#at this point I do not want any redemption from his parents

[futuremrscameron]

What would your vision of a more mature Outer Banks show look like?

if i could link all my rants or conversations with moony i would but i’m too lazy to look for them all so i’ll give you the bullet points

morally gray pogues. let jj kill to protect his friends, the pogues closer to juvenile delinquents/ a gang that swindle tourons or steal beer from gas stations, harass kooks and tourons for seemingly no reason, the list goes on and on.

keep in the scene where jj delivers shit to rose and she pays him to sleep with her. obviously they wouldn’t show it but it would be a great way to show just what the pogues have to do to survive and really dial up how predatory kooks are not just financially but in every way possible

have one of the pogues betray the others to protect themselves or their family at one point. ties back into morally gray characters and having nuance like maybe the betrayal was to keep themselves out of prison or someone they loved was threatened or maybe it’s out of spite

acknowledge that ward is abusive and a villain. the show treats him like he’s better than luke and that he’s just misguided or just needs to be saved by the love of his children. he talks down to rafe at best, and slaps him around at worst. puts sarah on a pedestal but like most men in her life when she doesn’t match up to that version of her he has in his head lashes out (physically in s2 episode 10). and last but certainly not least he ignores wheezie, the one who primarily needs his parenting and affections. idk if the show wants us to root for his redemption or it’s just the writers favoriting the camerons but they’re squandering a perfectly good villain.

just have the show be about outer banks quit the traveling. i can excuse them going to the bahamas for the gold cause dug the cameron’s are rich white folk of course they’re gonna hide their shit on a island or in a foreign country but outside of that keep the show in obx. like moony said the island itself is a character so that’s where they should be. i thought s4 was gonna fix that when the gentrification plot was revealed but nope! more treasure. the treasure isn’t even the problem cause i loved the gold and cross plotline but el dorado? morocco? please.

explore classism. for a show about the haves and have nots they barely scratch the surface of what separates the kooks from the pogue besides “they have money and they’re cruel” like BOOOO give me more. don’t you wonder why jj is still living with his fuckass dad? why hasn’t cps taken him to the cops arrested his father? bc they know jj has no one else, no money, and would probably rather stay with his dad. john b’s running from cps arc was cool til they dropped it.

explore antiblackness. if the pates and burke have a shit about black people pope kelce and cleo would’ve gotten a lot more to work with. i don’t even think they realize rafe hate crimed pope so i can’t be surprised but goddamn this ties perfectly into the classism at play in obx. classism and antiblackness go hand in hand so it wouldn’t be that hard to have a storyline about the heywards being better off than jj or john b but still getting disrespected for being ���poor” or “uppity” (antiblack) and not “knowing their place” or have pope tell the pogue’s that just cause he has a fraction more than them doesn’t mean shit and he has more at risk than any of them. he’ll have kiara talking about the micro aggressions she dealt with during her kook year (looking at rafe and crew). speaking of rafe why the fuck is kelce friends with them. is it a can’t beat ‘em join ‘em mentality or better them (pope) than me or is he genuinely a black white supremacist. WE DON’T KNOW. cleo is from the islands and while there’s no shortage of black people there colorism still exists. she’s a dark skinned girl who lived in the street til recently and had to do whatever it takes to survive gee i wonder who she could relate to. also that old white guy in s4 was being blatantly antiblack and xenophobic to her but they went nowhere with that cause of course

rafe and barry lore. now listen this is not just me fujoshing out, this is about figuring out what the fuck these two have going on. who got rafe into drugs? how did he meet barry? how long has barry been selling to rafe? recently? (no) since he was a teenager? (most likely) cause that creates some gross implications and raised eyebrows at barry, makes him look more predatory than he already is (i mean he’s a drug dealer you gotta prey on weaknesses and what not) why do these two get a long to some extent? rafe gets to crash at barry’s and i won’t say it’s cause barry likes him at most (in s1) he’s amused by him s2 on is another story but i won’t get into all that here. they’re no fezco and rue but they definitely have a bond

while we’re on the topic of rafe please diagnose that mf. “there’s always been something wrong with him.” “he’s sick.” he’s mentally ill, stop dancing around it i beg. i know he’s not canonically anything but the signs point to BPD and the people agree so get to it. also have it genetic on his mom’s side and that’s one of the reasons why ward is so scared to acknowledge it or get him help cause that makes it real and he won’t lose his son like he lost his wife. creates intrigue, nuance, drama, empathy for rafe and ward.

queer characters. they should already be in the show but alas. jj queer, kiara queer, barry queer, sarah queer but doesn’t wanna admit it, rafe queer but homophobic, give me range yk?

call out characters’ misogyny. sarah cameron is obx’s number one victim of misogyny, my sister is scared of getting close to people cause she knows when she opens up and isn’t the person they thought she was they’ll lash out (ie; all the men in her life). john b and topper switch up on sarah when she isn’t the perfect girlfriend, not the cheating, just not the devoted girlfriend that’s on their side 24/7z kiara is victim #2 of course. rafe spews nothing but vile misogynistic language to and about sarah and objectifies kiara. ward is possessive of sarah and wants her under his thumb. pope is cold to kiara after she rejects him and jj is #weird to women. (this is probably the writers not picking up on it, having “better things to worry about”, or trusting the viewers to clock it)

amazing ask by the way thank you for letting me yap about my vision

[anpanman95]

I felt that scoff right on my chest too, Joke.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Of Duty and Desire | Ominis Gaunt x Reader

Extra Long One-Shot

This is my first Ominis fic, I hope I do all you Ominis lovers proud :') The plot was heavily inspired by these (1, 2, 3) artworks by @tamayula-hl !!! (they literally create such gorgeous work, I fuckin swoon every time I see them ;.;)

Summary: After years apart, you are forced into a marriage with Ominis Gaunt, someone you once considered a close friend but who pushed you away after Sebastian's breakdown in fifth year. The rift between you has left years of unresolved tension, and on your wedding night, the two of you are forced to confront the fallout.

