicated by the symphony of her pleasure.

She surrendered herself completely, her eyes shut tight, her lips brushing against the table's surface. Sebastian had found the perfect rhythm, his fingers hitting that sweet spot deep inside her. A fervent desire coursed through her, urging her to break free from the confines of the rope binding her wrists. She longed to feel his touch, to grasp him, to witness the emotions playing across his face at this very moment.

"Please... Sebastian," she pleaded, her words catching his attention. But he didn't cease his thrusts; instead, he intensified his movements, pushing her further towards the edge. "Sebastian..." she called again, yet he delivered another forceful thrust, denying her plea. His voice carried a frigid edge, laced with a hint of mercy. She swallowed, gathering her courage, before she could beg him to grant her a glimpse of his expression. 

But as she spoke, a searing heat began to radiate from the depths of her womb, spreading downward between her legs. She grew closer to the peak of pleasure, her walls constricting around Sebastian's fingers. Her moans betrayed her, inflating Sebastian's ego. He turned her face to meet his gaze, delicately brushing away strands of hair that clung to her damp skin. He sought to capture every nuance of her expression in this pivotal moment. He didn't need to ask if she was nearing her climax; he could feel it, and she herself felt an unusual sensation, a mix of bliss and urgency that compelled her to act.

In the next few seconds, her moans filled the room, a symphony of ecstasy mingled with her desperate pleas. "I... I can't," she gasped, her voice fraught with a strange unease. "Sebastian, something feels off... wait, please," she implored, her words teetering on the edge of an admission she could no longer hold back. "I think I need to...," she trailed off, interrupted by Sebastian's hand placed firmly over her mouth, a sly smirk adorning his face. "Now, now... just let go," he coaxed, his voice coaxing her body to surrender completely. "Come for me... I want to hear you, every raw, uninhibited sound," he whispered, his encouragement fueling her release.

Her body quivered uncontrollably as waves of pleasure washed over her, flooding her senses. Her whimpering cries subsided, giving way to a deep, soulful release that consumed her entirely. She felt the warmth spreading, drenching her thighs and legs. Sebastian merely chuckled, withdrawing his fingers, while she struggled to steady her breath, her gaze averted from his penetrating gaze. 

"I must admit... I anticipated you would derive pleasure from this encounter, but I never expected such a fervent response," he remarked, a smug smile gracing his lips as she turned her attention away, unable to meet his gaze.

Just as she felt the rekindling of energy coursing through her body, Sebastian seized her by the waist and forcefully pulled her closer to him. This was far from over, and deep down, she knew it. After all, she had implored him to continue making her succumb to waves of pleasure, and he wasn't one to trifle with such requests. The next few minutes unfolded like a tantalizing dance between ecstasy and torment. He skillfully teased her most sensitive regions, coaxing one orgasm after another, each release more exquisite than the last.

While her senses soared on the wings of pleasure, Sebastian himself held back, grappling with the torment of his throbbing desire. He yearned to savor her completely, to claim her in a way that transcended the realms of mere physicality. As she lay there, breathless and drenched in perspiration, he pondered the threshold of their shared passion.

"I can't take it any longer!," she pleaded with Sebastian, her voice heavy with a mixture of exhaustion and longing. Yet, her words fell upon deaf ears as he seized her once again, defying her pleas, and positioned her atop the table, her back pressed against the unyielding wood.

At this point, even her ancient magic stirred, a feeble attempt to aid its wielder, but the ethereal chain encircling her waist rendered her powerless, its cold touch a constant reminder of her captivity. "I regret to hear your distress," Sebastian retorted, his eyes gleaming with a blend of mischief and revenge. With a flick of his wand, he revealed his intentions. "But my retribution is far from complete, and you shall endure it," he declared, his gaze fixed upon her womb. He pressed the tip of his wand against her, uttering an incantation too faint for her ears to discern.

Suddenly, an electrifying surge of warmth coursed through her, leaving her trembling and apprehensive. Fear etched across her face as she scrutinized Sebastian's wand. "What have you done to me?" she demanded, her voice trembling with a mixture of anxiety and anger. "You will see," he responded swiftly, forcibly turning her back around to face the table's surface once more.

With a tantalizing display of dominance, Sebastian allowed his pants to slide down his legs, revealing his hardened desire. In a wicked twist of fate, her legs parted eagerly, as if driven by an unseen force, drawing a chuckle from his lips. She remained blind to his actions, her senses heightened with anticipation, until she felt an unfamiliar presence at the apex of her thighs. It was neither his fingers nor his tongue that greeted her, but a pulsating intensity that left her breathless.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through her veins as Sebastian plunged his cock deep inside her, igniting a symphony of pleasure and pain that erupted in a fervent cry of his name. He held her head firmly against the table, keeping her at his mercy, while tears cascaded down her cheeks. His feigned concern was laced with sadistic amusement as he inquired, "Is it too much for you?" Yet, despite the overwhelming sensation, she managed to summon a whispered confession, "It's too big." Sebastian's smirk deepened, savoring the power he held over her vulnerability.

Part of him yearned to prolong the exquisite torment, to revel in her quivering need, but the hunger for fulfillment drove him forward. With deliberate, agonizing slowness, he began to move, each thrust a calculated symphony of pleasure and discomfort. His groans mingled with her intoxicating moans, their union a testament to the intoxicating blend of pain and pleasure. The tightness of her walls constricted around him, intensifying his own primal urges, urging him to push deeper, to claim her completely.

The room became a sanctuary of their forbidden desires, as Sebastian reveled in the sweetest symphony he had ever heard—her melodic moans. Triumph surged through his veins, knowing he was the first to possess her, and he intended to be the last. His teeth sank into his lower lip, suppressing the primal urges that threatened to consume him entirely. Each thrust of his hips became a declaration of dominance.

Every thrust sent delicious shivers coursing through her body, causing her to writhe with pleasure. In a moment of astonishment, she realized her wrists were no longer bound. Sebastian hastily broke the spell of the rope, urgently spinning her around until her back once again met the table. Her legs found their place on his shoulders as he continued his relentless penetration. Leaning in, he captured her lips with a hunger that mirrored their shared desire, and she surrendered to the intoxication of their kiss, her arms finding solace around his neck.

An exquisite ache reverberated through her as the tip of his cock grazed a tender spot, and in response, she raked her nails along his back, a feeble attempt to temper the explosive pleasure that consumed her. One of his hands tenderly caressed her face before descending to her breasts. Despite the stark contrast in their size and strength, the intimacy they shared felt nothing short of heavenly.

Amidst Sebastian's groans resonating in her ears, an unintended confession slipped from her lips. "I love you." The sudden halt in his movements sparked an uneasy sensation within her, as if she had crossed a forbidden boundary. "I... I'm sorry," she stammered, her body silently pleading for him to resume their passionate connection. "Say it again," Sebastian whispered, resuming his thrusts with renewed fervor, eliciting moans of pleasure from her lips. "Go on," he urged, his whispers dripping with temptation. "I love you," she repeated, her breathing growing labored as waves of pleasure washed over her. To her surprise, Sebastian savored her declaration, relishing in the raw vulnerability she displayed. "Tell me more," he entreated, his warm breath caressing her ear. "Please... let me hear you." His tone held a mixture of longing and sadness. Biting her lip, she obliged, her voice trembling, "I missed you... so much."

In that moment, he seemed to possess an intimate understanding of her desires, effortlessly guiding her deeper into the indescribable realm of lust that coursed through her veins. "I needed you so bad," Sebastian confessed, prompting her to hold him even tighter, desperate to bridge the distance between them. "I know," she whispered in response, their words forging an unbreakable bond. Suddenly, the scorching heat intensified, signaling her impending release, and Sebastian was keenly aware of it. With each thrust, he pushed himself deeper, but her hand on his chest implored him to ease his pace.

"Sebastian... we must stop," she uttered, her voice laced with a mixture of urgency and yearning. He sighed, his gaze fixed on her, exhaustion and hurt etched upon his features. "Why?" he queried, the tone betraying a sense of weariness. "Because... you," she began, her words interrupted by a moan as she struggled to compose herself. "I'll be pregnant..." Her words, tinged with embarrassment, ignited a chuckle from Sebastian, his favorite sound to hear. "What spell did you think I casted on your womb?" he inquired, expecting her to comprehend the implications. And comprehend she did, her cheeks flushing crimson as she nodded in acknowledgment. "You're too adorable, you know?" he whispered, his voice betraying traces of fatigue. "Now, just let go," he nibbled on her ear. "I yearn to fill you with my seed."

Unable to hold back any longer, she succumbed to the tantalizing torture that had built within her, a moan escaping her lips. It wasn't solely the sensation of her release that overtook her, but also the feeling of Sebastian's seeds surging inside her, flooding her with an overwhelming mixture of pleasure and satisfaction. Her entire body trembled as the hot, sticky essence filled her depths, her voice intertwining with his name in a symphony of bliss. In the throes of their mutual climax, Sebastian groaned, succumbing to the torments of his own pleasure.

As their bodies slowly recovered from their ecstatic union, they remained locked in an intimate embrace, their breathing gradually returning to a calm rhythm. The world around them faded into the background, their connection an oasis of shared vulnerability and desire. With whispered words of tenderness and the lingering warmth of their union, they reveled in the aftermath of their passion. As the waves of pleasure subsided, fatigue swept over her like a gentle lullaby. With a contented sigh, she nestled into Sebastian's arms, her eyelids growing heavy as sleep beckoned her. He held her close, his touch tender and protective, his fingers gently caressing her skin. The exhaustion from their intense encounter took its toll, and soon she succumbed to the sweet embrace of slumber.

Hours passed in blissful silence, their intertwined forms finding solace in the peaceful stillness of the night. Sebastian watched over her, his gaze filled with adoration and a touch of concern. He brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face, his fingers tracing the delicate contours of her features, cherishing the serenity that now enveloped her.

As the first rays of dawn peeked through the window, gentle warmth danced upon her face, coaxing her back to consciousness. She slowly blinked her eyes open, her senses gradually awakening to the familiar surroundings. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, she found herself lying on the couch in the Gryffindor common room, just as she had before the arrival of the black owl.

A soft smile curved her lips as memories of the previous night flooded her mind. She turned her head to find Sebastian sitting nearby, his eyes fixed on her with a mix of affection and relief. He had remained faithfully by her side, watching over her as she slumbered, ensuring her safety and comfort.

"Good morning," he whispered, his voice a gentle caress in the tranquil space. "How do you feel?"

Her response came as a languid stretch, her body still tingling from their passionate encounter. "Sore, but in the best possible way," she replied, her voice laced with a hint of confusion. "How did you--" She wanted to know how he managed to took her back into the Gryffindor common room, but she quickly noticed the current situation.

Sebastian chuckled, the sound carrying a mix of tenderness and amusement. "I'm glad to hear that. I was worried I may have been a bit too... intense." Then he saw how the morning was touching the common room. "Don't worry, I will leave soon"

She sat up, her eyes meeting his, filled with genuine worry... Yet she knew he hand all under control "You were perfect, Sebastian. More than I could have ever imagined." It was difficult for her to speak the truth after being soo long under he imperious curse.

A warm glow suffused his features, and he reached out to gently brush his fingers against her cheek. "You mean the world to me, you know that, right?" Her expression changed to a confused one.

"But I though you hated me" She whispered as her hand touched his. He chuckled and sighted. "I did... but then I started to understand I crossed a line... after I taught you crucio, after I manipulated you and Ominis to look the cure for Anne... after I killed my uncle" Her heart swelled with affection, a sense of belonging washing over her. "Everyone misses you... Even Ominis" she whispered, her voice brimming with emotion.

Sebastian leaned in, capturing her lips in a soft, lingering kiss, a testament to the connection they had forged. As they pulled apart, he rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling.

"Rest now," he murmured. "We have a lifetime of adventures ahead of us."

With a contented sigh, she nestled back into his embrace, her head resting against his chest. As she closed her eyes, she knew she was safe and loved, and in Sebastian's arms, she had found her sanctuary. Together, they drifted into a peaceful slumber, ready to face whatever the future held, united in their love and the magic they shared.

[loveneversleepss]

Royalty Part 2

Pairing: Prince Felix x female reader, switched POVs, set after 2 years.

Warnings: smut duh with a plot ofc, unprotected sex(wrap before you tap), nicknames, cursing, death? Mental health issues, heartbreak lol, violence ig.

A/n: heheh ik you’ve waited for this so enjoy! Ps Daniel deserves sm better😭

W.C: 7000 words

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Felix?” My attention was brought back by Chan, he snapped his fingers which made me jump. “Are you okay?” Am I okay? I’ve been asking myself that for a long time.

I nodded my head and gave a reassurance smile, which was completely fake. He was talking to me about some duties I needed to attend to. I had to step up, as the widowed-crown prince, who was a better fit than a 7-year-old. I had to get over everything so fast, my bride who died on our wedding day, I was forced to forget about it. But I couldn’t, I simply could not. Because I would only love her and only her. “Are you even paying attention?” I dropped my hand against the desk which was holding up my head. “We need to find you another bride.” I became outraged, “what are you talking about?” He sighs and sits in front of me, “it’s been two years. We need a crown princess.” I stood up from my chair, “how could you ask something like this?”

“You are the most wanted husband in the land, you have ladies lining up for you.” This brings me back to before, when I was invited to the imperial palace for the first time, and saw her. “I don’t want another lady.” He groaned in annoyance which caused me to turn angrily, he spoke before thinking, “why can’t you just forget her?” I charged towards him, lifting my fist to him and gripping his shirt, but I caught myself. I let him go and sighed, “why do you think? She was murdered on our wedding day, I couldn’t save her. To this day I don’t know who murdered her.”

Her father refused to investigate her death, her assassin. He believed it wouldn’t let her soul rest, which he ordered no one to look into it or they would be killed. I looked at the jade ring on my finger, our wedding rings, I buried the other one with her. “I just want her back.” We were interrupted by a guard stepping inside, “his majesty would like a word alone.” I motioned for Chan to leave and the King stepped inside. “Your majesty,” I bowed and he bowed back, “Felix.” I sat down, but he insisted on not sitting with me. “It’s time we find you a bride.” I slumped defeated, unbelievable. The king had recently remarried after y/ns mother couldn’t handle the pain of her death. She killed herself. He chose to remarry only a month ago.

“It’s just hard, after everything.” He reached for my hand but I reluctantly moved. “I understand, but I did it. Which means you can too.” I held my breath as he was turning to leave, “just think about it.” Then he slithered away. I sat there for a while, thinking about everything that happened. I decided it was time I should go take a bath. I walked into my room and told my servants I wanted a bath. They left to prepare and would alert me when it was ready. Chan came running inside. “You won’t believe what I just heard.” I crossed my arms and stared, awaiting the information.

“I overheard a conversation the king had with his new bride.” He gets up and walks over to the station full of sweets and drinks. “She had a twin sister. She lived in the village, poor as mice. She was taken care of by undercover palace guards.” I frown my forehead and lean against the table in my room. It was y/ns, her room. I watched him pour a cup of tea for me, he set it down on the table in front of me, “I don’t drink tea.. Have you investigated this?” He sighs heavily, “there’s no record of her. Anywhere.” I stepped back, stunned, “how could there be no information on her?” He shrugged his shoulders, and sat down on the chair. “Maybe he didn’t want anyone to find out about her.” But why?

“I want you to investigate y/n’s past.” He raises an eyebrow, “I will be killed.” I shut my eyes and looked at him with annoyance, “not her death. Her birth. There must be a reason why her sister was sent away.” He nodded his head and bowed then disappeared. I was called away.

~~~

“It’s crazy.” I sat in disbelief on my bed, our bed. Chan ran into the room with grief news. “But it’s true. She was born from a different mother and that’s where the sister is.” I shook my head and my hands wiped my face, Chan’s eyebrows carefully moved to his emotions “but then why would the queen kill herself after?” He smacked his lips, “she raised y/n as her own. She couldn’t have children, or so she thought until she gave birth to Daniel. But the king bedded another woman secretly to have an heir.” I laid back into my bed and looked at the ceiling. “He sent away her sister to the mother to keep the affair quiet,” I concluded. Chan patted my chest and laid down with me. It was silent for a few moments until I sat up suddenly. “We have to find her.”

He looked at me like I was crazy. “There’s no way we could pull that off.” I licked my lips and chewed on the inside of my cheek. There is a way. “The king wants me to find a bride, I could say I’m searching for one.” But of course where would I even take her? I can’t take her here. It would have to be back at my home, my mansion. “Send word to my mother that I will be returning for a few days.” Chan exclaimed softly as his bright smile beamed and he patted my back, “we’re finally going home.”

~~~

“Welcome back, Felix.” My mother held out her arms to me which I felt obligated to fall into. She rubbed my back softly and hummed, “it’s so good to see you.” I broke away and she cupped my cheeks, “how are you, lix?” I sighed and hung my head low, “I wish I could say better.” She paused and tried to lead me inside. “I have to do an errand before I enter, would you mind having the servants prepare my room?” It was an excuse not to talk about things, because I knew she would ask. She smiled and sent me off with a wave. I walked the streets alone, without Chan. I always loved walking down the market, watching couples and families enjoy themselves. I always wanted to do this with y/n.

I get a harsh shove into my right shoulder, a man apologizes without looking back. I rubbed my shoulder when I noticed a fabric dragging on the ground, from a woman covering her face. My fingertips brushed against it as it passed by me. It’s royal silk, a beautiful pink. How would a commoner have this? I watched the figure walk away silently, ducking her head down so as not to be noticed. I get curious and begin to follow behind her.

I easily got stopped and bumped into the crowd. I see her turn into a side street. Which I walked into at a distance. I’m standing in the middle, where she’s nowhere to be found. I turn to leave, and there she is. Standing in front of me with a dagger up to my face. “Y/n?” Her eyes squint and she looks me up and down, scanning me. “Who are you and why are you following me?”

~~~

He doesn’t speak for a few moments. He’s speechless as his mouth is gaping a little open. “Well?” I stick the dagger closer to his neck. He clears his throat, “you look like someone I knew.” I scoffed and tilted my head, “y/n?” His eyes widen, I hear a shuffle behind me but I keep my eyes on him. He moves swiftly and fast, he grabs the dagger from his throat and swings it behind me. A man groans from behind me and he pulls me behind him. “We have to get out of here,” I cling onto his shoulder, “now.” I have no time to react as we start running in the opposite direction. He leads back into the crowd of the market.

He grabs my headpiece and wraps it around his shirt. “It’ll be better if we hide in plain sight.” I frown as I stare at him. “More like exposing myself,” my face is completely open and more of a target now. He unwraps his own waist piece and pulls it over my head, it’s soft but not silky. “The pink gives you away, royal silk is obvious.” I pause and stop in my tracks. “How’d you know it was royal silk?” He brings up my wrist as my jade bracelet dangles down my arm. “Just like this bracelet which is only for royals.” He drags me alongside him as the crowd starts to settle down. “I’ll walk you home, lead the way.”

“How do you know I have royal clothing?” He sighs as he pulls us out of the main streets. “I’m a royal too. Crown Prince Felix.” I remain blank. “Which is why I know the design of this.” He points to my jade bracelet, the engraving of it. “My wife, she had the same so I should be asking you. How do you have this?” I don’t say anything as I take a step back. “Hello, Yuna. Nice to meet my sister-in-law.”

~~~

She sighs heavily and crosses her arms in disgust. “So you know who I am.” I analyze her clothing more closely. The beading on her dress was made with no flaws but now hanging off from the misuse. Her pinks and beiges collide perfectly with each other but blue strapped to her head make her look common. I lean against the wall on my shoulder, “it was obvious, you’re twins.” She rolls her eyes and looks away, I guide her chin to turn towards me gently. “You’re almost the same person,” I scan her face for any scars or moles that could depict that she’s different from y/n. But nothing. Her eyes engrave into mine, her lips the same shade of pink, eyes the same shape as hers. But she’s not her.

She snaps her chin out of my reach. “But we’re not,” she picks up her dress and begins to walk past me. I follow her as she leads the way. A man pops out in front of me and yells, “boo!” Chan pulls off his hood. Yuna jumps back a bit. “God, what’s wrong with you?” He laughs uproariously and I groan and shake my head in my hands. I hear her giggle a bit and he turns his attention to her. “Whoa, you found her?” Yuna raises an eyebrow and looks at me for confirmation, “you were looking for me?” I sigh heavily and nod, “wasn’t it obvious? I knew who you were.” She blanks her face out and walks away, while Chan and I exchange a look and follow.

A pair of children are playing in front of us and are throwing a ball. I see her body release from tension as she watches them as we approach. “I know my sister died,” it’s silent between us. She stops in her tracks and slowly spins to me. “But why does that have anything to do with me?” I bite the inside of my cheek, “it doesn’t. But I just wanted to know if it was true, that she had a twin sister.” She flexes her fists into a ball, “I heard you’re looking for a bride,” there’s anger in her voice. I walk past her with Chan by my side and she closely keeps up. After a couple moments, I mention, “I have no intention of marrying another woman, no one will ever replace her.”

I hear her footsteps stop in place. “Everyone's replaceable,” Chan and I turn, standing frozen, staring at her. Something about her eyes is so familiar, like I've looked into them before. Like they’re sad, on the verge of tears, like y/ns. It must be a twin thing. “I mean you shouldn’t live your life in the past, she wouldn’t want you to be alone forever.” The ball accidentally launches our way and the children run to us. They bump into her and I stop them. “Return the bracelet,” the children look at each other. She looks at me weirdly, “now.” The kids bow their heads and hand me the bracelet that they stole from Yuna. They immediately apologize and get on their knees. “It’s okay, stealing isn’t the answer.” I hand them a bag with coins from Chan, which they gladly accept.

They run off and I turn to Yuna, who is standing astonished. “You might want this back,” I walk to her silently, holding out her jade bracelet. She clings onto it tightly and pulls it onto her wrist. “You’ve helped me twice today,” my mind flashes back to y/n. Her voice in sync with my memory, “If you did have an intention of marrying, you would be a good husband.” The resemblance is too much. My eyes flash to her wrist, a mole in the exact spot. Her eyes drive into mine, she looks away, as if she realizes she said something she shouldn’t have. “It scares me how alike they are,” I whisper to Chan. She clears her throat harshly, “before I was interrupted… I was showing you to my place.” I nod my head as she sways past us, she takes a sharp turn which causes us to skip ahead.

“Don’t mind the mess,” she holds down a handle and the door creaks awfully open. She nods her head to enter, Chan begins to walk but she pushes him back by his chest. “Not you… him only.” Chan widens his eyes and scoffs at her, his head twists to me. I raise my head and shoo him away. “Just take a walk, get snacks or something.” He rolls his eyes and storms away. “I don’t really trust him,” she mumbled to herself as she walked inside. But it was clear to me. Why? What made her feel that way?

She led me to a room, one with a table on the floor and silk bedding. I presume it’s her room. The appearance of the outside is destroyed, but inside reveals a marvelous haven. There’s a shelf of books, books no ordinary girl would have. I reach out to grab one. “So my sister really did a number on you.” My hands freeze in motion and flutter to my side. “What do you mean by that?” She suddenly begins to cower, placing the pot on the table. “You’re the crown prince, by marriage right?” I sigh heavily and look at the seat in front of her. “I’m not really supposed to talk about it. It’s sort of illegal.”

I sit in front of her as she pours the liquid into a cup beside me. “What could I do? People don’t even know I exist.” She munches on the cookie next to her. “Technically I’m not the crown prince.” Her brows furrow as she sips on her drink, “you know of her death, correct?” She chokes on her drink. She pats her chest and gasps, she stutters, “yes I know she’s.. gone. But not how it happened.” I chew on the inside of my cheek, dreading to relive the moments and explain what happened.

“She died before I could marry her, the morning of to be exact. She was murdered and I wasn’t allowed to investigate.” Her eyes drop into sorrow, deep with understanding and remorse for me. “You came to look for me, was it because you wanted to know more about her?” I shook my head, “no. I just wanted to see if the rumors are true, some part of me wishes it was her. But you’re not your sister, and I won’t imply you are anymore.” It’s silent between us. She reaches for her drink and stares at me, “you’re not drinking your tea?” I had forgotten all about it. “No, I don’t drink tea anymore.” The painful reminder of y/n, how she tried to make the world go away by it. Yuna bites her bottom lip as if tempted to say a secret.

I decided to try to get more information about her. “Have you ever met her?” Her eyes dart up to mine, eyes wide and she licks her lips to bide time. To utter simple words, “no.” I narrowed my eyes, “You never wondered to meet her? Not a single drop of curiosity?” I simply don’t believe it when she shakes her head no. I sit back a bit and smile unconvincingly. I sigh heavily, “I wish I could be more to Daniel.” When I brought up his name, I saw a slight twinkle in her, a glimpse of pain. It was something no one would easily notice, but it’s my job to recognize things. “Your little brother in fact, he was so destroyed by everything. The queen mother died of a broken heart by the death of y/n. I couldn’t comfort him, I was grieving myself.” My eyes begin to water without me being able to control it.

Her hand reaches over the table and clings onto my arm. “I’m so sorry,” her thumb rubs against me softly. “I had no idea how much it affected everyone.” My hand rests on hers, “you didn’t know. It’s alright.” I blink back my tears and wipe my face. She suddenly gets up from in front of me and comes by my side. She crouches to my level. She grabs the cloth that I used to conceal her and brushes it across my tear streams. “I don’t want you to hurt, I want to take your pain away.” Her words hit me so deep, so close to my heart. I wish she were y/n, so I could hold her close and kiss her. To have her in my arms again and never let her go.

~~

His eyes slowly travel and wander into mine. “You can’t, only she can.” He slowly takes the cloth from my hands and into his lap. “You said I was like her, let me help you.” I cup my hands around his face, “treat me like I was her. Pretend I am her and let me handle the pain.” He furrows his brows confused and shakes his head, “why? You’re doing this because you pity me?” I frown and try my best to explain, “no, because you saved me and I want to repay you.” I lean in and admire him, his sun-kissed freckles and hazel eyes. Looking so deep into mine. “Just let go,” I feel his breath against my lips and inch my way slowly. Our lips don’t connect as he puts them against my neck and he groans, he pulls me away by my arms and just stares. Completely shocked and completely entranced.

He doesn’t wait to connect his lips again. He sighs as if he’s finally letting himself relax. He’s groping at my clothes and leading me into his lap. So hungry for comfort and love. He claws at my buttons and tries his best to softly undo them. It’s taking too long and my body is beginning to feel on fire. I could care less if he’s imagining my sister instead of me, I just want him. I break away from him and undo them myself, I try to lead him back but he pulls away. “Should we be doing this?” He’s out a breath already and salvaging his strength. I stand up and drag the dress down my shoulders, achingly slow. “I want this.” He shakes his head and his hands pull my dress back up. “I can’t do this,” he looks faint and white. He can’t shake that he knows that he’s been the only one to touch me. So, he couldn’t leave me impure and unwed. Even if it’s a secret.

~~~

My head is spinning and I can’t look at her straight. Her face drops immediately and she turns away to readjust her dress. “I didn’t come here for this, I came to take you. And now that I’ve touched you, I have to take responsibility for you.” She seems to wipe her face, and breathes harshly. “Take me where?” I let silence overcome us until she realizes. And turns towards me angrily, “you want to take me to the palace? You’re out of your mind!” I try to reason with her and explain but she shushes me. Her hand rolls off her hair in disbelief, “explain to me why I should even bother to go. My own sister died in that place, she was murdered! And no one is allowed to investigate or even question what happened!” Her hands bang against the shelf, and she lays her head against it. “I will not go there just to be killed for existing. Just for my presence.”

I walk to her cautiously, my hand hovers over her skin. The skin I was touching so recklessly earlier. I lightly took her arm to face me, “you don’t have to go. But I want to make sure you’re taken care of, and since I’ve seen you in that way… I have to keep my duty and respect, and marry you.” She smiled lightly at the words. Her eyes stare at the contact, she shrugs her shoulders and looks up. “You have to ensure I won’t get hurt, that nothing will happen to me, if I say yes.” I nod my head and show her a sympathetic smile. “I want to take you to my home first.” Her eyebrow raises and her eyes crease, “to your home?”

~~~

We arrive with Chan leading us. Her head is concealed and so am I. We walk inside and Chan looks around to see if the halls are clear. He instructs us to go and I grab a hold of her hand, rushing her into my room. “Make sure no one comes inside,” I whisper to Chan and order him to stand outside of the door. I turn and watch her wander around my room. She lets her hood slip down, “this is where you live, hm? Didn’t take it that you were a pampered little lord before royalty.” I smile awkwardly as she walks around the room, her hips sway as her dress follows her movements. Y/n always was graceful, her motions would flutter my heart and she was truly beautiful. She had such a way with her movements, a performer.

I grabbed the box from the table beside my bed, containing the matching wedding ring to mine. She noticed me standing awkwardly and walked to me. I made no action or effort to explain as I slipped the ring on her fingers. “It’s beautiful,” she admired the crystals. Blue and white diamonds. It fit perfectly as it slid on like butter. Looking just as it was on y/n. I walked away to face a nightmare awaiting me.

“Felix?” I snapped to the balcony, where Daniel is standing with tears and distraught. He begins to sob and runs to Yuna. “You’re alive!” He jumps into her legs, screaming with joy but she pushes him away. Pushes him so harshly that he falls to the ground. He falls with a thump and looks up at her, “y/n?” The scene hurts my heartstrings, and I can’t move, can’t explain. He scans her from head to toe. “It’s me- Daniel. Don’t you remember?” Her head hangs low and she tries to help him up. He crawls away from her, shaking his head. My legs finally move and I get him up from the floor. “Why are you doing this?” His eyes begin to tear up again and his bottom lip trembles. “I don’t know you-“ her voice breaks as she backs away. Her hand clings to her chest as she breathes hard. “How could you say that? I’m your brother, your little brother!”