Words: ~15,700

Tags: Explicit Smut, Pureblood Politics, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Drama, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, No Hogwarts House

The Gaunt family estate loomed like a mausoleum under the pale light of the crescent moon. Its dark stone walls seemed to absorb the light, and the air inside carried a suffocating chill that no roaring fire could banish. Ominis sat alone in his room, the only illumination coming from a single flickering candle perched on his desk. The Gaunt family ring, heavy and ornate, turned slowly between his fingers.

Tomorrow, it would sit on your finger.

His chest tightened at the thought of the ceremony, the vows, the look he imagined you’d give him as you forced to say, I do.

He wished you still saw him the way you did all those years ago, back when you’d shared tentative smiles across the library table, before fifth year shattered everything between you. He’d thought you were remarkable then—fierce, clever, and endlessly loyal to the people you cared about. He still thought so, though the years had placed a wall between you.

A wall he had built.

His hands clenched into fists, the metal of the ring biting into his palm. He could still hear the echo of your argument, that fateful day when Sebastian’s descent into darkness had reached its breaking point. You had wanted to help him, to pull him back, while Ominis had been determined to stop him at any cost. The two of you had stood on opposite sides of a chasm, and in his frustration, his fear, Ominis had pushed you away.

But now? Now, you were to be his bride.

The marriage contract had been delivered two months ago, the parchment sealed with the Gaunt crest and bearing the oppressive weight of their expectations. You had no grand family name, no wealth or influence to rival the Gaunts, but you had something far more valuable: ancient magic.

Your family had no power to refuse the offer—not when the Gaunts were known for their ruthlessness. You’d been given no choice, and neither had he.

Ominis exhaled a shaky breath, setting the ring down on the desk with a soft clink.

The bitter irony was that you had been right about Sebastian all along, and Ominis had destroyed what you had years ago for nothing.

Ominis had doubted Sebastian—had believed that his obsession with dark magic would destroy everything and everyone in its path. But eventually, with time and a painful amount of humility, Sebastian had begun to heal. He had come back to them. He had proven himself capable of change, of redemption.

And you’d seen it all along.

Ominis swallowed hard, the guilt twisting his stomach. You’d begged him to give Sebastian a chance, to believe in the person he could be. But Ominis had been too blinded by his own fears to listen. His distrust had cost him Sebastian’s friendship for years. And worse, it had cost him you ever since.

He rested his head in his hands, elbows braced on the desk. The weight of it all was suffocating.

The memory of your expression when you’d arrived at the Gaunt manor two days ago lingered in his mind.

Even without the clarity of sight, he could feel the weight you carried. He’d “seen” the stiffness in your shoulders, the faint tremor in your hands as you’d clasped them in front of you, your head turning ever so slightly toward him as his parents greeted you. For a fleeting second, he’d felt your attention, a thin, aching tether between you.

But you hadn’t spoken to him. Not then, and not since.

What could he possibly say to make this better? “I’m sorry” was laughable at this point. He was sorry, of course—sorry for every cruel word spoken in the heat of fifth year, sorry for not trusting you, sorry for not preventing you from falling into the Gaunt nightmare—but no apology could undo the damage.

A knock at the door startled him from his thoughts. He straightened, smoothing his hair as if that would make any difference. “Come in,” he called, his voice steadier than he felt.

The door creaked open, and one of the Gaunt family’s house-elves stepped hesitantly into the room. “Master Ominis,” the elf began, its voice trembling, “your bride-to-be is in the garden, sir.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut.

“Why?” he asked, his throat dry.

“She—she is pacing, sir. She looks… upset.“

Ominis nodded, rising from his chair. “Thank you,” he said, though the elf was already retreating, bowing its way out of the room.

You were upset. Of course, you were. Why wouldn’t you be? Tomorrow, you were being forced to marry him and tie yourself to a family that cared only about what they could take from you. And worse, tied to him—a man who had pushed you away when you’d needed him most, who had no right to ask anything of you, least of all forgiveness.

But the thought of you pacing alone in the gardens, trapped in your own swirling emotions, was unbearable. Ominis didn’t know if he could say anything to help, but he couldn’t just sit here and do nothing.

He moved swiftly through the dark corridors, and when he reached the door to the garden, he paused, letting his wand hum faintly to map the space before him. He sensed the vast openness of the ahead, the night air cool against his skin, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and dying roses.

And there you were.

Your silhouette materialized in his mind like a shadow against the darkness. You were pacing, just as the house-elf had said, your movements quick and restless. It was a knife to Ominis’s chest, seeing the person he cared for so deeply reduced to this.

Care.

No, he thought bitterly, that wasn’t the right word. He loved you. He had loved you since before he even understood what love truly was. And that made it all so much worse.

Because you would never love him.

Ominis stood stiffly in the doorway. You hadn’t noticed him yet, too consumed by your thoughts and frantic steps that sent gravel crunching underfoot. But when he shifted his weight, the faint sound of his movement caught your attention. You stopped abruptly, your head turning toward him, your posture instantly stiffening.

“Ominis,” you said, your voice calm but sharp like the edge of a blade. “…Couldn’t sleep?”

He hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to answer. He recognized the tension in your tone, the way you carefully shielded yourself with polite indifference. It was the same tone you’d used with his parents when you arrived, the one where he’d sensed every ounce of resentment you’d tucked away beneath a mask of cordiality.

“No,” he said softly, stepping further into the garden. “I was told you were out here.”

“Of course,” you replied, your voice carrying a detached sort of humor. "Not allowed a moment of solitude, hm?"

Ominis flinched inwardly, his wand picking up on the subtle tremor in your hands as you folded your arms across your chest.

“I thought… perhaps you might want to talk,” he said carefully, his voice low.

“With you? No,” you replied quickly, brushing off the suggestion as though it didn’t matter. You turned your back to him. “Talking to you won’t help.”

Ominis winced but didn’t respond. The silence stretched between you, the night air growing heavier with each passing second.

“I’m sorry,” he said at length, the words feeling inadequate even as they left his mouth.

You laughed, soft and humorless, as you turned back toward the fountain. “Sorry,” you echoed. “Of course. And that makes it all better, does it?”