He stomps his foot down and reaches out his hand, holding a book. “You would read this to me, every night you would read to me.” Her bottom lip is trapped between her lips. “Don’t pretend you don’t know me-“ Tears begin to flow down his cheeks. But she stands just staring at him, nothing behind her eyes. He drops the book at her feet, “I wish you didn’t come back, I wish you stayed dead.” I stared at Daniel as he said those words, it seemed to shatter something inside Yuna. She falls backwards onto the bed and Daniel runs out of the room. Chan runs inside and I yell to run after him.

~~~

Yuna wouldn’t speak to me after that. She didn’t eat for the rest of the day and Chan drew her a bath to soothe her. But when he tried to encourage her, she sent him away. She just sat on my bed, staring into oblivion. “Yuna, I’m going to take you to the bath.” She didn’t look at me as I picked her up into my arms. I walked her to the bath and tried to tell her to get in. “Please,” I begged and she finally looked at me. I turned away as she undressed and went in. The bath was built into the floor and was filled with aromas and petals. I turned once she was inside and scrubbed her back. She wouldn’t move and I tried my best to help her.

I put her to bed but she dressed herself. I made sure she would. She turned away from me in the bed. “Yuna, tell me what’s wrong.” A tear slid down her cheek and she broke out into sobs. She cradled the blanket into her chest. I rubbed her shoulder which caused her sleeve to fall down. I noticed a burn on her lower neck which was not there before. Then I noticed she stopped moving. “Yuna?” I shook her but she didn’t move. I rolled her to face me and she wasn’t responding. I yelled out to Chan to get help. No, no. This can’t happen again. I carried her in my arms and ran out with no regard for who would see her. Servants followed behind me and I couldn’t shake off their faces, their fear. I ran to the doctor’s quarters and placed her on the bed.

I ordered him to help her and he immediately ran to work. “Poison,” he muttered and my skin wanted to scream. It burned and ached and my heart began to lose its beats. I forgot how to breathe and the walls began to close in. My vision began to get dark as I clutched her hand. “Felix,” the doctor tried to call my attention. I blocked him out of my mind and focused only on her. The marking on her neck worsened and then a shine hit my eye. I pulled her sleeve to reveal a needle sticking from the hem, dripping was her blood mixed with a green substance and I knew it was placed on purpose. Chan ran in behind me and yanked me out of the way. He led me out of the room and in the hall. “Where were you?!” I roared at Chan and he stood speechless. “Where were you when this happened?” He rubbed his face with the palm of his hand, that’s when I noticed it. A marking the same as Yuna’s.

My eyes narrowed at him and I faced the wall to hide my realization. “I don’t really trust him,” Yuna’s voice rings my head. It finally clicked for me, all of this. Y/n’s death, her assassination, the poisoned needle in Yuna’s clothes. Chan had just as much authority as me to enter and escape secretly. Just as much power to kill. But why? Why would he do this? I punched the wall and yelled. My father, it’s the only reason. He may be dead but his business will live on. He wanted to train me as an assassin. He wanted to gain control of me. What better way to do that by manipulating and controlling my closest advisor? Chan, what a traitor. You killed y/n. Didn’t you? And I won’t let you get away with it.

The doctor comes out and immediately brings me back to the situation. “We’re going to need an antidote immediately. She’ll die without it.” We don’t have the resources here to look for one or create one. I have to get her out of here. “Quickly get a carriage ready to the palace,” I ordered and everyone scrambled to hurry. I stayed by her side the whole way and she was struggling to breathe and clenched her hand against mine. I tried to calm her and tell her she’ll be okay. Her neck had begun to turn green and swell. I recognize this. Of course, it’s my father’s poison. I’ve never seen it but I’ve heard of its effects. As soon as we arrived, I recited the antidote to the royal doctor and he immediately injected the serum into her.

Her chest began to rise and fall normally. The swelling went down and the green disappeared. I sighed in relief and ordered everyone to leave the room. I sat alone next to her, holding her hand and crying. Her eyes opened with a flick and she mumbled a light, “Felix?” I gasped in delight and shushed her. I gripped her hand and kissed it. “You’re okay, thank god.” I whimpered with my head down. Shaking my head back and forth. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you died.” My voice is breaking and sounding pathetic, but I could care less. “I wouldn’t leave you again.” My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Again? “I wouldn’t dare die on you again. I just got you back.” Got me back? “Sleep, get some rest.” That’s all I told her and tried to push away the mumbles.

She pulled me back in. “Don’t you see me, lix?” Her hand brushes on my cheek, pulls me and whispers, “it’s me, lixie.” My tears continue to flow down my cheeks while I stare at her. “You’re not in the right mind-” she cut me off. “I love you.” My heart drops and I shudder away from her touch. This is too much, all I can think of is y/n. “Stop.” I tremble onto my feet and she falls asleep. My head cannot handle this. I don’t know what to think and just leave. Is it true? Is all of it true?

~~~

I wake up with my head pounding and the room is dark. So very dark. My vision clears up and I realize I’m back in Felix’s room. I turn to see Felix in the corner. Huddled up in a ball on a seat. He notices I’m awake and sits up quickly. He clears his throat as I sit up too. “God, what happened?” He hands me a cup of water and I swallow it whole. “You were poisoned.” My mouth gapes open and my mind flashes to last night. “You were out for a couple days.” I begin to feel my blood rush to my head as I want to scream out. My palm rushes to my head to try to ease my headache. I’m trying to remember the lost time when he blurts out unbelievable words. “I won’t marry you.” My eyes dart towards his direction. “What are you talking about? You won’t marry me?”

He stands up angrily and crosses his arms. “I won’t marry you. I’m sending you back.” My eyes water and I try to blink them back. “But why? Is it because of the poisoning? Did I do something wrong?” He doesn’t face me now and his arms drop to his side. “No,” he says simply as if he doesn’t owe me an explanation. “Is it because of my sister?” He turns in fury to me. “You almost died!” My chest rises up and down heavily. I get up from the bed. “But I’m not! You can’t blame me and punish me for something that I had no control over!” His fists tightened, “and no one should blame me for not knowing who killed y/n!” I take a step back, “what?” I say in disbelief and almost breathless.

“I won’t let you die in vain, not like she did. I can’t let this happen.” I scoffed, “she didn’t die in vain. I know that because she wanted to be happy and she was. And you have to trust that the person who killed her will eventually be revealed.” His expression changes heavily, as if something had clicked in his mind. He takes small steps closer to me. “You claimed you didn’t know her, and as you said she wanted to be happy, as if you did meet her.” My expression goes blank. “I do know her killer will be revealed,” he sets his hands on my shoulders and leans into my ear, “because..” His words are a husky whisper in my ear. “You know who killed your sister. Because it was you at the beginning, y/n.”

~~~

I caught her, so perfect in a lie. She steps back while shaking her head, fear in her eyes. “You switched places with her.” Her hand clasped over her mouth, concealing a cry of realization. She is starting to hyperventilate, and she clings to her chest. “Please- let me explain.” I give her no chance, and approach her, “you let me think you died! Do you know the pain I went through?!” She sobs loudly now and closes her eyes. I shake my head and my hands clench into a fist. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Her words are broken and full of heartbreak. She tries to calm herself down and explain, but I turn away.

“I switched places with her because I wanted her to experience being a princess and to be truly loved at least once… I wasn’t expecting her to die that day.” I snapped my head, “She said she loved me, as she lay dying in my hands.” I was screaming internally. Why? Why would she play with me like that? “She chose not to break her cover… for me.” She got on her knees in front of me, “please believe me. I had to keep playing like her, I couldn’t live in that place anymore.” I begin to tremble as I drop down too, “you couldn’t be with me? Be happy with me?! I would’ve treasured you and cared for you!” She breaks down even more and reaches for me. I reject her touch, “if you would’ve given me the chance. I would’ve made you happy.”

“Please, Felix. I’m still me!” A stray tear falls down my cheek and I struggle to swallow. “Felix, look at me!” She latches onto me and forces my head to her. “It’s me! Your y/n, your wife!” She rubs my cheek as she tries to soothe me, but it doesn’t. My heart feels as if it’s breaking. “You broke my heart, broke everyone’s heart. Daniel is suffering as much as me. And you think I can just forget that?” I bite my lip and hesitantly pry off her hands from me. “I can’t,” I walked away from her and out the door. I stood outside the door, holding it close and listening to her cries and pleas. It’s for the best.

~

I knocked on the door the next morning with maids following behind me. Y/n… She was sitting on the bed waiting. “Pack up her stuff and get her ready to travel.” She gasps in disbelief and stands up. “Leave us!” She says with such intensity the maids jump back. I nod at them to leave and they do. “Asshole!” I furrow my brows in confusion. She throws a pillow at me. Then a blanket. Then her shoes. All while yelling incoherent insults. Then she pushes me onto the bed while slapping and kicking me. Getting all her anger out. “How dare you try to send me away! I’m your wife. I love you and I want to be with you! I will not let you reject me!” I start to laugh, a real laugh. She stops in her tracks with a pillow above her head. She begins to giggle and smile when she notices I find her amusing.

“You’re hilarious,” she frowns and crosses her arms. “I’m supposed to be intimidating.” I sigh and she backs down and sits next to me on the bed. “Are you really gonna send me away?” She blinks at me with such hope in her eyes. “Give me a reason why I shouldn't.” She raises her shoulders at me in disbelief, “did you not hear my whole speech right now?” I smile and sit up. “What do I get out of this?” She throws the pillow at my head and tackles me. “A loving wife who listens to you!” I laugh again and watch her. She rests herself in my lap and it makes me anxious. She notices and gets self conscious too. “Are you not okay with this?” I look to the side, avoiding her gaze. I know I can’t say no to her, and she knows it too.

“Look at me,” she pulls my chin to her. “It’s me, lixie. Just as before.” Her hair is messy from all her playfulness. Her clothing is a beautiful shade of pink and hanging off her shoulders, her beautiful skin. So soft and smells of roses. Her beauty is unmatched and looks even more in this setting. Just us together. “You want to know what you get out of this?” I make eye contact with her and already know what she’s going to do. She begins to untie her dress and lets it slip off. I close my eyes and shutter when I feel her clothing slip down my legs and onto the floor.

~~~

He can’t avoid this. You won’t let him. You place his hands on your breasts and he gasps. “My god-” He whispers to himself and he can’t resist as his eyes open. He practically devours you with his gaze. “This is what married people do,” you begin to rock your hips against his covered length. He bites his bottom lip and whimpers. “The best part…” you begin to moan which causes him to get more comfortable. He lets out a sigh of relief, “making love.” He sits up and attaches his lips to your chest. Slowly traveling across your skin with wet kisses and getting to your breasts. You let out a moan of pleasure so loud, you feel almost embarrassed. Almost. But not enough to stop your hunger.

You yank his hair up so you can press your lips to him. He moans in your mouth and the feeling is incredible. Finally, After so long. You moan into his mouth and his hips push up into you, needing more. He grabs your hips and pushes you under. He begins to strip off his clothes with no regard. You take the opportunity to get more comfortable and drag yourself onto the pillows and under the sheets. “Come here,” he whispers and leaps next to you. You giggle and attach your lips again. He slowly thrusts inside you which causes you both to moan out loud. “Fuck, fuck,” he mumbles softly against your lips. “God, you feel so good.” He can’t help but snap up into you.

You moan breathlessly as he begins to take a rhythm. He stares into your eyes, so lustful and lovingly. He leans next to your ear, “my little princess huh?” His hand sneaks to your breast, pinches your nipple gently. “Thinking you could just get away with it?” He pinches it mercifully which causes you to whimper, “imma show you all that you missed.” His hand lets go off your nipple and gains a new target. His thumb circles your clit which causes you to let out a scream like moan. He starts to speed up his movements when you get more loud. You feel as if you could cry as your moans turn into whimpers. “Is my wife too fucked out, hm? Can’t take it?” Your body begins to twitch as you grip his arm. “Fuck, Lix. Just make me finish!” He laughs satisfactorily in your ear and licks it teasingly.

He covers your mouth as you get louder. “I love your noises but we don’t want anyone to interfere.” You roll your eyes as you feel the build up slowly being released. Your body snaps and it all let go, making you tremble and let out a final moan. He pulls out and watches the liquid fall out of you. He smirks at his masterpiece and pulls away but you grip his length. He winces and stares at you. You rub up and down his length, “I want you to finish inside me.” You place it at your entrance and he chokes down a smile. “Just can’t help yourself huh? Want my babies too?” He re enters and you whimper at the overstimulation. “I do, Lixie. I want your babies.”