He took a hesitant step closer, his wand pulsing faintly to track the distance between you. “I mean it,” he said. “I wish things were different.”

“Do you?” you asked, glancing at him over your shoulder. ““Because last time I checked, you’re the one who pushed me away."

Ominis froze, the accusation cutting through him like a blade. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat.

You turned fully to face him now, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. “Do you think I don’t remember?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly with the weight of unspoken emotion. “The things you said to me? The way you looked at me, like I was… like I was the problem?”

“That’s not what I—” Ominis started, but you cut him off with a sharp laugh, one that lacked any real humor.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, your voice quieter now but no less firm. “Nothing either of us says now will change anything. And tomorrow, we’ll stand in front of your family and say the words they want to hear."

You turned abruptly, your footsteps crunching against the gravel as you moved past him. “Goodnight, Ominis,” you said, your tone clipped and distant as you made your way back toward the manor.

He turned slightly, his wand picking up the blur of your retreating figure as you disappeared into the cold, sterile halls of the estate. The faint trace of your magic lingered in the air, turbulent and raw, and he hated himself for not being able to ease it.

~~~

Morning came like a thief, stealing away the fragile moments of sleep Ominis had clung to in the restless hours of the night. The Gaunt manor, usually oppressive in its quiet, was unnaturally alive with activity. House-elves scurried through the halls, their frantic movements punctuated by the clinking of silver trays and hurried whispers. His parents had spared no effort to make the day grand, though their motives were far from sentimental.

Even worse, his extended family had descended like vultures, eager to witness the union that would bind your ancient magic to the Gaunt bloodline. Even Ominis’s older brother, Marvolo, had returned from his work abroad for the occasion, his mere presence enough to sour the air. Ominis had always loathed Marvolo—arrogant, cruel, and every bit the model Gaunt heir their parents had hoped for. The rest of the family wasn’t much better. Aunts, uncles, and distant cousins he resented filled the halls, their haughty laughter echoing off the cold stone walls.

Ominis moved through the chaos like a ghost, his mind as numb as his steps. He had imagined marrying you a hundred—no, a thousand—times, but never like this.

In his dreams, you loved him back. Your smiles were soft and unguarded, your laughter warm, your hand reaching for his not out of duty, but out of choice. But those dreams had always been fragile, built on a shaky foundation of what-ifs and hope he’d never dared voice aloud.

You wedding band weighed heavily in his pocket, a cruel reminder of the vows he would unwittingly force you to take. He told himself he was doing this to protect you—that he was backed into a corner with no way out. It wasn’t a lie. His parents had made their expectations clear: defy them, and Ominis would pay the price. The Gaunts had always been dangerous, even to their own blood. He’d seen it with his older cousins, the ones who had been disowned or “disappeared” for daring to cross the family.

And that didn’t even encompass what they might do to you.

The sharp knock on his door startled him. Ominis straightened instinctively, brushing a hand over his hair as if readying himself for battle.

“It’s me,” Sebastian’s voice called through the heavy wood, rough but familiar.

“Come in,” Ominis replied, his voice steadier than he felt.

The door creaked open, and Sebastian stepped inside, his expression a mix of concern and irritation. He was dressed sharply, though his tie was slightly crooked—a detail Ominis would have pointed out if he’d had the energy to notice.

“You look like hell,” Sebastian said, crossing the room and leaning against the desk.

“I feel worse,” Ominis admitted, lowering himself into the chair by the window.

Sebastian tilted his head, scrutinizing Ominis with a sharpness that felt impossible to ignore.

“…You love her, don’t you?” Sebastian asked suddenly, his voice blunt and cutting straight to the point. He had never been one to dance around difficult questions.

Ominis let out a hollow laugh, his hands tightening on the arms of the chair. “What kind of question is that?”

“A simple one,” Sebastian said, standing straighter, arms crossed. “Do. You. Love. Her?”

Ominis sighed heavily, his head tilting back as though seeking answers from the cracked ceiling above. “You already know the answer to that, Sebastian,” he said, his voice low and bitter. “You’ve always known.”

“Humor me,” Sebastian pressed.

Ominis’s lips curled into a humorless smile. “Of course I love her. I’ve always loved her. Since before I even understood what that meant. And you know that. So why ask?”

Sebastian scoffed, fixing Ominis with an unrelenting stare. “Because you’re acting like this is the end of the world. You love her. And now you’re marrying her. She’s about to be your wife.”

Ominis turned his head sharply, his sightless gaze narrowing slightly. “My wife?” His voice rose, edged with frustration. “This isn’t a marriage, Sebastian. It’s a transaction. A cage.” He gestured vaguely toward the window, where the distant hum of laughter and footsteps filled the courtyard. “She doesn’t want this. And she certainly doesn’t want me.”

Sebastian didn’t flinch, his calmness almost maddening. “But you love her,” he pointed out again. “That means you can make something of this. You can try.”

Ominis let out a sharp breath, his hands gripping the arms of the chair so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Try what? To pretend that she doesn’t hate me?” He shook his head, his voice quieter now, but no less filled with anguish. “She does hate me, Sebastian. And why wouldn’t she?”

Sebastian frowned, his expression flickering with guilt. “You were scared. We all were. What happened back then…” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair. “It wasn’t easy for any of us.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ominis snapped. “I made my choices. And now, she thinks I’m no better than my parents.” His voice cracked slightly, the weight of the words cutting deeper than he cared to admit. “She thinks I’m just like them, putting her through this. And maybe she’s right.”

“She doesn’t think that. You’re nothing like your parents,” Sebastian said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And if you’d stop wallowing in self-pity for half a second, you might see that she doesn’t actually hate you.”

Ominis scoffed, shaking his head. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” Sebastian said, beginning to pace the room with his usual restless energy. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you, Ominis. She’s hurt, sure. Angry. But hate? No.”

Ominis leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. “You’re imagining things,” he muttered.

“Am I?” Sebastian challenged, stopping in his tracks to face him. “You’ve spent years convincing yourself she hates you, but did you ever stop to actually talk to her about it? Or did you just decide she hated you because it was easier than dealing with the mess you made?”

The words hit their mark, and Ominis flinched. He couldn’t deny it. He had avoided you for years, too ashamed of his actions to face you properly. He had assumed the worst because it was safer than hoping for anything else.

Sebastian sighed heavily, glancing over at the ornate clock hanging on the wall. The ticking sound, once faint, now seemed to echo in the room like a countdown to inevitability. He ran a hand through his hair, his gaze flicking back to Ominis.

“We’re out of time,” he said flatly. “They’re going to be expecting us downstairs.”

Ominis didn’t move at first, his hands still gripping the arms of his chair. He looked like a man on the edge of breaking, and for a moment, Sebastian considered calling the whole thing off himself. But he knew that wouldn’t solve anything. This wasn’t a fight they could win—not here, not now.

“Come on,” Sebastian urged, his voice softer. “Let’s get this over with.”

Ominis exhaled slowly, the sound heavy with resignation. He stood, his movements stiff and reluctant, his fingers brushing down the front of his suit as though trying to compose himself. His family had ensured every detail of his appearance was perfect—he looked every bit the polished Gaunt heir, the image they demanded. But inside, he felt hollow.

Sebastian gave him a faint nod, adjusting his own crooked tie. “You’ll survive this,” he said with a slight smile. “Everything will work out.”

Ominis didn’t respond, his throat too tight to form words. Instead, he followed Sebastian out of the room, the sound of their footsteps mingling with the distant hum of activity that filled the manor. Every step felt heavier than the last, the anticipation building in his chest like a storm.

The courtyard garden had been transformed into a grand display of pure-blood prestige. Rows of white chairs lined the manicured lawn, and a narrow aisle flanked by enchanted, softly glowing flowers led to an altar at the far end. Ivy climbed the stone arch that framed the altar, its dark green tendrils twisting delicately around clusters of pale blossoms.

Ominis stood at the altar, his back straight and his hands clasped tightly in front of him, his wand tucked away in his sleeve. The suit he wore was immaculate, tailored perfectly to his tall, lean frame. But even as he stood there, a picture of composure, his mind churned with unease.

Beyond him, countless guests sat in waiting—pure-bloods from every corner of their miserable society, their presence a suffocating reminder of the world he had tried—and failed—to escape.

His extended family dominated the seats closest to the altar, their self-satisfied smirks and sharp whispers grating against his already frayed nerves. The Gaunts had arrived in full force, a parade of arrogance and entitlement, each one more intolerable than the last.

Ominis’s parents sat in the front row, their expressions masks of triumph. His mother, draped in rich emerald, surveyed the scene with quiet pride, while his father sat like a statue, his posture rigid, his face a cold, unyielding mask. And then there was Marvolo, lounging casually in his seat beside them, his smirk a permanent fixture as though the entire event were for his personal amusement.

Across the aisle sat the members of your family, their expressions far less composed. Your mother’s hands were folded tightly in her lap, her face pale and drawn as she avoided meeting anyone’s gaze, eyes flicking nervously between the guests and the altar.

The contrast between them and the Gaunts couldn’t have been starker. Ominis’s family were predators, their confidence unshakable, while yours looked like cornered prey. And you… you were the sacrificial offering, the tether between their worlds.

The low hum of chatter faded as the first notes of music filled the courtyard, soft and lilting yet as heavy as a tolling bell. Ominis stiffened, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. This was it. The beginning of the end. The melody floated through the air, a cruel, elegant herald of what was to come.

He couldn’t breathe.

The sound of footsteps against the stone aisle cut through the music, and Ominis’s wand pulsed faintly in his sleeve, mapping the space before him. In his mind’s eye, he saw them—two figures approaching the altar. Anne and Sebastian. The only two friends he had managed to invite to this sham of a wedding. His parents had objected, of course, but for once, Ominis had refused to yield. If they were going to strip away every ounce of choice from this union, he would at least ensure that two people who truly cared about either of you would stand witness.

Anne walked with quiet grace beside her brother, her head held high and her movements calm, even as the weight of the moment pressed down on her. She had always been your rock, and now, she looked every bit the part.

Sebastian, meanwhile, walked with his usual subtle defiance, his jaw clenched as though he were biting back a dozen remarks that would surely have caused a scene.

As the Sallow twins joined Ominis at the altar, the music softened, a momentary pause that signaled what came next.

And then, you appeared.

The air in the courtyard seemed to shift as the music swelled once more, drawing every gaze to the entrance. Ominis’s wand hummed, and for the first time in his life, he felt as though he could truly see.

Shapes and shadows sharpened in his mind, the lines of the archway and the glow of the enchanted lanterns framing you like a painting. Your figure materialized with unprecedented clarity, every detail irreversibly etching itself into his memory.

You were breathtaking.

The soft glow of the lanterns seemed to chase after you down the aisle, casting a warm, ethereal light as you stepped forward, arm looped through your father’s. Your gown was simple yet striking, its flowing fabric a cascade of soft ivory that hugged your figure just enough to suggest elegance without excess.

Your hair was swept into an elegant updo, soft tendrils framing your face and neck, accentuating the graceful curve of your collarbone. The tasteful touch of makeup enhanced your features without overpowering them, the faint flush of color on your cheeks and lips lending you an almost otherworldly glow. You looked every bit the part of a bride—refined, poised, and heartbreakingly beautiful.

Ominis’s heart twisted painfully. Despite everything, despite knowing how wrong this was, he allowed himself a single moment of cruel, fleeting hope. He imagined that this was real. That you had chosen this. That the soft shimmer of your gown, the elegance of your updo, the deliberate grace with which you moved—all of it was for him.

For a heartbeat, he believed it. That you had taken your father’s arm and walked toward him because you loved him. That your choice to stand before this crowd, to become his wife, was born of something true, not forced by the iron will of his family.

But reality was cruel.

He could feel it in the tremor of your hand as you reached the altar, in the absence of warmth in your fleeting glance as your eyes locked with his. There was no joy in your expression, no affection, only quiet resolve and resignation. You weren’t here for him. You were here because you had no other choice.

Your father released your arm hesitantly, his hand lingering for a brief moment as though reluctant to let go. His face was pale and drawn, his jaw tight as he gave you a faint nod. You stepped forward alone, taking your place across from Ominis.

He caught the slight hitch in your breath as the officiant spoke. It was subtle—so subtle that no one else would have noticed—but to him, it felt like a scream. He wanted to reach for you, to close the distance, to bridge the gap he had created all those years ago. But his hands remained at his sides, his palms clammy against the cool fabric of his trousers.

The officiant’s words droned on, his low, measured tone a blur in Ominis’s ears. He could barely hear it over the roaring in his chest, the heavy thud of his heartbeat as he focused entirely on you.

And then the moment came.

“Do you, Ominis Gaunt, take her to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

The words cut through the fog in his mind like a knife. For a fraction of a second, he hesitated, his throat tightening painfully. He could feel his parents’ gaze burning into him, his father’s unyielding authority pressing down like a lead weight. The crowd’s silence was deafening, expectant, suffocating.

His lips parted, and the words tumbled out before he could stop them, heavy and hollow.

“I do.”

The officiant turned to you, repeating the same question.

“And do you take Ominis Gaunt to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Ominis held his breath, his entire body tense as he waited for your response. The pause that followed felt endless, each second stretching into an eternity. For a moment, he thought you might refuse.

But when you spoke, your voice was quiet and steady, though devoid of any joy.

“I do.”

The words hung in the air, final and irreversible. The officiant’s voice rose again, completing the ritual with the formal pronouncement that sealed your fates.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Mr. Gaunt, you may now kiss your bride.”

Ominis froze.

How had he forgotten about this part? He’d imagined this twisted mockery of a wedding day a thousand times, and yet this moment—the one he had once dreamed of with such hope—had slipped through the cracks of his planning. The girl of his dreams was standing right there, so close he could feel the warmth of you, and now he was meant to kiss you.

His hands twitched at his sides, his breath catching in his throat as he forced himself to move. The crowd was watching, their silence heavy with expectation. His parents’ satisfaction was palpable, his extended family practically giddy at the spectacle. But all Ominis could focus on was you—the tension radiating from your frame, the subtle way your shoulders stiffened as you waited.

He stepped closer, his wand mapping the space between you. His hand hovered near your waist, uncertain, before finally settling there lightly. He could feel the delicate fabric of your gown beneath his palm, the warmth of your body through the material.

Ominis leaned in slowly, his heart pounding so loudly he was certain you could hear it. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Not like this, not with the weight of obligation hanging between you like a curse.

With his eyes fluttering closed, his lips brushed yours in the faintest, most hesitant of kisses. As he expected, you were still—frozen, unmoving, your lips soft but lifeless against his. The kiss was chaste, obligatory, and for a moment, it felt like a dagger to his heart.

And then something expected happened.

You kissed him back.

Ominis’s mind went blank, his senses overwhelmed. It was subtle at first—a gentle press, a shift in the way your lips moved against his. But then it deepened, and the world seemed to explode around him. Fireworks erupted in his mind, a kaleidoscope of sensation, your warmth spreading through him like wildfire.

The taste of your lips, soft and slightly sweet, was unlike anything he had ever known. It was perfect. You were perfect. In that moment, everything else faded away—the oppressive weight of the crowd’s gaze, the suffocating expectations of his family, the years of distance and resentment between you.

His hands tightened instinctively at your waist, pulling you just a fraction closer, and he revelled in the curve of you beneath his fingers. It was everything, you were everything, he had ever dreamed of and infinitely more.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over.

You pulled away slowly, your movements deliberate, as though reminding both of you that the moment had passed. Ominis’s hands lingered at your waist for a fraction of a second before he let them drop to his sides, his fingers curling slightly as though trying to hold on to the ghost of your touch.

His breath was unsteady as he straightened, his mind reeling. You’d kissed him back.

Why?

Had it been part of the performance? A calculated move to play the part of the perfect bride? Or had it been something else entirely?

He didn’t have time to dwell on it. The officiant’s voice rose again, announcing the end of the ceremony and you were slipping your hand into his. Swallowing hard, Ominis led you back down the aisle.

The crowd rose to their feet, their clapping a dull roar in his ears as he walked with you at his side. Every step felt surreal, the moment between you still crackling like static in his chest.

He didn’t dare look at you. Not now. He wasn’t sure he could handle whatever answer your expression might hold.

But as the two of you passed beneath the ivy-draped arch, stepping into the unknown future that awaited you both, Ominis couldn’t help but wonder if, just maybe, that kiss had been real after all.