He practically finishes at your words. It was so sudden, you laughed shocked. He moaned in your ear which made the butterflies in your tummy appear. “That easy huh?” You teased him and he laughed as he flopped on his side. He pulled you into his chest and held you tight. “I’m never gonna let you go again.” You smiled and drew hearts on his chest, “and I’m never gonna leave.” He clears his throat, “this might be a bad time but..” You look up at him. “I know who killed your sister.” I sit up confused. “Don’t worry, I took care of it already.” I blink at him blankly. “Why do you think Chan hasn’t been around?”

~~~

A/n: Thanks so much for the kind comments and waiting so long for this storyyy. But this isn’t the end. What if I told you they met again in another life? Well that story is for another day so.. Stay Tuned for “Mama’s boy!”

[jpitha]

Between the Black and Grey 61

First / Previous / Next

Chloe sat in the large, empty room; on the floor cross legged, her long silvery hair spilling around her artfully. When Gord saw her, he rather thought it was a little too set up. She had arranged herself to look as serene as possible. He stood a respectful distance away, arms crossed, waiting.

"You might as well just ask what you're going to ask" Chloe said, without opening her eyes. "I'm never going to be able to reach inner peace with you standing over there, metaphorically tapping your foot"

Gord uncrossed his arms, awkwardly. "I... was going to ask if you'd show me how to meditate," he, said sheepishly.

Chloe opened one eye and regarded Gord. "Really." she said, flatly.

"Yes, don't sound too surprised. You've been meditating since you came back, and it really seems to help you. I remember you... before, and you were a lot more hot headed."

Before she was killed, and Gord carried her memory core in a duffle along with one hundred some odd others for a few centuries he meant. It made for odd relationships with all the AIs that he brought back. Chloe was an old friend even before that, so it felt especially odd.

Chloe nodded without opening her eyes. "Well then come on, sit down."

Gord got down onto the floor and sat across from Chloe. He folded his legs to match hers. One of the benefits to the bodies that were built for the AIs was they didn't have to worry about the same kind of biological degradation that the BIs had. Gord was just as flexible now as he was when he first got this body.

"Okay, now what?"

"Close your eyes."

Gord did as he was told. He tried hard not to feel silly, and only mostly succeeded.

"Okay, now what?"

"Now, think about nothing." Chloe tried to hide it, but a slight grin escaped her lips when she spoke.

"That's it?" Gord opened one eye and looked at Chloe. Her eyes were still closed, and she was still sitting serenely.

"That's it. But remember, Gord. Simple and Easy are two different things."

Gord sat and tried to think about nothing. He tried to concentrate on his body, how he was feeling, how the deck plates felt on his thighs and bottom. He listened to the HVAC hum in the room. Hmm. that sounded too loud. Gord would have to reach out to Environmental to see about them coming by to check on things. No, he's not thinking of nothing. Back to nothing, back to nothing. There was a click from the lock on the door. That's odd. It shouldn't auto lock like that unless Chloe configured it that way. She was right, this was hard. He opened his eyes, and saw Chloe standing over him, her hands on her hips.

"It takes practice, you'll get it." She reached out her hand to Gord. He took it and stood up. "What did you need? While I'm pleased that you're interested in meditation, I don't think that's the only reason you stopped by."

Gord nodded. "It's Fen. Reports are coming in that she's acting... odd since Northern died."

Chloe raised an eyebrow. "I won't comment that you're still getting regular reports on the current Empress of humanity, but will only say 'Odd how?'"

They started walking. Home was still pretty empty, but it was filling up more every day. New AIs were being built - not just the ones from Gord's supply of crystal memory cores, but whole new people - something that hasn't been done in nearly half a millennia. Chloe found that was was pleased to be seeing so many new faces.

"She's taking more trips out in her Imperial yacht, linking from site to site and making official visits." Gord said as they walked.

"So?"

"Yeah, but she never did it before. She's linking everywhere as well, even while the imperials are on a Gate building spree. They're putting them up everywhere. Rumor is she's traveling with a whole lab of K'laxi scientists too.

"Gord, I know you're not racist, so why is that odd? She was raised K'laxi, remember? It's her first language. I would think it would be more odd if she didn't have K'laxi around."

"It's more-" Gord struggled with the words, something that rarely happened to him. "-it's a feeling, I guess. I knew Fen when she was still with her first wife on that Gren station, just a refugee looking for purpose." His shoulders drooped. "She isn't the same person as she was."

"Nobody ever is, Gord. You know this better than most." Chloe's voice was softer, less cold than Gord remembered from before. "You've lived - actually been alive - longer than probably anyone else ever. You've seen so many people grow, live, change, live more, and die than anyone else will."

"That's my point. I have seen maybe millions of people grow and change in their lives, and what Fen is doing isn't what other people do."

"Well, few other people have been marinated in trillions of alien nanomachines from another dimension who are constantly searching for energy and give her frankly worryingly powerful abilities."

Gord chuckled. "Fair point. I only ever spent real time with Raaden and now Fen. There were a few others, one or two that I actually spoke with, but I never got to know them, and Fen is the first one I got to know before..." He frowned again. "I don't like it."

"At least she's doing things for AI rights. It's been too long since we've seen people who give more than a passing glance to us, and it's not a look of disgust." Chloe nodded and waved to a few people as they walked. They were approaching the main habitat of Home, and the crowds were getting thicker.

"Yes, that's all true, but-" Gord sighed. "I don't know. I can't really articulate it, and when I try it comes off as a hunch or a feeling. I'll think on it more."

"Maybe the meditiation will help." Chloe patted his shoulder once and turned, to go a different way down the hall. Gord continued on until he reached his office and sat. The paperwork was piling up again. He was hoping to be able to find an assistant to help him at least sort the piles into things he could safely ignore and things he actually had to read, but there weren't enough people yet. Gord was on his own to do his own paperwork.

As he read, and sighed, and marked up docs, and sent them off for revisions and political replies, his pad chirruped at him. It was a notification from one of his... operatives in Sol. Text only and sent via laser beacon at tremendous expense. Regular messages were sent via the standard postal lasers. To use a beacon meant they didn't want anyone else to see the message.

3RD FLEET DEPARTING SOL WITH YACHT AT HEAD. LOCATION UNKNOWN, BUT FLEET SPENT LAST WEEK STOCKING UP. ALL SHIPS LOADED FOR LONG TERM ENGAGEMENT

Gord read the message three times, willing his mind to try and make sense of it. The third fleet was the smallest, but was also the one with the newest ships. It was usually an expeditionary fleet, not an attack fleet. What do do? He didn't want to lose his asset to discovery, but he also had to know where they were going.

TRACK THEIR LINK AND PROVIDE DESTINATION ESTIMATE AFTER THEY DEPART. DO NOT FOLLOW.

Tracking the wormhole link was a tricky thing, and he was honestly surprised it was possible at all. When the wormhole generators were first developed, the destination of a link was known only to the ship going. These days, people can do a deep, probing scan of the area the ships were in and try and read the... echos of the wormhole. It wasn't completely accurate, but it usually got you to the same star system.

Half a day later, and Gord was getting ready for his shift on the Command Deck. Most of the senior AIs took turns being "in charge" of Home, but none of them really wanted to be known as the captain or commander. They felt it was much more like a shift leader or a manager. As he approached the command room, his pad chirruped again. He glanced down at the message.

LINK TRACKING COMPLETE. DESTINATION UNEXPLORED PART OF GALAXY. ESTIMATED COORDINATED INCLUDED. HISTORICAL TELESCOPE DATA REVEALS MASSIVE ENERGY SOURCE. PULSAR, MAGNETAR, OR SIMILAR.

Gord stared at the notification until one of the sensor officers, a new AI that Gord didn't recognize right away, spoke up. "Uh Gord? You all right?"

Blinking, Gord looked up from his pad. "Yes, uh, just got a notification while I was walking in." He looked down at the pad. "Say, can you pull up historical data based on coordinates?"

"Sure Gord. If we have something up to date, we can get it in a few minutes. Older data will take longer to search. We can always link a beacon ove-"

"No. No beacon for now. Just tell me what we know about these coordinates."

The young officer nodded. "Yes sir."

An hour later, they spoke up. "Gord? Those coordinates are way out there. Nobody we know has ever visited them in person. Hell, Jones and I are only 75% sure we could generate the power to link that far away."

"Jones?"

"He works in Reactor. I know him from playing pool."

"Ah. Please, continue."

"Anyway, it's way out there, and from what we can tell there's a really massive energy source there. Telescopes haven't tried, and nobody linked a beacon over there, but it's something."

"I wish Hat was still around." Gord said, frowning. Medicine Hat was his oldest friend and his ship. They were together for literal centuries, traveling the Galaxy. Hat was destroyed by Imperial forces back at the beginning of the AI war, and had refused Gords offer to taking a snap of his memory. His last act was to toss Gord into an escape pod and kick him out before blowing his reactor to slow down an Imperial Dreadnought.

The crew sat in silence, waiting to see if Gord was going to say anything else. He sat in his chair sullenly, not looking at anything. Slowly the crew turned back to their duties.

"Dammit!" Gord slapped the arms of the chair and stood up. "Chloe!"

"Yes Gord?" Chloe's voice came over the intercom.

"Get us a ship. You and I are going to see what Fen's up to."

"...Okay Gord. Meet me in the hangar in an hour."

[ravenwriter16]

hiiii! I have a lil what-if question! how would the emperors (mainly eclipse) react to a y/n who is obsessed with the architecture and the politics of the kingdom? like they always wanna join eclipse as he does paperwork (even thought it’d look boring to any other kid), and even join his meetings with officials if possible. and they even take notes, like what they’d do to solve a problem or questions they have! ty for reading <3

Hehehehe, I took this ask and RAN with it. Hope you enjoy!

You look over the scrolls of blueprints holding possible designs for the new schoolhouse. You had worked for days trying to get the permission of the Imperial Table to start on this project of yours, and now you could finally break ground!

With this new building, every child regardless of class can get an education! Just like you had all those years ago.

You look over your shoulder at the giant pin board you had put together. Eyes following the lines of red yarn from one document to the other.

"Maybe...if we build using dragon scales, we wouldn't have to pay fees for wood and stone in the long run--,"

A knock on your door startles you slightly. You sigh and rub your temple, "Come in."

Eclipse steps into the room, his glasses hanging from the chain around his neck. He must have just gotten done with his paper work.

Oh joy...

He smiles when he sees you but it falters when he notices your own pile of scrolls and paperwork. Walking further into the room, he waves in a servant pushing a cart full of food.

"Good afternoon, little comet."

"Eclipse." You give a curt nod, squinting your eyes at a certain sketch on your board.

"Busy day so far?" He muses, walking right up next to you.

You shrug, "I guess. I had to deal with Baron Ruxley in regards to funding for school supplies."

"Is that pig still refusing to budge?" Eclipse glances over at you.

"Yeah...Where you able to review the proposed budget I sent you." You walk up to your board and unpin some cloth. You still needed to decide on colors...

"I did." He hums, lifting a hand and moving some hands behind your ear. You flinch while he smiles, "Beautiful."

You move away from his hand and head over to your scrolls, "W-what did you think of the proposal?"

Eclipse sighs and waves dismissively, "It was too little. Why did you ask for such an amount? You merely have to say the word, and I will give you mountains of gold."

You shake your head, "One needs to put the frog in cold water first if one needs to boil it. If I asked for millions upon millions of gold, the nobles would be opposed to the idea of building the school."

"You shouldn't dwell on what those fools think. Me and your fathers hardly care--,"

"And that's why there is a faction trying to take all three of you down and reclaim the throne." You huff, looking over at him while placing a hand on your hip, "You out of all people should know that better than anyone.

"Of course I do." Eclipse rolls his eyes, "I would have never gotten my position if I was oblivious to such things."

"Then please just treat this project normally. As if a normal person proposed it instead of me."

"But you have hardly shown this much passion for ANYTHING in years." Eclipse gives you a sad smile, "I just want to help..."

You sigh which turns into a yawn towards the end. "Just...treat it like normal...Oh! And thanks for letting me listen in on your meeting the other day."

"Why of course. I was surprised to see you taking more notes--,"

"I have to make sure I know the ins and outs of the Imperial Laws."

"Hmm..."

You both sit in silence for a good few minute. Simply just being with each other. Eclipse taps his fingers on his hips, thinking of...something.

"When is that last time you took a break?" He eyes you up and down as you plop down in your desk chair.

"Uhmmm..." you drag a hand down your face, "Yesterday..."

Eclipse's rays twitch, "What?"

"Yesterday." You shrug and fold your hands over your stomach, "I caught a stroke of inspiration last night and haven't stopped yet. I finished the blueprints for the science wing of the school, so that's a plus--,"

"So that's why you didn't come down for supper last night?" Eclipse's voice starts gaining a bit of a growl to it, "And why you didn't come to breakfast OR lunch?"

You blink and look back down at him, "I did?...huh..."

Eclipse sighs and pinches the spot between his eyes, "What am I going to do with you..." He snaps his fingers and the servant pushes the cart closer to you both, "I took the liberty of bringing you some snacks. Eat."

"Thanks, but I still have so much to do." You shake your head and hold up a finger for each item you list off, "I have to double check the finalized budget, find vendors who are willing to see the actual school-equipment, schedule a meeting to discuss funding with some willing nobles, then I also have to go down to the site where we are planning to build and--,"

You stop when a large warm hand cups your cheek. "Sweetie...Though I am happy that you are finally taking your duties as Crown Princess seriously, and I LOVE talking to you about the affairs of our Empire, working yourself to the bone while also neglecting your needs is something I cannot let slide."

"Oh please..." You roll your eyes, "Surely as Emperor--,"

"I am not talking to you as Emperor." Eclipse shakes his head, his gaze softening, "I'm talking to you as your Father."

You sigh and look over at the food, "You're not going to stop bothering me unless I eat something, are you?"

"Oh most definitely." He chuckles while smirking.

You groan and roll your eyes again, but a small smile works its way on your lips all the same. You get up from your chair, stretching out your back. Eclipse's smile grows as you head to the cart.

"Fine...But you're eating with me." You look over your shoulder at him, "Need to make sure you didn't drug all of this."

Eclipse laughs and nods his head, "Of course, little comet~."

[muiitoloko]

A few days ago I remembered some videos/posts that talked about how Judge Turpin and Minister Frollo (The Hunchback of Notre-Dame) looked alike, well, imagine if our dear Turpin had a partner with a strong personality like Esmeralda has, who doesn't obey the judge's orders and one of her biggest hobbies is to irritate him (whether by doing silly things like pasting drawings on his things or even something like leaving the house when he had said no) but despite everything they get along well and love each other in their own way

You don't have to write about it, only if you want to of course, I just had to ramble about it with someone

(Isso tá remoendo minha cabeça desde o final de semana juro pra ti 😭)

Title: The Witch and the Judge.

Summary: Despite everything, Judge Turpin loved his damned gypsy.

Pairing: Judge Turpin × Fem! Reader

Warnings: none

Author's Notes: Haha, can you imagine Judge Turpin dealing with a partner like that? It would be like trying to control a whirlwind with a mind of its own! 😄 But hey, who knows, maybe underneath all that irritation, they'd find a strange sort of harmony. Love can be weird like that!

Your life with Judge Richard Turpin is a complex dance of irritation and affection, a performance that seems to bewilder and entrap him in equal measure. Despite his stern demeanor and the cruel reputation that precedes him, his infatuation with you is a peculiar mix of fascination and frustration, which you wield with the deftness of a seasoned performer.

One crisp morning, you decide to step out into the bustling streets of London without his permission. Dressed in your colorful gypsy attire, you wander through the market square, the scent of fresh bread and spices filling the air. The whispers and stares of townsfolk follow you, a stark contrast to the grim respect they show Turpin. When you finally return, his expression is a storm of fury and relief.

"Where have you been?" he demands, his baritone voice echoing through the grand halls of the mansion. You merely smile, a knowing glint in your eye, and brush past him, leaving him to stew in his mixed emotions.