~~~

The reception had been nothing short of torturous for Ominis.

If the kiss at the altar had left him confused, the evening that followed only deepened the storm in his mind. Because from the moment you both entered the grand hall where the reception was held, you played the part of the happy bride.

You’d smile at Ominis, soft and convincing, allow him to hold your hand, to rest his palm lightly against the small of your back as the two of you made the rounds, greeting the guests who had gathered to witness your union.

You spoke to guests with grace and poise, weaving stories of your Hogwarts days into the conversation with ease. Tales of late-night library study sessions, Quidditch matches, and the occasional mischievous escapade were all recounted with a fondness that left Ominis reeling.

You spoke of those moments as though they had been golden—untarnished by the years of bitterness and distance that had followed. And for the guests, it was a perfect performance, a portrait of a couple deeply in love, bound not just by obligation but by shared memories and affection.

The guests were relentless in their attention, each one more insistent than the last in prying into your lives. How you met, what your future plans as a couple might be, when you fell in love, was it love at first sight.

Ominis had been stunned at how quickly you answered the last question. You didn’t miss a beat, your lips curling into a soft, polite smile. “Oh, absolutely not,” you said, your voice light with humor. “Our first meeting was… let’s say, less than ideal.”

His stomach twisted at your words, but you pressed on, the ease in your tone disarming the nosy crowd.

“He found me in his personal study spot,” you continued, glancing briefly at Ominis with a glimmer of something in your eyes that he couldn’t quite place. “I’ll never forget how furious he was.”

There were a few chuckles from the guests, and Ominis forced himself to smile faintly, though his mind was racing. He knew exactly what you were referring to. The Undercroft. But you’d never betray that secret, not even after all he'd done to you.

You went on, your tone growing softer, more reflective. “I thought I’d made a terrible first impression. And, well, I had.” A few more chuckles rippled through the group. “But a few days later, he apologized. He didn’t have to—he could’ve just ignored me forever—but he did. And...we became friends after that. It wasn’t easy at first. We’re both… stubborn.” You laughed lightly, the sound so genuine it felt like a blade cutting through the air. “But we figured it out.”

Ominis felt like the ground beneath him was shifting. These weren’t just pretty words spun to entertain the guests or to appease his family. This memory was real. Every moment you described was real.

In fact, he probably knew these memories better than you did, because he had held onto them as tightly as a drowning man clutches a piece of driftwood. They were the only part of you he’d been allowed to keep, and now, here you were, bringing them to life as though the years of distance and pain hadn’t fractured them beyond recognition.

“The moment I realized it was more than just friendship was not long after, right before Christmas,” you continued, your gaze growing distant as though you were looking back into the past. “We’d spent the day shopping in Hogsmeade. The three of us—Ominis, Sebastian, and me.”

Ominis’s heart twisted at the mention of that day. He remembered it vividly, every detail coming to life in his mind as you spoke.

“It had started snowing that afternoon,” you continued, a soft smile curling at your lips. “We’d bought sweets at Honeydukes, browsed the shop windows, even picked up a few last-minute gifts. By the time we made it to the Three Broomsticks, we were freezing.”

The guests chuckled, and Ominis’s lips quirked into a faint smile despite himself. He could almost feel the icy wind again, the way your cheeks had flushed red from the cold.

“And then,” you said, your smile widening slightly, “Sebastian—being Sebastian—managed to spill an entire mug of butterbeer all over me. It was awful, I was absolutely soaked, sticky, and cold.”

More laughter rippled through the group, and Ominis felt a faint heat rise to his cheeks as he remembered the way you’d looked—your expression caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement as you tried to wring out your sleeves.

“But then,” you continued, glancing briefly at Ominis, “he gave me his coat.”

That was true. He had. Though Ominis hadn’t thought much of it at the time—he’d just wanted to make sure you were comfortable and warm. But now, hearing you speak of it, he realized maybe it had meant more than he’d ever understood.

“And not just that,” you said, your voice softening. “He left the Three Broomsticks, in the middle of the snowstorm, and went to Gladrags to buy me a clean set of clothes. He didn’t have to, but he did. And when he came back, he handed me the bag like it was the most natural thing in the world, like it wasn’t a big deal at all.”

Ominis’s throat felt tight, his hands clenching at his sides as he remembered the look on your face when he’d handed you that bag. You had been startled at first, your eyes widening as you glanced between him and the neatly wrapped parcel. Then you’d smiled—a small, genuine smile that had left him momentarily speechless.

“That was the moment,” you said softly, your voice carrying a note of vulnerability that struck Ominis to his core. “The moment I realized he wasn’t just my friend. That he was… more. That I loved him.”

Your words hung in the air, a quiet confession wrapped in the guise of a story for the guests’ entertainment. Ominis could feel every gaze in the room turn toward him, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet any of them. His focus was entirely on you—on the way your voice had softened, the way your smile lingered just a fraction longer than it needed to.

Were you simply using a real memory to bolster your performance? Was this a carefully chosen story to charm the crowd? Or was there a flicker of truth buried beneath the polished delivery?

The rest of the evening passed in a blur for Ominis. The guests continued to press you both with questions, and you answered them all with the same ease and grace. He played his part, too. Smiled when he needed to, laughed when it was expected, but his mind was elsewhere, racing with memories of that day in Hogsmeade so long ago, of the way you’d looked at him then, and the way you’d spoken of it now.

By the time the reception finally came to an end, Ominis was exhausted—not from the physical effort of the evening, but from the mental and emotional toll it had taken.

And now, as the two of you walked through the opulent halls of the hotel where you would be spending your first night as husband and wife, the weight of it all was beginning to crush him.

The sound of your footsteps echoed softly against the marble floors, mingling with the faint hum of distant conversation and the soft rustle of your gown. The hotel was grand, each detail designed to impress, but Ominis barely noticed any of it. His focus was entirely on you—the way you walked beside him, close but not quite touching, your silence stretching between you like a chasm.

Finally, the two of you reached the door to your suite. Ominis hesitated for a moment, his fingers brushing against the ornate handle as he inserted the key.

Exhaling slowly, he turned the handle and pushed the door open. The suite beyond was as opulent as the rest of the hotel—richly furnished, with soft, glowing light and an enormous bed draped in luxurious fabrics. A chilled bottle of champagne sat waiting on a nearby table, two crystal flutes beside it.

The two of you stepped inside, and Ominis’s chest tightened as he shut the door behind you, the finality of the moment settling over him like a weight. Here you were. Alone with him, no audience, no expectations—just the two of you and the silence that neither of you seemed to know how to break.

You moved toward the corner of the room where the house-elves had neatly arranged your bags, the contents folded with meticulous care.

Without a word, you pulled a set of pajamas and your toothbrush from the bag, your movements quick and purposeful. Without meeting his gaze, you turned on your heel and headed straight for the bathroom. The soft click of the door closing behind you echoed through the stillness of the suite, louder than it had any right to be, and Ominis exhaled slowly, releasing a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.

For a moment, he stood there, motionless, his fingers curling and uncurling at his sides. Then, with a quiet sigh, he began to loosen his tie, the fabric slipping easily from his collar. He tugged it free and let it drop onto the nearest chair before running a hand through his hair. The day’s events replayed in his mind like a loop he couldn’t escape—your words, your smile, the warmth of your laughter, and the kiss at the altar that had left him reeling.