On another occasion, the mischievous glint in your eye turns towards his prized judicial robes. Waiting until he is preoccupied with one of his many cruel decrees, you sneak into his chambers and don the imposing black garb. The heavy fabric swirls around you as you stand before the mirror, mimicking his haughty stance and imperious glare.

When he finds you, he is momentarily struck silent by the absurdity of the sight. His stern mask cracks, revealing a flicker of amusement before the inevitable exasperation sets in. "You are impossible," he mutters, shaking his head. You laugh, a light and teasing sound that softens his scowl.

Perhaps the most audacious stunt you pull involves the elaborate wooden closet in his study. With a cunning and agility that both amazes and infuriates him, you manage to tie him up inside, gagging him with one of his own silk cravats. You then stride into his courtroom, his robes billowing around you, and take his place on the bench.

The courtroom murmurs in confusion, but none dare question the judge—your judge. You bang the gavel, summoning an authoritative tone. "Order in the court," you declare, relishing the power. The charade lasts only a few minutes before Beadle Bamford bursts in, eyes wide with shock and horror at the sight of you impersonating his master.

Beadle grabbed you firmly by the arm and led you out, his grip tight and his face a mask of concern. You allowed yourself to be guided, playing the part of the innocent and bewildered gypsy wife.

He whisked you into Judge Turpin's office, his steps quick and urgent. "Tell me where the Judge is, now!" Beadle demanded, his voice sharp with worry.

You tapped a finger against your cheek thoughtfully, pretending to ponder. "Oh, Judge Turpin? Hmm... I seem to recall now. I believe I left him somewhere."

Suddenly, a muffled buzzing noise filled the room, as if someone was screaming but gagged. Beadle's eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. "What have you done this time?"

With a flourish, you pointed towards the large wooden closet in the corner of the study. "Why don't you take a look inside, Beadle?"

Beadle hesitated for a moment, then approached the closet cautiously. With a swift motion, he opened the door and Judge Turpin tumbled out, bound and gagged, falling into Beadle's arms. Turpin's eyes blazed with anger and humiliation, but his words were muffled by the silk cravat gagging him.

"You! You treacherous witch!" Turpin's voice was muffled but filled with venom. "I'll have you hanged for this!"

Beadle swiftly removed the gag from Turpin's mouth, allowing him to spew threats and curses. Turpin squirmed in Beadle's grasp, struggling to free himself. "Beadle, you fool! Release me at once! This is insubordination!"

Beadle obeyed with a reluctant nod, releasing Judge Turpin who stumbled to his feet, his face contorted with rage and embarrassment. As Beadle swiftly exited the study, leaving you alone with the seething judge, you turned to face him, the smirk on your face only serving to further incense him.

Turpin lunged towards you, his baritone voice thundering, "You damn gypsy witch! What foul magic have you used on me this time?" His hooked nose twitched with disdain as he grabbed you by the shoulders, his grip tight and unyielding.

You met his furious gaze with a playful glint in your eyes, pretending to be both innocent and provocative at the same time. "Oh, my dear Judge," you cooed, your voice sweet and mocking, "I just wanted to remind you how it feels to be at my mercy."

Turpin's anger only seemed to grow, but beneath it, there was a familiar gleam of desire. "You are an infuriating creature," he growled, his face inches from yours. "You toy with me like a cat with a mouse. Do you take pleasure in humiliating me?"

You chuckled softly, not breaking eye contact. "Maybe a little," you admitted, your hands reaching up to gently touch his face, tracing the lines of his furrowed brow. "But you love it, don't you, Richard? Admit it."

Turpin's expression softened slightly, his sharp features relaxing under your touch. His voice was quieter now, filled with a mix of frustration and longing. "You bewitch me, woman," he muttered, his breath warm against your skin. "I should have you arrested for this insolence."

You leaned in closer, your lips almost brushing against his ear. "But you won't," you whispered, your voice a low murmur filled with promise. "Because deep down, you want me just as much as I want you."

Turpin's grip on your shoulders loosened, his resolve weakening. "You are a dangerous temptation," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I should resist you."

"But you won't," you repeated, a playful smile spreading across your face. "Because I'm the only one who truly understands you, Richard. The only one who can challenge you."

Turpin's hands slid from your shoulders to your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together. His voice was low and urgent. "You infuriate me to no end, woman," he breathed, his lips finding yours in a possessive kiss.

You melted into his embrace, knowing that despite his harsh words, you held a power over him that no one else could match. As his hands roamed over your body, you whispered against his lips, "Just admit it, Richard. You love me."

Turpin pulled away slightly, his dark eyes boring into yours. "Damn you," he muttered, his voice thick with desire and frustration. "I love you, you wretched gypsy."

You smirked, tracing a finger along the edge of his jawline. "And I love you, my Judge," you replied, your voice filled with equal parts affection and mischief.

Turpin's lips curved into a reluctant smile, a rare sight, as he watched you waltz away in his judge's robes. His eyes followed your figure, a mixture of frustration and reluctant admiration evident in his expression. He shook his head slightly, knowing that your antics would continue to both infuriate and intrigue him.

As you reached the doorway, ready to disappear around the corner, Turpin acted swiftly, stepping forward to close the distance between you. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you firmly against his chest. His hooked nose buried in your hair, he inhaled deeply, the scent of your wildflowers and spice overwhelming his senses.

"Damn witch," Turpin murmured softly, his voice a mixture of exasperation and desire. "You've bewitched me from the moment I saw you."

You tilted your head back, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eyes. "Have I, Judge?" you teased, knowing full well the effect you had on him.

Turpin's grip tightened around you, his baritone voice low and urgent. "Yes, you have," he admitted gruffly. "And now, my dear, it's time for you to learn your place."

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "And what place is that, Judge?" Your voice was teasing, but there was an underlying challenge in your tone.

His lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, "Today, I'll be teaching you how to be a proper wife."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a mix of anticipation and curiosity washing over you. Turpin's intentions were clear, yet you couldn't help but smile mischievously.

Before he could act further, you danced out of his embrace, slipping away from his hold. With a flick of your wrist, you threw off the judge's robes, letting them fall to the floor. You turned to face him, standing there in your gypsy attire, a smirk playing on your lips.

Turpin's eyes followed your every move, a mixture of frustration and desire evident in his gaze. As you began to walk away, he couldn't resist any longer. He lunged forward, capturing you in his arms once again. This time, he didn't let you slip away.

"I warned you, you vexing woman," he growled, his lips finding yours in a fierce kiss. His hands moved possessively over your body, pulling you closer against him.

You melted into his embrace, knowing that despite his stern exterior, he was captivated by you in ways he couldn't resist. His kisses were demanding, his touch possessive, but there was a rawness in his desire that matched your own.

When he finally released you, Turpin rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours. "You are a maddening creature," he admitted, his voice low and husky. "But you're mine."

You smiled, tracing a finger along his jawline. "And you're mine, Richard," you replied softly, your voice filled with a warmth that surprised even you.

Turpin's eyes softened as he looked at you, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "Come," he said finally, taking your hand in his. "Let's put an end to these games for now."

You followed him willingly, knowing that while your playful antics had brought you closer together, there was much more to discover about the complex dance that had entwined your lives.

[leapingbadger]

Missing

Summary: Set after the events of Season 1, Episode 9.  Hunter deals with the squad’s confrontation with Crosshair on Bracca.

Word Count: 2103

The engines hummed as the Marauder careened though the blue swirls of hyperspace.

“What about Kamino? Can we infiltrate undetected?” Hunter asked, wincing as he leaned for in the chair.

“Unlikely. Kamino was hard to access during the Republic, this new Empire will have it completely locked down.” Tech said, punching something unknown into his datapad and pushing his goggles up his nose.

“What about tracking him? Is there a way to see where he’s deployed? Intercept him on another mission?” Hunter asked.

“The files are hard to crack but I don’t see him listed on any current missions. It’s possible he was injured during our mission on Bracca”

“Injured? Can you find out?” Hunter asked in a worried voice.

Tech tapped a few more things into his datapad, “unclear. I can’t gain access from here. Crosshair’s whereabouts are currently a mystery.”

Hunter signed and flopped back in his chair, immediately regretting it. His hand clutched his chest as he hissed through his teeth.

Tech signed and rolled his eyes, kneeling next to his brother to check on his injury, “I gave you strict instructions not to move or jostle the injury to his chest. You should rest. We can discuss this in more detail later.”

It had been a long couple of days since their run ins with Crosshair and Cad Bane and the adrenaline Hunter had felt had since crashed, enveloping him in a deep and penetrating exhaustion. He shook his head as though trying to shake it off.

“No, we need to keep working.” Hunter said doggedly.

Hunter wasn’t sure when he’d ever been so stressed. Seeing Crosshair again and hearing the malice in his voice was almost too much to bear. “aim for the kid” hissed in his mind and he involuntarily clenched his fist. Hunter had wanted nothing more than to stun his brother and drag him with them, but they had been outnumbered and barely made it out in one piece, only to be intercepted by a bounty hunter.

“Hunter, if I haven’t thought of a way to get Crosshair back in the last few months, short of storming an imperial base, vastly outnumbered to our certain doom, it is likely not possible with the current data we possess. You need to focus on healing and keeping Omega from the numerous bounty hunters currently searching for her.”

“You heard him, Tech. We need to get that chip out. He’ll stop then, he’ll go back to his old self.”

Tech signed and sat back in the copilot’s seat, “Hunter, Crosshair was always severe and superior. I wonder if whatever part of him is still active with the chip is enjoying his new status within the empire. He is a commander now. Remember when you were promoted to sergeant, how he reacted? I do not believe every action can be attributed to the chip. I think we need to be prepared for that.”

Hunter hung his head in his hands. Tech was usually right about these things. “We saw the way the chip changed Wrecker; you can’t tell me that part of him was active during that."

“We do not know the long-term effects of the chips. Perhaps if Order 66 has been successfully resolved for the clone, the chip eventually loses efficacy,”

“We still have to try and get him out,” Hunter said quietly.

“I concur. He is our brother. We just have to be strategic, and nothing will happen when you are injured and the team exhausted. Now rest.” Tech said firmly. He settled back into his chair, datapad up to his eyes.

***

Hunter kept vigil in the cockpit, sleep eluding him as usual. His squad were scattered about the ship getting some much needed sleep. Wrecker and Echo had taken the racks, their soft snores audible over the sounds of the ship. Tech was sprawled out in the copilot’s seat. He had fallen asleep mid-sentence, datapad still clutched in his hand. Omega was in her room. She had retreated early tonight, seemingly wanting to be alone with her thoughts.

Hunter wasn’t sure what he would have done if they hadn’t recovered Omega. They’d been fortunate this time, the skills that they had taught her over the last few months had saved her, as well as her wits, intelligence and bravery. Hunter wasn’t sure they’d get so lucky the next time around.

Among the sounds of the ship was a rustling that signaled Omega was awake. Hunter twisted gingerly in his seat and saw the curtain to her room twitch. She’d been meeting him in the cockpit the last couple of nights, sometimes discussing her nightmares, sometimes sitting in silence.

Hunter turned around and waited, but she didn’t join him this time. He rested his head back in the chair and closed his eyes. Low, stifled crying was coming from the gunner’s mount and Hunter’s stomach lurched. He wasn’t adept at dealing with a crying child, not like Wrecker was. He hesitated, not wanting to intrude but stood despite himself, flinching as he made his way to the curtained room.

He paused at the ladder; a large guttural sob sounded behind the curtain. He climbed a couple of steps, knocking on the side of the ship near the curtain.

“Omega?” he asked softly.

She sniffed loudly, and Hunter hesitantly pulled back the curtain to take in the small girl. She was curled up on the floor, her tookah doll Lula squeezed under her right arm, big, brown eyes swimming with tears. A yellow bruise had formed under her right eye.

“You okay, Kid?” Hunter asked, perching on the edge of the gunners mount, trying not to take up too much space. The lights Wrecker had hung for her were off but still twinkled in the dazzling display of hyperspace, the curtains not quite enough to keep the light out completely.

Omega nodded unconvincedly but didn’t elaborate and Hunter wasn’t going to pry. He knew all too well that you can feel things intensely but not be ready to discuss them. He thought of Crosshair. Some things you just can’t speak about.

Hunter took in Omega’s face in the pale blue light and tried to give her a reassuring smile.

“I can leave if you want,” he said, taking a sharp intake of breath as he maneuvered back to the steps.

“No, please stay,” she said quietly, reaching out and grasping hir forearm. Hunter nodded but didn’t think he needed to speak. He knew she was scared, and she had every right to be. Being the target of not one, but two bounty hunters was enough to make anyone lose their composure, let alone a kid who until recently had no exposure to the larger galaxy outside the sterile walls of Kamino.

They sat in silence for a while, Omega looking out of the gaps in the curtains and Hunter leaning his head against the durasteel plating, listening to Wrecker’s heavy breathing like he was a white noise machine. They were grounded in each other’s presence, a symbol that they had made it back to each other.

“Hunter?” Omega said in a small voice.

“hmm” Hunter grunted, eyes closed, read resting against the wall.

“Crosshair… he was trying to kill us. With the engine…wasn’t he?”

Hunter felt a weight drop into his stomach and rose to meet her eyes, “Omega…” he didn’t even know what to say.

“I know it’s not his fault,” she added hastily, clearly alarmed by Hunter’s reaction to her question.

“it’s not,” Hunter reiterated, “but yes, he was trying to kill us,”

“How do we get him back?” Omega said quietly.

“I don’t know, Kid.” Hunter said, his whole-body deflating. “Tech and I have gone over some plans. but we can’t just go back to Kamino. We have to keep you as far away from there as possible,” He caught himself, taking in Omega’s head hanging low, suddenly holding the weight of the galaxy. “This isn’t your fault, Omega. Even if you weren’t with us, we’d still be struggling to come up with a plan.”

“Do you miss him,” she asked.

Hunter felt his chest tighten and a rock fall into his throat. There was a gaping hole since Crosshair stayed behind…got left behind, Hunter thought bitterly. With every day of separation more damage was done, and he didn’t know who they’d be if they were eventually able to get him back. Whether he’d want to come back, even without his inhibitor chip.

Hunter gave her a curt nod.

“Then why don’t you talk about him?”

“it’s…complicated,” Hunter said sullenly.

Omega gave him a look that was reminiscent of Tech. Eyebrow raised, not buying his answer.  

Hunter sighed, not really sure how to explain it or if he could at all, “Sometimes as the leader I have to make the decisions I don’t want to make as a brother. I am responsible for all of you, your safety, your health and overall wellbeing, what choice will be the best for the group. That’s what being a leader is.” He looked at Omega, trying to see if she understood him. She nodded to continue, and he searched for the right words before doing so.

“…when we left Kamino…left Crosshair” his voice caught in his throat, “We were out of time. The bay doors were closing, the empire wanted us dead, and Wrecker was down. He’d been shot twice in two days…We had to get you to safety…I…we…I made the choice to leave Crosshair for the safety of us all. As the leader, it was the right choice. As his brother…I…it’s…I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive myself. And I know he won’t…”

Hunter closed his eyes. The weight of the last few months felt heavier than it ever had before. He felt the sting of tears in his eyes and willed them to disappear. He heard his brother’s sarcastic barbs in his head “how touching,” and felt his fury and grief burn the tears away.

“I’m sure he won’t blame you once we remove his chip,” Omega said cheerfully.

Hunter chuckled, “You don’t know Crosshair. With the exception of trying to kill us, his temperament hasn’t changed much, just the direction of his wrath.”  Hunter signed heavily, “I do miss him, though. We were sent on over sixty missions together and I never doubted for a second that he would have our back. Protect us. I’m sorry you didn’t get to meet the real him. Maybe you will someday.”

“Can you tell me about him?” Omega asked

Hunter froze, unsure what to say, how to start. He ran his hand through his hair.

“Did you know he was an artist?” he asked her after a moments pause.