It was too much.

Ominis moved to the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he sat heavily on the edge. He toed off his shoes, one after the other, and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His hands came up to his face, fingers pressing lightly against his temples as he tried to push the chaos in his mind into some semblance of order.

But there was no clarity to be found. Only questions he was too afraid to ask and doubts he couldn’t shake.

The sound of water running in the bathroom was faint but constant, a reminder that you were just on the other side of the door. He wondered what you were thinking, whether the evening had left you as drained as it had left him. He wondered if you’d meant the things you’d said during the reception, if there was truth hidden in the warmth of your words, or if it had all been part of the carefully orchestrated performance.

More than anything, he wondered what would happen when you came out of that bathroom—if the silence would continue to stretch between you, or if one of you would finally be brave enough to break it.

With a heavy sigh, he sat up, his movements mechanical as he made his way toward his own bag to prepare for bed. He crouched down, his fingers brushing over the neatly packed contents until he found his sleepwear.

He stood, the soft fabric of his dress shirt brushing against his skin as he worked to unbutton it. His fingers moved methodically, one button at a time, but his mind was elsewhere—on you, still behind the closed door, and the way everything about this night felt wrong.

This wasn’t how a wedding night was supposed to feel.

It wasn’t supposed to feel so strained, so heavy. There should have been laughter, warmth, the giddy sort of nervousness that came with embarking on a new chapter together. Instead, there was unrelenting tension. A chasm of unspoken words and unanswered questions that neither of you seemed ready to bridge.

Ominis shrugged out of his shirt, letting it fall to the floor behind him as he reached for the waistband of his dress pants. He unclasped them, the fabric loosening around his waist.

And then the bathroom door opened.

The quiet click of the handle made him freeze, his hands stilling as he turned his head slightly toward the sound.

You stepped out, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

Without his wand, Ominis couldn’t sense the details of your expression, couldn’t see the way your eyes might have widened or the way your lips might have parted slightly in surprise. He couldn’t tell what you were thinking, how you were reacting, and it left him feeling unmoored.

The air between you felt charged, the silence stretching out like a thread pulled taut. He was acutely aware of his state—bare-chested, his dress pants undone and hanging low on his hips. He wondered what you thought of him—what you saw when you looked at him now.

He had an idea of his appearance, of course. His wand’s mapping magic had given him a sense of his own features over the years, an understanding of the angles and planes of his face, the height and shape of his frame. He had been told, more than once, that he was conventionally attractive—sharp, aristocratic features that bore the unmistakable stamp of his bloodline.

But those compliments had always left a bitter taste in his mouth. His pale skin, high cheekbones, and long, slicked-back blonde hair—all of it tied him far too clearly to the Gaunt family, to a legacy he resented with every fiber of his being. Even his tall, lithe frame, lean from years of discipline and sparring practice, seemed more like a reminder of his upbringing than something to take pride in.

And now, standing here in this charged silence, he couldn’t help but wonder what you thought when you looked at him. Did you find him attractive? Or did you see only the Gaunt heir—a pawn in the endless, suffocating game of pure-blood politics?

He had no way of knowing. And for a moment, he almost reached for his wand, desperate for the faint hum of its magic to ground him. But he resisted, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

“Sorry,” you murmured softly, your voice breaking the silence. It wasn’t sharp or cold—just quiet, almost tentative.

“N-no,” Ominis said quickly, his voice low and uneven. He straightened slightly, his hands falling to his sides. “I—I should be the one apologizing.”

You didn’t respond immediately, and he could hear the faint rustle of fabric as you shifted, likely clutching your wedding dress tighter against you. “I’m finished in the bathroom, if you want to change in there,” you offered, your tone polite, carefully neutral. “Or… I can just turn around, if that’s easier.”

Ominis’s fingers twitched at his sides, his throat tightening. The absurdity of the situation struck him. You were married, bound by the vows you’d exchanged earlier that day, and yet you could barely manage to exist in the same space without this unbearable awkwardness.

“No, I’ll—I’ll use the bathroom,” he said, his voice tight. “Thank you.”

His toothbrush and pajamas in hand, Ominis disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click. He set his things down on the counter and leaned heavily against the sink, exhaling a shaky breath.

The mirror above the sink offered no reflection, but he didn’t need to see his face to know what he’d find there—a pale, drawn expression, tension etched into every line. He let his fingers trail over the cool porcelain of the sink before reaching to splash cold water on his face, hoping it might clear his mind, if only for a moment.

He quickly changed into his sleepwear and brushed his teeth, though the routine didn’t do much to ease the tightness in his chest.

When he finally emerged, his hair slightly damp from the water he’d splashed on his face, he reached for his wand then stopped in his tracks. The bed, massive and draped in luxurious fabrics, was untouched. Instead, you had set up a makeshift bed on the floor using a collection of spare blankets and pillows.

You were kneeling beside it, smoothing out a blanket, and when you noticed him, you straightened, brushing your hands against the fabric of your pajamas.

“I thought…” you began, your voice trailing off as though you were unsure how to explain yourself. “You should take the bed.”

Ominis blinked, stunned into silence for a moment. “You… you don’t have to do that,” he said quietly, his voice laced with something that sounded almost like guilt. “The bed is yours too.”

You shook your head, the motion subtle but certain. “It’s fine. Really. I’ll be more comfortable here.”

Ominis stiffened, watching you adjust the blankets and pillows as though you could somehow make the situation less absurd. It struck him all at once just how wrong this was. It was your wedding night—a night meant for intimacy and closeness—and yet here you were, offering to sleep on the floor.

Did you hate him that much? That the idea of sharing a bed with him, even in the most innocent sense, was so unbearable?

He couldn't keep quiet.

“I’ll take the floor,” Ominis said, his voice quiet but firm. He stepped closer, his fingers tightening around his wand. “You shouldn’t have to.”

You looked up at him, startled for a moment, before shaking your head. “Ominis, it’s fine,” you said, your tone polite but insistent. “I’ll be more comfortable here. Really.”