“Really?” she replied excitedly.

“Yeah, he used to scribble on anything he could. Used to steal our armor paint and use scraps of fabric as canvas. He did a few of my tattoos too.”

“You have more tattoos other than that one?” She indicated to his face.

Hunter laughed for the first time in days, “yeah, I have way more than this.”

Hunter hadn’t spoken this openly about Crosshair recently, especially not to his brothers who he knew were all dealing with his loss in different ways. Omega had a magical way of making others open up to her. He’d seen it with his brothers and with strangers too.

He spoke about Crosshair reverently, in the past tense as though were lost or dead and he supposed in some way he was, lost at least. Omega laughed as he shared tales of their time as cadets, gasped as he spoke of their fears of getting decommissioned, and grinned with pride when learning how they became the famous Clone Force 99.

After some time, Omega stifled a yawn behind Lula, as Hunter finished telling her about Crosshair picking a fight with a Reg twice his size when they were cadets.

“You should get some rest,” he said quietly.

“Hunter?” Omega said as he made his way down the ladder.

“Yeah, Kid.”

“Thanks for telling me about Crosshair,” she said sweetly.

He smiled, “thanks for asking.”

He traced his way back to the cockpit, carefully eased himself into the chair and watched the lights of Hyperspace dance. The ship was silent again except for the hum of the engine, the snores of his brothers and the slow and gentle breathing of Omega.

Hunter watched the hypnotic display in front of him and missed his brother, like always.

[mynteuphoria]

So I’m gonna thinking of writing a fic for my AU, here’s a sample of what I’ve got so far, tell me whatchu think :)

Maybe I’ll include some Sonadow later on but idk

“Ready to get this started, boys?” Rouge pinched the small walkie clipped to her ear. She was on a mission for G.U.N. along with Shadow and Sonic. They were infiltrating a gala, looking for the source of the high amounts of chaos energy that had suddenly appeared on their radar.

“…You bet!” Sonic’s huffing was heard over the intercom.

“On it.” Soon came Shadow. Currently Shadow was hidden away in a dark, musky closet further away from the party. He was sitting on a stool and typing away on a laptop. He didn’t know what Sonic was up to at that moment but he was far too locked in on what he was doing to care.

That hedgehog better be useful. He growled lowly to himself. He snapped the laptop closed and dashed out of the room. Gotta find Rouge…

Footsteps echoed throughout the long corridor as the blue hedgehog ran through. Sonic needed Rouge, and fast. He had been snooping in the back rooms to see if he could find anything that indicated reason behind the high spike of chaos energy when a dragon mobian and a tall human walked in on him. Quickly, he ducked under the desk, hoping they didn’t see him. Please, let them have not seen me! He thought to himself.

The mobian was a sleek matte black, with tear-drop scales at the corners of his eyes, while the human looked to be in her late 30’s with long curly blonde hair and wore a black suit. Sonic thought her eyes had a kind feel to them but in like a super creepy way. “Rouge, I need backup…” he whispered to his radio. He dared not move further.

“So! Have you done it yet, Imperial?” The human clapped her hands together. The dark mobian shook his head and sighed. “Have you not been listening Agent S?” Huffed who Sonic thought was Imperial.

A moment of silence.

“Uhmmm… to what?” Agent S tilted her head to the side. Imperial snorted at this, “I don’t even know how you can be this stupid and still be one of our top agents.” Imperial turned towards the desk Sonic was under. “it doesn’t matter, we still have what we came for.” Suddenly and very forcefully, Sonic flew up and was thrown at the door. But he didn’t slide down to the ground. Actually, he couldn’t move. He was completely paralyzed and pinned to the door. Imperial smirked. “This is the one, yes?”

The lady only nodded, her eyes full of shock. Imperials smirk only widened at this as he peered down at Sonic. “Well then, better pay Sonic the Hedgehog your goodbyes then.”

Little did they know, as Imperial grabbed Sonic and threw him into what looked like a tear in reality, Rouge had seen the entire thing, up in the vent above. She knew she should have gone down there and fought back but she couldn’t, just everything about Imperial was… wrong… and horrible. As they were leaving the room she suddenly found the strength to show herself and fight, she flung herself right at Imperial twisting in the air to give him a good kick when she was suddenly grabbed by the tip of her wing and thrown across the room.

Riiiiiiiiip.

Pain exploded in her left wing, she tried to stand but found that a force was keeping her pinned as well.

“Looks like we’ve got a rat” Agent S chuckled, in her pompous way. Rouge gritted her teeth together. “Mhm… if we get rid of anymore it would look suspicious”

“So then do your thing, mister wonder pants!” Agent S cheered like a child.

“It seems as though I have to…” Imperial sighed, “I enchanted this bat to forget about Agent S and my own involvement with tonight.” Imperial tapped Rouge’s forehead and everything went black.

[breannasfluff]

“Ahki, you must come in.”

“Damian, you need to attend your lesson.” The teacher is annoyed at the interruption so soon after they started.

Damian throws him an imperious look. “Mother said Ahki is to join me in the lessons. He does not know to come in yet.” Then he turns back to his brother, reaching out and catching his sleeve to pull him in.

Jason goes, eyes darting around the space. He never joins Damian’s private lessons and changes in schedule can confuse him. Damian doesn’t mind, just guides him to a seat on the floor and pushes extra paper and a pencil to him. His teacher won’t provide another workbook, but that’s okay.

“Are you done?” comes the testy question.

“Yes, Teacher. Please, continue.”

The next hour is focused on letters and words, trying to keep them between the lines and neat enough to read. It’s not until the end of class when the teacher leaves that Damian dares to turn around and check on his brother.

“Ahki?” He scoots over to look at Jason’s paper. There’s a symbol on it, wobbly from lack of practice. Damian taps it and looks up. “What is it?”

“Bat,” Jason says and frowns down at it. Then he growls, swiping it up and crumpling it into a ball.

Damian firms his lips to keep from saying anything; he wanted to keep Ahki’s drawing. Not if it makes him unhappy, though.

“Let’s draw something else,” he says, and hands Jason the pencil again. He pulls his own paper next to him and hums, looking at the blank page. “Fox!”

Ahki watches as Damian does his best to simplify the animal. A circle face, two large, pricked ears, and small eyes. Then he frowns because it doesn’t look right. 

Jason focuses on his own paper, drawing even slower. His grip on the pencil is more of a fist and Damian snags his hand to adjust it, before lowering the pencil back to paper. When Jason gets to the ears, he makes them smaller and wider-set than Damian did. Then he taps them.

“Like Azizi, small.”

“I’m not small!” But Damian is smiling, so maybe it’s true. He uses the eraser to take off the ears on his drawing and adds smaller ones like Ahki. That looks better. 

This time, Ahki doesn’t crumble the drawing and Damian gently slides it on top of his own. He’ll put them up in their room, or maybe inside one of the chests to keep them safe.

“Come on, Ahki, let’s go.”

Read the rest here

[mydearlybeloathed]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: ezra just can't figure out why you hate him so much.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: ghost crew x f!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.7k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: requested, mentioned enslavement, reader is kinda mean, no use of Y/N

Now, Ezra wasn’t one to jump to conclusions, but what other conclusion was there? 

You had to hate his guts. You refused to look at him and you wouldn’t talk to him, not to mention the glare you weren’t at all trying to hide. Sabine told him to not worry about it, that you would open up on your own time. Somehow, Ezra doubted that.

Hera told him something similar about giving you time, and he understood why; it’d only been a week since your grand and harrowing rescue from the clutches of the Hutts (the crew had yet to tell him why you needed rescuing in the first place).

A few months into joining the crew, it became clear that someone was missing. Sabine’s room held the belongings of another, another person’s blanket and pillow situated on the bottom bunk. An utterance of a stranger’s name was sometimes whispered, accompanied by shadowed looks and a tense silence.

When he got up the nerve to ask, Hera had pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “There’s a reason you’re Spectre 7, not 6. Six is… somewhere.”

“How do we find them?”

Hera hadn’t given an answer, simply letting out a sigh and turning to go back to her tasks.

So the mystery of Spectre 6 lived on, remnants of this girl coming to him in pieces. Little jokes here and there about how Six would yell about this or how she would laugh at that. Ezra started to piece together an image of this girl in his head, imagining a smiling figure with fuzzy features, doing flips and handstands across his mind.

“If only Six was here,” Zeb commented into his comlink as he and Ezra balanced across a skinny support beam. “Little acrobat would come in handy.”

Kanan and Sabine stayed up at odd hours of the night when they weren’t aware Ezra was watching from around the corner, mumbling to themselves as they scoured databases for clues as to where the lost Spectre had gone.

“Bingo,” Sabine grinned, frantically tapping Kanan’s arm. “The mercenaries that took her are from Corellia.”

Kanan set a hand on her shoulder. Hope flashed in his eyes. “Good work. We’ll get her back soon.”

Whoever she was, she sure meant a lot to the crew. So much so that he started to grow bitter at whatever had taken her away—Ezra started to want her back just as much as the rest of them.

And so naturally, when Vizago crawled out whatever hole he dwelled in to drop off a message from the Hutts, Ezra was a rapt listener—it went something along the lines of, “Take back your sewer rat… for five thousand Imperial credits.”

“We don’t have that money,” said Sabine, her voice a new dangerous low. Her eyes lasered in on the table before her as a sense of fury rose within the common.

Zeb scoffed, his fists curling. “Why weren’t the Hutts out first guess? Of course they wanted her back.”

“Why?” Ezra asked without thinking. 

While Zeb’s eyes flashed darkly, Kana answered offhandedly, “Back before we found her, she worked for them—the Hutts—she was their prize weapon.”

“We got her out,” Hera said softly. “But a few weeks before you got here… she went out on a solo mission.” She hugged herself. “I shouldn’t have let her go.”

“She would’ve gone whether you let her or not,” Sabine quipped. “That’s how she is.”

Ezra stepped forward and set his hands on the table everyone gathered around, his eyes raising to assess his friends. “Let’s stop talking about it and make a plan. She can’t be safe there.”

The rescue mission itself was near flawless; Kanan and Hera went forward with a crate “full of credits.” Plot twist: there were no credits. Coming in behind them, Sabine and Chopper infiltrated the lower kitchens of the Hutts’ headquarters, taking out a few droids and taking one prisoner. With a few gentle threats, Sabine sent word to Zeb and Ezra exactly where Spectre 6 was being held. 

That was where the plan went awry; while Zeb was held back by a wary yet naive droid, Ezra slipped past unnoticed, casting Zeb a wave as he dove around a corner and headed deeper into the fortress. 

Finding the cell wasn’t much of a problem, nor was getting the door open—the problem at hand was getting you out of the cell.

You were curled into a shadowed corner like some kind of alley cat, eyes lifting to gaze upon him with nothing but contempt. From the moment he saw you, he had the sense you disliked his very being.

Somehow—he still wonders how—he managed to convince you he was with the Ghost crew, luring you out of the cell and leading you to where the others had started up a racket after getting caught with no payment. The final escape was slim, and your hair was singed from a too-close blaster fire.

Ezra noticed, eyes wide as he moved to swat at the slowly rising smoke. “Are you okay?”

You swatted him away, glare ready and waiting. “Fine.” And you disappeared, rushing deep into the ship with a frazzled Hera on your tail.

His every attempt at communication after was met with backlash. You really did seem like a cat in his mind, all hissy and skittish. 

“Be patient,” is what everyone told him, but really, it was getting out of hand. After three months of your return, you had yet to drop your hatred, and it was starting to interfere in missions. 

Just last week he’d been about to make a shot that would have saved time concerning a quick escape when you completely ignored his presence and tripped him. 

“Sorry,” you’d said, not sounding very sorry at all.

That wasn’t the end of it either.

“Do you need something?”

“Go be useful, if you can.”

“Could you be more amazingly purposeless here?”

Ezra had to give it to you, you certainly had a knack for tearing down a guy’s self-esteem. Each insult seemed to roll off your tongue so easily that Ezra came to correlate your voice with a bad day.

You could not possibly have made Ezra feel more unwelcome, despite everyone’s assurances that you’d warm up eventually. Ezra started to question the crew’s definition of eventually. He really hoped you would start to like him soon, because you were quite possibly one fo the coolest people he’d ever seen.

When you weren’t actively making his life difficult, you were training day in and day out, practicing acrobatics atop the Ghost. Not to mention, if he and Kanan didn’t have some sixth sense thanks to the Force, your movements would be deadly silent. You moved like a specter, like your feet never even touched the ground. 

Today was like most days in accordance with you; you ignored his existence save for the occasional backlash whenever he stepped into your vicinity, and Ezra was left to wonder after the dark and nearly forlorn look constantly trapped in your eyes (he always tried to despise you, like he could easily despise Zeb at times, but there was something in how lost you looked that stopped him).

Though, today was different. Every once in a while you took to the habit of taking his beloved helmet for reasons only the stars could know. On these days he could scour the Ghost to find you lazing about like a cat, donning his helmet as you stared at the expanse of sky from the gunner. 

So he immediately set out for the gunner of the ship, already preparing his quippy remark, only to falter when you were nowhere in sight. Ezra squinted at the vacant seat, zeroing in on the dual beskar knives safely in their sheathes. Beskar, he awed for the umpteenth time. He’d asked after them too many times to count, only receiving one answer from Sabine: “We used to have similar lines of work. She was very skilled at hers. That came with perks.”

And the mystery of you expanded, as it always did.

“Hey.” Ezra looked into the dimness of your and Sabine’s room, finding the latter at her desk fiddling with her recently damaged blaster. “You seen Six?”

“Why?” She sighed as her blaster sparked up again. “You gonna start problems?”

“Okay, one, I never start anything with her. Two, I just want my helmet back.”

Sabine threw her blaster down, frustrated. “Haven’t seen her today. You checked the gunner?”

“Three times, just in case she was hiding.” That got a laugh from Sabine, who shifted to stand and stretch. 

“Then I dunno how to help you, kid. She’s gotta be somewhere.”

That would have been fine advice, if for the rest of the day Ezra didn’t continue searching the recesses of the ship, his intent slowly shifting from demanding back his helmet to just making sure you’re still alive. 

Ezra burst into the common room around the time the whole crew was gathering to grab something to eat at the end of the day, his hands planted on either side of the door as he said with a sudden urgency. “Has anyone seen Six?”

Sabine had the nerve to roll her eyes. “Again with the helmet? She’ll give it back—”

“Has anyone seen her?” Ezra cut in to demand once more, scanning his eyes across the room. “Think.”

Only a moment passed before the others started to furrow their brows and shift around. Hera glanced up at Ezra. “Not since this morning.”

A murmur of agreement ran through the crew. No one had seen her all day, neither had they heard her voice from across the ship, shouting about something or other that someone had done wrong.

Thus, the manhunt began, but even when everyone was shouting your name throughout the ship, there was no response. Lothal’s moons had already risen about halfway into the sky. Creatures started to come out at this hour, varying from the wild things to troopers. 

You were out on the Lothal plains after dark, without your knives, and Ezra suddenly forgot every wrong you’d done against him. You were a pain in his ass, but if you were gone, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. 

Setting out was the easy part, Hera and Chopper staying behind to watch the Ghost whilst the others rushed into the night, armed with their weapon of choice. Ezra took one of the stolen speeders stowed away in the hold, swinging a leg over and taking off across the plains as Sabine took the second speeder in the other direction. 

Ezra tried to ignore the wind hitting his face and focused solely on the hum of the speeder, the sway of the tall grasses, and the sudden and faint flutter of a heartbeat somewhere in the distance. Over the course of his training with Kanan, Ezra took to secretly memorizing the sound of your spirit, not wanting to be on the receiving end of your notorious sneak attacks. 

Practically shutting off everything other sense, he leaned to the right, following the ringing of your heart and soul deeper into the plains. The grasses grew taller here, unhindered by farming, and rocks stretched high into the sky, forming a sort of labyrinth between them. He weaved the speeder in and out of several stone mountains, sensing the ring growing closer. 

The ground elevated into a slope as the rocks fell away to reveal dusty ground, and Ezra took a left at the very last large mountain. It opened up to a bluff overlooking the East. Ezra slowed the speeder to a light rev, the ringing now a strong buzz, and your heart a steady beat in his head. 

You were here, that was for sure. 

Cutting the ignition, Ezra stepped off the speeder and sauntered forward, eyes scanning the area. Just when the buzz and ring of the force grew too much, Ezra caught a movement ahead of him, and the sounds all fell away. A figure was sprawled out on the grass, shifting every few seconds like they couldn’t get comfortable.

Then the figure sighed, and Ezra confirmed it was you (he’d heard that agitated sound enough times to know it as yours). 

Ezra should have learned by now to proceed with extreme caution, but he had always been a stubborn learner, so he trudged through the grass uncaring of the crunching underfoot. You lurched upward like a frightened animal, eyes locked on him in her instant. Ezra instantly drew a mental image of a loth cat, hackles risen and fangs bared. The likeness was uncanny.

“What’re you doing here?” You sat back slowly, examining him carefully.

He nearly scoffed. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Blinking blankly, you turned and plopped down on the grass, facing the plains. He stood for an awkward few moments before you snapped, “I’m fine. You can go.”

“Yeah, right.” He plopped down in the dirt beside you, a generous berth between you. “You scared the kark out of everyone.”

Your answer was instantaneous. “Why?”

Ezra paused, thought some, looked at you, and spat the awkward words out. “We care about you.”

You waited for the blow, the butt of the joke, but it never came, and you were left awkwardly staring at his profile. “Oh.”

“Is that a surprise?” he wondered.

“No,” you shook your head. “Not for the others…”

Ezra rolled his eyes and leaned back on his hands, unable to take it any longer. “Can I ask you something? Why do you hate me so much?”

You blinked as if the question shocked you, and wasn’t at all valid. “What? I don’t hate you.”

“Coulda fooled me,” he scoffed. You huffed and turned away, crossing your arms over your knees. 

“Well, I don’t. You’re just…”

“Just what?”

Pursing your lips, your eyes darted back to meet his, brows furrowed. “Annoying.”

Ezra met your gaze back with a mirrored intensity. “And you’re rude.”

“I wouldn’t be if you’d leave me alone.”

“We’re on this crew together!” he snapped. “I physically cannot ignore you. So, if you could get over whatever grudge you have against me, that’d be great!”

“Don’t—” You got a grip on your emotions, averting your attention to the sky. In a softer tone, you warned, “Don’t yell at me.”

Taken aback, Ezra gave you an odd look, shifting to catch your eye. You just shifted further away from him, grunting something under your breath. You’d always been so haunted and withdrawn. No one would ever tell him why.

It couldn’t hurt to ask.

“Are you…” He hesitated, waiting till you cast him a glance. “Are you okay? Why were you with the Hutts? And what does it have to do with bounty hunters? Why—”

You sneered as your hand clamped down on his mouth, nearly knocking him backward. Holding his eyes in a glare, you huffed. “Just shut up, okay? You ask too many questions.” You plopped back down and retracted your hand. “Annoying, like I said.”

“I want to help you.”

“Did I ask?”

The silence was thick, broken only by the chirping of bugs in the tall stalks all around. You ran a hand over your face, almost trying to hide, before sighing and glaring at the sky. “Whatever… I used to be something of a bounty hunter. A weapon, more like.”

Ezra felt like that should have been obvious, and did his best to hold back his questions as you shifted uncomfortably. “Some bad people with the Guild found me as a kid, when I was just some nobody doing acrobat tricks for money. They thought I had potential, so they just… took me. Didn’t really matter. It was better than the streets, I guess.”

Tugging at your hair, you gave a little shrug. “They taught me a lot about killing and stealing and what-not. Long story short, I was sold to the Hutts like this shiny new assassin toy.” You pumped a fist. “Yay.”

He felt a little bad for grinning, sniffing as he nodded. “Then what? You got here somehow.”

“I’m getting there,” you gritted. You tried to look pissed, but couldn’t hold back a slight grin. “Sabine found me, like, a year before they found you. She was on a mission, and I tried to pick-pocket her. She chased me a mile around the city before she caught me.  A shorter story short, the crew helped me escape the Hutts, and the rest is history.”

One thing still didn’t add up. “How’d the Hutts get you back?”

“Oh, uhm… they caught me.” There is was again; haunted, a shadow crossing your eyes as memories played up in your head. “I, uh, didn’t think the crew would come after me, to be honest. I kinda resigned myself to a life trapped on Tatooine.” 

You caught his eye. “Then you showed up and broke me out.”

“Was that such a surprise?”

“Maybe. I mean,” you murmured whilst playing with the grass. “It didn’t take too long for them to replace me, did it?”

And suddenly, it all fell perfectly into place. All the hatred and coldness, the malice and contempt… you thought they’d replaced you. Really? Ezra coudln’t stop the laugh bubbling out of his chest, not even when you shot him a deathly glower.

“What’s so funny?”

“You just—What?” Ezra shifted ot his knees, beaming down at you as he shook his head. “They never replaced you. All I ever heard when I joined was about this mysterious crewmate they’d lost.” He flicked your forehead. “If they replaced you, then why’re you still Spectre 6 and I’m Spectre 7?”

You started to snap back only to stop short, gaping like a fish as you grasped for some kind of defense. You couldn’t find one, apparently, and promptly snapped your mouth shut. 

“I never thought of that,” you muttered at last.

No duh. Ezra barely held back a roll of his eyes. “Think about it then.”

You did (he could tell form your thoughtful sneer) and you slowly raised your gaze to look at him again. The haunting was still there, but your eyes were softer than they’d ever been when laid upon him. “I’m… sorry.” The way your face scrunched up amde it seem like ti was painful to say, your monotone going on, “The way I’ve treated you hasn’t been fair.”

“Thanks,” he said with a gentle nod, and an awkwardness settled around the pair of you. “So… wanna head back?”

Instantly you shook you head, returning your attention to the sky. “Not yet. Wanna watch the stars.”

He noticed your lack of jacket just as he shivered. “You’ve gotta be cold.”

“Eh,” you shrugged. “I’m fine. You can head back if you want.”

Ezra didn’t move an inch. All he could think wa sthat maybe, he was finally going to get to know the Six the crew knew. The one who laughed freely and pulled tricks. The one that played hide and seek with Kanan and was always so frustrated when he cheated and used to force to find you. 

So he stayed right where he was, lazing back on the grass to have a better view of the sky. “Nah. I’ll stay.”

You cast him a short glance as you laid back as well. “Okay…”

Only an hour later, when you’d fallen asleep and punched Ezra when he tried to wake you (“I’m sorry!” “Yeah, yeah.”), did you and Ezra head back to the Ghost. You kept falling asleep on him, forcing him to use one hand to steer the speeder and the other to keep you hands around his middle. 

Relief coursed through him when he caught sight of the ship, warm light flowing from the open hatch, a few silhouetted figures pacing back and forth. He pulled the speeder to a stop and leg you go, sighing even as you slid off and hit the ground with a thud.

Probably not the best choice, especially not when Hera bolted from where she sat and rushed to your side. “What happened? It she all right?” She glared up from the ground. “Ezra!” 

He raised his hands in surrender, trying to defend himself, when you groaned and blinked blearily around. “Why am I on the ground…?”

Hera gripped your shoulder and held your face in her palm, startling you. “Are you okay?”

You nodded hesitantly and tried not to seem too content with the soft touches. “Yeah? I was just asleep.”

Harsh footsteps echoed form the ship and out stomped Zeb moments later, rough around the edges per usual. “Where’ve you been!?”

“Uhm, out?” you replied, brows vaulted as Sabine rushed out beyond him. The whole crew stood around, all looking a mix of relieved and pissed. “I was just up on the bluffs…”

Hera let out a sigh and allowed you to sit up on your own. “And that’s fine, but you should tell someone before you disappear all afternoon.”

“I didn’t think it mattered that much.” You shifted around and stood to your feet, crossing your arms over your chest. 

No one really said anything, only exchanged odd glances, until Hera blinked quickly and set a hand on your shoulder. “You look cold. Come on.”

She made to guide you inside when you suddenly stopped, turned to Ezra, and grinned tightly. “You’re… not so bad.”

And with that, Hera dragged you into the warmth fo the Ghost, leaving behind you a fairly confused crew. All eyes fell to Ezra as he smirked and gave a simple shrug. Sabine offered up a smile of her own before she snapped and pointed at the boy. “Oh, you were looking for your helmet right?”

He’d completely forgotten. “Oh, yeah.”

She passed a hand over his hair, ruffling it up. “It’s under your desk, idiot.”

Ezra huffed, hiding the flush in his cheeks as he muttered under his breath, following after Zeb and Sabine as they headed inside the ship. The hatch rose up behind them and hissed shut just as Kanan came up beside Ezra, one brow raised. 

“So you two are friends now?”

He rolled his eyes at that. “I think so? She’s very cryptic. But, I don’t think she hates me.”

Kanan laughed. “That’s a start, I suppose.”

Ezra had to agree. 

And as time would pass, and your walls slowly tore down to reveal a human so bright and radiant, both you and Ezra nearly forgot all about the days you’d come close to murdering him. 

[lilacprose]

𝚖𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍 // 𝚖𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 | 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚑 𝚟𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

summary; Darth Vader arrives to a rainy planet in search of Jedi knights. The hunt does not go as swiftly as he hopes and instead becomes haunted by old ghosts and shadows. word count; 2,573 words a/n; Originally posted on ao3, but decided to post it on Tumblr as well. Hope the crowd likes it! content includes; Intense fight scenes, anxiety/panic attacks.

misc; read on ao3 • fic trailer • fic gifet • askbox

I am what remains

Darth Vader’s steps leave a trail of lifeless bodies. This place was a wasteland of a planet that seemed to have rain as its inner core. Mist fogs up his field of vision, and rain droplets tap his helmet. The crescent moon casts a marine shade over him as he treads through humid, foggy terrain. Just merely minutes before, he wiped out an entire village of Jedi hiding in tents and covering themselves from the rain. Jedi campfires flickered in the distance. They took no notice of the Imperial ships that deftly touched ground or when a sudden gust of wind snuffed out their only source of light. He had stood so close to them for a fleeting moment, listening to their breaths and their whispers. It was the wind; it was the rain; it was nothing. There was nothing to worry about—until he activated the breathing mechanism, and they all screamed in darkness. With his lightsaber ignited, he slaughtered every one of them as a sea of stormtroopers emerged from their hiding places and joined him. Fire strobed in the night, flashes of red going through body after body of man, woman, and child. They didn’t stop until the last severed limb fell to the ground. Stormtroopers split up to look for other scattered Jedi. He would usually let them do the rest. He had done what he was made to do. His mere presence on the planet was enough. Word will spread that the Empire is here. They will all try to run, but soon learn that it is useless. Years have gone by, star systems have been overruled until nothing but cataclysmic rubble remained. There is a mark in the universe in the shape of his silhouette, and the sound of his breath resonates in the black emptiness of the galaxy. The legend of the dark lord has come to be more terrifying than the man. He is the name that breathes in fear and exhales demise. Just as it does now. Always has and always will. Here, in the rain, on a planet left to be barren by his cybernetic hand. 

His heart pounds in his chest still. It was something he noticed happening more regularly. Fatigue becoming a more frequent occurrence. A racing heart, a heavier head, and a blinding field of vision. He can feel the aging of the body now more than ever. But he can never allow himself to admit that. He raises his chin to gaze higher over the horizon before him so that those thoughts may never reach his head. He listens for the troopers in the distance, blasters firing off. His heart rate starts to slow down, following the steady rhythm of his breathing mechanism. It is the only constant he finds himself leaning on after all these years. The machine grounds him. It is a ticking metronome that keeps him in line with where he needs to go. Always looking forward, never back. A consistent march onwards, onwards, onwards—

Crack. 

He halts. Scans the surroundings. Turns around slowly. Somebody is watching, and he knows it, but the data inside his helmet shows no form of life before him. A presence, a crack, in the force. He grazes the top of his lightsaber on his belt and looks behind him. Between trees, far into the horizon where illuminated clouds meet the soil. 

A hooded cloak. 

A man. 

One of them. 

He grunts and turns around. The black cloak floats in the air as Vader rushes toward him. His towering stature leaves no room for stealth. Not that stealth is of any priority now. He wants the person to see his helmet reflect the moonlight. He wants to be seen . He wants them to be afraid . They will all know that Darth Vader is coming once they see that sliver of red in the darkness. And he will come forth with no hesitation or mercy. 

He’s not far now. The cloak is there, swaying in the distance.

Are you what remains? 

His cloak is there, swaying in the distance.

The wind gushes and howls. Or perhaps it is the machine keeping him alive that he hears. He’s not sure and can’t be bothered to tell. The two sounds merge into a long, sustained pulse that rings in his ears. He sees the blue moon reflect in his helmet. He knows that wherever he goes, Vader’s black armored shadow will follow him. Sometimes he stops and doesn’t move – not a single muscle, without a twitch to be seen on his shadowed face – just to taunt him. He stands there, only a few heavy steps away, the hood of his dark robes pulled over his head. Waiting, listening, observing. He knows it will drive Vader to the precipice of madness, charge him to attack. The mechanical breathing grows louder as Vader marches towards him. He crosses his arms, closes his eyes, and reaches into the Force, but he doesn’t have to. Because it doesn’t take a cosmic force for him to know the excruciating pain Vader is in. Each heavy step digs the steel prosthetics deeper and deeper into the charred flesh. There is a dark field surrounding Vader as he moves. Thick and black, like the fuel for a Star Destroyer. He feels it all. The pain, the hurt, the ever-darkening rage. Reflected in his own bones. Remnants of Mustafar. 

Obsidian riverbanks flash before his eyes, and for a brief second, his lungs fill with volcanic ash, only to be replaced by the earthy scent of rain just as fast. He tilts his head as he looks at Vader who has stopped yet again. He looks around him as if something were to appear at any given moment.

Not just yet.

There is something that echoes between the trees. Echoes interspersed with the high-pitched noise in his ears. Repeating over and over as Vader starts to walk away from him. The ringing starts to take shape and reverberates in his mind: 

Anakin, Anakin, Anakin.  Died with the birth of Vader.  Left here is only Vader.  

If he could he would let out a laugh that would startle the machine. 

But he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a quick turn behind a tree, hears how Vader halts, and frantically searches for him. He moves with the grace of a phantom and walks so lightly that no sound is made. 

He’s behind him now. Vader’s gloved cybernetics tightly grasp the base of his lightsaber. Glowing red and aiming at air. Vader’s shoulders heave in frustration. He begins to see his own hooded reflection in the back of the helmet the closer he gets to Vader. The scar over his eye burns. A sensation deep in the pit of his stomach. For a second, he doesn’t realize what it is. It’s the wind; it’s the machine; it’s a voice. Something slithers up his leg as it whispers to him. He throws a glance at his leg, seeing nothing but hearing a voice he can’t tell from Vader’s or his own.

Anakin, Anakin, Anakin.

He glances back at his reflection in the helmet, and it dawns on him that it’s the shadow of the dragon that he hears. Crawling up Vader’s arm, digging its claws into his lungs, huffing old words back to his covered ears—

Suddenly, Vader turns around. The red blade points at his neck. 

He chuckles.

I will destroy you!

The lightsaber is lifted to the Jedi’s neck, but he doesn’t move. Only a chuckle escapes him. The blade casts a light on his lower face. The man stands before death, yet he is unfazed. His lips don't tremble like the others. Vader moves the blade closer. He reaches deep into the Force to see who the man before him is, but feels only the complete absence of light within him. This isn’t the light energy of the Jedi. It is something far darker. 

Still not flinching, the other senses what Vader is doing. He, too, reaches into the depths of the Force. Vader feels his parasitical presence inside his mind. A single image is placed in his central vision.

Padmé.

Vader yells and strikes a blow at him with his lightsaber. The other responds just as fast. His blade emits an eerily familiar shade of maroon. Vader's breath is heavy; the other’s lips are sealed tightly, and his breathing is controlled, almost like he isn't breathing at all. They stand still in mirrored positions. Lightsabers raised and touching, with red sparks falling like the mist around them.

At the same time, they slowly lower their weapons. 

Vader keeps a close eye on the other’s hands; the still-ignited blade points towards the ground as his hands move to take down the hood. He drops his cloak on the ground. Rain droplets hitting dark leather sound between his own breaths. There is no other movement, not a flinch—only a mere coldness in his gaze and the traces of a scar across one eye. The longer Vader looks, the more he notices how his eyes slowly turn a deep red. 

Still, the other made no movement, as if the rain had frozen him. A furrow grows behind the mask. Surely this is a trick. It must be the fatigue. Imagination. Vader has not seen those robes since...

Since they burned with him. 

His hand does something it never does. He trembles, trembles, trembles as the other person slowly starts to walk, forcing him to step back. 

And Vader sees it now. 

Anakin before him.

You lack conviction

Anakin raises his lightsaber, and the sword clashes with Vader’s. Two maroon blades of equal speed light up the blue night. 

Anakin, Anakin, Anakin.

With one hand, Vader strikes Anakin down. Whoever is doing this to him will not have the upper hand. Vader is much stronger than any man; a dead one is nothing to him. A few strikes, and he can already feel his opponent weaken before him. Vader will destroy him.

But with the push of the force, Vader is suddenly thrust several feet back. Wet soil drags between gloved metal fingers. He breathes in as he rises and shrugs his shoulders as he exhales. Runs towards Anakin with a yell and his saber held high in the air.

Anakin’s arm is still extended as he watches Vader get up from the ground. A subconscious flick of the wrist spins the lightsaber in his cybernetic hand. It spins behind his back and in front of him, before it violently crashes into Vader’s. Anakin hammers at Vader’s lightsaber with heavy blows enough to separate cybernetics from flesh. Again and again. Vader fights back–oh, how hard he is trying. He towers over Anakin like he’s already won, but his body is a statue crumbling before him. Every red blow weakens him, sends him closer and closer to the ground.

The base of his lightsaber is grasped tightly with both hands above his helmet.

Vader falls to his knees. 

And two lightsabers lower.

Anakin raises his chin and looks down at Vader. Through gritted teeth, he tells him to get up. The grip on Vader’s lightsaber loosens in his hand. He asks him again, but not as quietly as before. He yells with a thunderous tone that shakes the trees around them. 

Without hesitation, without mercy, the lightsaber swings and aims for the helmet.

Vader pulls the lightsaber in front of him before Anakin can hit him. It takes too much strength to hold Anakin back. Anakin is dead, Vader chants himself, so why has he now dropped to his knees? Why is he unable to move? Why has the lightsaber nearly fallen out of his hands when it has never done so before? Never in front of the thousands, millions of opponents that had faced him. 

It takes a ghost, a shadow swinging his blood-red lightsaber for Vader to lose his balance. A black shadow with the voice of a dead man. Burned to coal by the fires of Mustafar. 

But he is here. 

He is here now with a body untouched by fire. He sees the faces of a man and a child with age lines and battle scars. A river’s reflection of who he used to be, of who he is, of who he isn’t. Of who he was supposed to be had fire not consumed him.

Anakin, Anakin, Anakin.

Anakin never tires. He keeps his eye on the helmet. Harder, harder. The field of vision becomes broken and black edges form. The suit starts to fail him, bit by bit things start cracking. The metals and the obsidian made to protect him are faulting. His heart races, and the armor adjusts to it in vain. Hot flashes throughout his body and a single horrifying thought takes over his mind. 

The suit can’t keep him alive any longer. 

With a kick in the stomach, Anakin sends Vader to the ground. Crackling sparks emit from his chest plate. The green and red lights flicker. The breathing mechanism fractured. He lies on his back, his helmet cracked. Body paralyzed. Vader struggles to breathe. His heart pounds in his chest. And there is nothing but quiet. No stormtroopers. No blasters. No wind or rain or rustling trees. The silence sends him spiralling as slow footsteps approach his side. Lightsaber humming; lifting, lifting, lifting above his head. Darkness fills his vision. Only the line of the lightsaber illuminates the void. He shakes his head and all that comes out of him is a panicked no. Over again. No, no, no. This isn’t happening to him. Not to him, not by him.

Anakin, Anakin, Anakin.

Here now, here to end him—

Remains

His eyes flash open. He regulates his breathing. Tries to. Still fractured. Still paralyzed and unable to rise. Where is he now? His field of vision is a haze, unable to make out anything in the room or place he is in. Is this a hallucination inside the Bacta tank, a trick of the water making him see things? Or is he lying there, on a stretcher surrounded by surgical instruments attaching metal to bare flesh. It must be. It hurts . He flinches in an attempt to move away from the needles that sew him together. 

He wants out.

He wants away.

He wants to die.

Then – a sudden touch on his knee. A placed hand. He fails to make out a face in the darkness inside the helmet. But the hand, he recognizes. The hand that was once placed on his shoulder. After battle, in assurance.

“It’s all right, Anakin. Breathe. You’re safe now, my friend.”

The voice. It breaks him. The voice crashes over him, and he just... Can't . Can't stop the rapid flow of air through his lungs. Whatever remains of his vocal chords he had became shattered in screams that cut him up inside like crushed glass. And it’s the last thing he feels. Before the tears join the water that submerge him. Water that has him drowning in anaesthesia along with the memories of future and past. Nothing else matters but the present and where he's going. 

There he’ll awake, with a clear mind and clear direction. Black cloak drifting over his empire. This is what he wants. 

There he’ll stand, atop manmade planets surrounded by explosions of stardust. Breathing in power, exhaling out fear.

Mechanical mind, mechanical body.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Cause of Action 3

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: thank you for waiting! Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

Mr. Barber –Andy– pulls into a spot along a street you recognise. You won’t voice why you find it familiar, that’s probably better left unsaid. Your nightlife is hardly relevant to a law office.

You get out and wait as he pays the parking pass kiosk and puts the slip in his windshield. He looks at his watch again. His apparent anxiety is adding to your own. You walk with him up the pavement and hesitate as he turns to cross. Oh, it can’t be.

You look up at the club’s marquee and repress any twitch of guilt. Of course you’d been there before, a couple times with friends, but you’re really not big on the scene. Still, you wonder what he would think.

It’s early. Door’s have yet to open but it doesn’t hinder him from walking along the brick front of the building and knocking on the double doors. You chew your lip. Your brain isn’t processing this properly. You have no idea what’s going on.

Andy looks at you and gives a rocky chuckle as he rubs the back of his neck, “client is a friend of the owner.”

“Ah,” you give a short nod.

“Not really our typical meeting place but he’s hard to pin down,” Andy explains, “we shouldn’t be long.”

The door opens and you’re greeted by a man with an imperious curl to his lips. Sleek black hair  combed back so the spiraled ends cluster behind his ears. Andy gives a tilt of his head.

“Uh, Laufeyson,” he points at him unsure, “I’m here for Hansen?”

“Ah, yes,” the man, Laufeyson lets out a long exhale, “I should charge him rent with how often he frequents. Come.”

He steps back and Andy catches the door, holding it for you until you precede him inside. The dark-haired man considers you with an air of discernment. You squirm as you glance around. This place looks a lot different with the lights on.

“Oh, this is my intern,” Andy supplies, “showing her the reins.”

“Hi,” you greet and offer your name. The man doesn’t acknowledge you.

“This is Loki, he owns the place.”

“Doors in an hour,” Laufeyson intones dismissively as he turns on his heel, “I’m certain you’ll find your way.”

Andy sniffs but says nothing. It isn’t until Loki is halfway up the stairs that he even moves. Andy shifts into motion, gesturing you into the main room of the club. He halts and looks around before pointing out another staircase; that one twisting and metal.

“I think it’s just up there,” he says as he continues forward and you scurry to keep up.

“So, uh, what kind of case exactly is this for?” You wonder as he stops at the bottom of the stairs and again waits for you to go first.

“Standard lawsuit. Employment contract breach. Hopefully, we can keep it to a deposition.”

“Mmm,” you hum thoughtfully, “is this the employee?”

“Employer,” Andy tuts, “burden of proof really isn’t on us, so there’s that.”

“Right,” you don’t head down the hall until Andy directs you onward to the door with a golden snake on it, “if he’s doing business here…”

You let the thought drift. It’s not really your place to say.

“You’re not wrong,” Andy says, “I’ve heard wild stories about this place.” He reaches past you and taps on the door with his knuckles, “an ex of mine, she apparently came here, liked to hook up with strange men…”

“Oh?” You blink but add no comment.

“Meanwhile, when I was married, my wife accused me of coming to places like this while I was working overtime to pay the mortgage,” he scoffs, “well, I guess that’s not important. Sorry. Just… this is weird.”

“A little,” you agree as his vocalisation of the fact eases the tension.

The door opens and you’re met by a man with a rather bristly accoutrement across his lip. You almost snort at the mustache but think better of it. It wouldn’t do well to mock this man’s fashion sense. He is a client after all and despite the venue, this is still a professional meeting.

“Barber,” the man greets as he leers down at you, giving a wink, “you brought some fun?”

“Hansen,” Andy growls back, a silty tone that makes you shiver, “my intern. Play nice.”

“Ah, I’m always nice,” he smooths a hand over his hair before offering it, “how are you, sunshine? Lloyd.”

“Um,” you reluctantly shake his hand and give your name, “I’m fine.”

“Fine, well, let’s fix that, come in,” he backs up and turns, strutting away in his tight white pants and shimmery satin shirt. He isn’t really dressed for business. “Barber, you hound, you finally got me. You better make it fast.”

He grabs a bottle and pops the top, “you know, I have a long night ahead of me.”

“I told you I had noon free–”

“Noon? I was still waking the snake–”

“Hey, cut it out,” Andy warns.

“Sorry, sorry,” Lloyd looks at you with a smirk, “she looks old enough–”

“She’s not here for that. So let’s get to it. I need the records of employment. What you sent me is a cocktail napkin and a snapchat conversation. That’s not gonna cut it.”

“Oh really? Like I said, it wasn’t really a contract. Not in the way she’s saying. Bimbo,” he scoffs as he pours a shot, then another, “it’s simple, there is no case.”

“If there wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here.”

Lloyd nears and offers one of the glasses. Andy sighs and stretches an arm in front of you to block the other man, “what are you doing?”

“You got this sweet little piece working late. I’m just tryna make it worth her time. You seem like the stingy type,” Lloyd sneers, “one shot won’t hurt.”

“She’s on the clock.”

Lloyd’s brows rise and he snorts. He doesn’t say whatever thought dimples in his cheek.

“Loosen up, you want some? I can get some scotch up here, old man.”

“I drove.”

“Uber,” Lloyd insists, “don’t be a fucking cock block.”

He elbows past Andy and presents you the shot, “there ya go, sweet heart. The good stuff. Top shelf. Whatever he pays you isn’t enough to get you a single ounce.”

You stare at the shot, then Andy. You know you shouldn’t and you really don’t want to drink. You tend to stick to a single drink on your nights out and dilute it with as much water as you can get.

“Um, thanks, but–”

“But nothing. Don’t let the geezer get you down.” He holds the shot almost in your face, “take it, sweet pea. Trust me, you’ll thank me.”

Andy nudges you gently, “it’s fine,” he grumbles under his breath as he takes out his phone, “I’m not leaving until I have something, Hansen.”

“You know what, I’ll give you better than hard evidence, something even harder,” Lloyd snickers as you take the shot but make no move to drink.

Andy backs off, rubbing his cheek as he turns his back to you. He’s angry. You can tell. You’re starting to wonder why he even brought you if he knew this man was like this. Maybe it’s good to get a taste of the difficult ones.

“Cheers, baby,” Lloyd clinks his shot glass against yours, “bottoms up.”

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

In the Wings

Past =-= Next

Author's note: Next Part of Claude in Husbandry. Thanks for @sleepyfan-blog for letting me borrow Ash'val and Cedric.

Summary: Claude gets settled into the Imperial Fist and Salamander Base.

Warnings: Let me know if I need to add more

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k

Claude had told them that Cedric had left confinment to find and bring him back, and that he'd accept punishment on Cedric's behalf. Because it was due to him that Cedric had left the confined to base punishment to one of the Officers in Charge of Cedric's punishment. Captain Ash'val had a neutral expression on his face and had said, "Thank you for telling me Claude. You and Cedric will share some tasks for a month, after you finish healing."

"Yes sir," Claude said with a nod. He left after Ash'val had dismissed him.

Salamanders really are soft, at least compared to how the Mechanicum would have reacted to what Cedric had done. Or how he'd heard that the Black Templars would have responded to Cedric pulling what he did, especially for a cousin instead of a brother. He isn't going to complain. He is continuing to move when he spots something that his ice trace down his spine. He spots teal and silver and the twin heads of the Hydra serpent. He shifts his path to go in a different direction back to Cedric. While also keeping watch on the Hydra. Who- from the ways the others are interacting with him didn't realize his true colors.

Claude had quietly told Cedric what he'd spotted, he knows from what he told about the Alliance between the larger War bands, and the Companies, but it still filled him with dread to spot Hydra interacting with others. They were not to be trusted. Tricksters, face-stealing, duplicitious and two faced are the Traitor Hydra. Who's claws are eyes are every where and apparently everywhen. Cedric had taken his warning with due seriousness and has asked him if he knew the name that the Hydra used that wasn't "Alpharius".

"Luitenant something," Claude said with a self deprecating shrug, "I didn't want him to know that I realized what he was."

"Makes sense," Cedric says as he continues to count inventory of the medbay. Claude helping by putting back the items in the places that his brother- no, cousin indicated they should be put.

He was on light duty, whatever that meant, even though he's fully healed, only needing some minor surgery and his own rapid healing rate helping to patch him up. The rations were of better quality and taste than he remembers them being. Claude continues to help Cedric when he can, not being an Apothecary there isn't much he can do other than hold this or that, and keeping out of the way. His eyes flick from one side of the room to another, and he spots yet more teal. This one acting, and having the equipment of an Apothecary.

"Zariel" is the name the Hydra was being called by and fondly so by some of the visiting Ultramarines. Claude relaxes his vision and the teals changes to Ultramarine blue and gold heraldry for a moment, beforing going back to Teal. he's tried to teach Cedric and the other Primaris Marines that don't have his True Sight ability, not that it seems to work. And none of them know why.

"Claude," Cedric says suddenly, having glanced at his face for a moment before deliberately looking away, "eyes."

Claude closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath as he keeps a clear image of what he's supposed to look like, dark eyed, light skinned and dark haired. He opens his eyes again and lightly taps Cedric with one of his feet carefully who looks at him.

"Better," Cedric hums as they continue to work on medbay inventory. "See something."

"More Teal," Claude says almost silently, making sure not to move his lips as much as possible as he turns his face away from where the Hydra Apothecary pretending to be an Ultramarine is at. "Apothecary Zariel."

"Ah," Cedric replies, trying not to scowl in the direction of Apothecary Zariel of the 'ultramarines'. "We are finished with doing inventory in this med bay, lets go to the next one on the other side of the base Claude."

"Yes Cedric." Claude said with a nod following after his broher.

While most bases built by Imperial Fists followed the same standardized format, it was still a new base to Claude and he didn't want to get lost. He'd missed Cedric a lot once they'd been seperated into their different Chapters and had grieved when he'd heard that the other had gone missing. Slowly, one by one plenty of his brother Primaris Marines had fallen, in battle or have gone missing in the void. Perhaps they might be found one day on Ancient Terra? That would be nice, if that was the case, but the Galaxy was rarely so kind to a creature such as them. They continue to do their duty tasks, pausing to take breaks occasionally, lunch break, which was an indulgent hour long affair, had been nice.

"Do you know if they do Vespers?" Claude asks Cedric.

While the First Born Raven Guard weren't as religious as Black Templars, it was seen as good fortune and to be considered pious to hold Vespers at least once a week. Cedric shifts a little and says, "The First Born don't do Vespers in this base."

"Oh," Claude says struggling a little with that revelation, "Not at all?"

"No, but there are some places that… once my punishment is over," Cedric explains, "We can go to, in order to attend Vespers."

Claude nods at that, while he was allowed to leave the base for missions and for his leisure time, he tended to stay in the base to stay with Cedric more often than not. He… was trying to be friendly with other Scouts, but nearly all of them are First Born Scouts and tended to be… Odd, and very noisy and Boisterous. And they tended to cause Mischief and would complain that he was too much of a 'quiet stick in the mud about harmless pranks.' His face soured at that. If he hadn't stopped them, the prank would have, could have, hit the highest-ranking Chaplain on the base and he did not want to suffer the group punishment that would have doled out.