“It’s not fine,” he replied quickly. “It’s wrong. You shouldn’t have to sleep on the floor—especially not tonight.”

“It’s not wrong if I’m choosing to,” you countered, folding your arms across your chest. “The bed is yours. I don’t mind.”

Ominis’s frustration began to bubble beneath the surface, his composure slipping. “You don’t have to pretend you’re fine with this,” he insisted, his tone growing sharper despite his efforts to keep it even.

“I’m not pretending,” you shot back. “I said I don’t mind, and I meant it.”

“Why?” Ominis asked, his voice rising slightly. “Why are we doing this? All this… politeness and decorum?”

Your expression shifted, your jaw tightening as you glanced away. “What are you talking about?”

“This,” Ominis said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “The careful words, the pretending that any of this is normal. Why are we bothering? Why are we talking to each other like strangers? There’s no one here to see it. No one to keep up appearances for. It’s just us.”

You stared at him, your expression unreadable. “Maybe because we are strangers, Ominis. We have been for years, haven’t we?”

Ominis froze, your words striking him harder than he expected. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. You didn’t look away, your expression steady but tinged with something he couldn’t quite place—resignation, perhaps, or maybe sadness.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” you pressed, your voice quieter now but no less pointed. “After fifth year, you made it perfectly clear how you felt.”

He flinched, his jaw tightening as your words sank in. “I was trying to protect you,” he said quietly, his voice strained. “From Sebastian.”

“Don’t,” you said sharply, cutting him off. “Don’t put this on Sebastian. This isn’t about him. This is about you.”

Ominis turned his head slightly, his throat tightening as the weight of your accusation settled over him. He couldn’t argue with it—not entirely. You were right. It was his choice to push you away, though at the time he’d convinced himself it was the right thing to do.

“So no, you weren’t protecting me,” you continued sharply, your voice rising. “You were punishing me.”

He flinched as though you’d struck him, his sightless eyes widening. “Punishing you?” he echoed, his voice a mixture of disbelief and pain. “Why would I—”

“Because you didn’t trust me,” you cut in, your voice breaking slightly. “You thought I was wrong. You thought I didn’t understand, that I wasn’t on your side. So you pushed me away and you’ve done it ever since.”

“No,” Ominis said quickly, shaking his head. “That’s not—”

“Then what is it?” you demanded, taking a step closer, your anger and pain spilling out in equal measure. “Because that’s what it felt like. That’s what it’s always felt like. And now—” Your voice cracked, and you took a shaky breath before continuing. “And now, you’re stuck with me.” You lifted your left hand, the Gaunt family ring reflecting the lamplight. “And trust me, I know this isn’t what you want.”

Ominis froze, the weight of your words taking a moment to settle. And then, he almost laughed. The absurdity of the idea that he wouldn’t want you—you of all people—was almost too much to bear.

He’d imagined it—dreamed of it, hoped for it in the quiet, unguarded moments of his life. For years, he had spent his nights picturing you by his side, your hand in his, your voice soft and full of laughter as you spoke his name. He had clung to the idea of a future with you like a lifeline, even though, due to his own stupidity, it was impossible.

“If anyone doesn’t want this,” Ominis said finally, his voice trembling as he spoke, “it’s you.”

You blinked, your expression shifting from anger to confusion. “What?”

“You’re right,” he said, his grip tightening on his wand as he forced the words out. “You’re right about everything. About what I did, about why I pushed you away.” He swallowed hard, his throat tight. “Even if I didn’t realize it, I did punish you.”

You stared at him, your anger softening into something more complicated, though you didn’t interrupt.

“I’ve given you every reason to hate me,” Ominis continued, his voice breaking slightly, “For what I did to you then, and for what my family has done to you now.” He gestured vaguely at the room around you, at the bands on your fingers, at everything that bound you to him against your will. “I… I know you hate me, and I accept that. I know you hate this—hate us—and I accept that too. But if you think for one second that I didn’t want this—that I didn’t want you—you’re wrong.”

You rose slowly from where you’d been kneeling, your movements deliberate, your frame tense. Your arms hung loosely at your sides, and your gaze settled on him, unreadable. Ominis didn’t move, didn’t speak. The silence between you stretched taut, heavy and unbearable, his breath shallow as he waited, his heart pounding fiercely in his chest.

Then, finally, you spoke, your voice quiet, almost hesitant. “So… you... don’t hate me?”

“No,” he said immediately, the word escaping before you’d even finished. “Never.”

You blinked at him, as though startled by his vehemence. For a moment, he thought that would be the end of it—that you would leave it at that. But then you took a step closer, your voice trembling slightly as you asked, “Then why did you…?”

You trailed off, but he knew exactly what you meant. Why did you push me away for years?

“Because I’m an idiot,” Ominis said, the words escaping him sharper than he intended. His voice cracked slightly as he exhaled shakily, lowering his head in a mixture of frustration and shame. “Because I let fear and pride cloud my judgment. And Merlin, it’s the biggest regret of my life.”

Ominis's throat tightened painfully, the words he’d held back for years clawing their way up to the surface. They pressed against his chest, demanding release, and for once, he didn’t push them down. What was the point? You were already married, bound by vows neither of you could escape—trapped in this twisted arrangement orchestrated by his family. There was no undoing it, no going back.

“Because... because I’ve always loved you,” he stammered, his voice faltering but steady enough to carry the truth. He lifted his head slightly, his sightless eyes turned toward you as though he could see the effect of his words. “Always.”

The weight of his confession hung heavy in the air, and the silence that followed was unbearable. The room felt suffocatingly still, every sound amplified in the oppressive quiet. He could hear the faint rush of blood in his ears, a relentless pounding that seemed to echo his racing thoughts. Even the soft cadence of his own uneven breathing felt deafening, filling the space as though to taunt him with the vulnerability he couldn’t take back.

“I…” you began, your voice unsteady, but you trailed off again, clearly struggling to find the words. “You… loved me?”

“Love,” he corrected softly. “Present tense.”

Your breath hitched, and he could hear the faint tremor in it. “Why... why didn’t you ever say anything?”

He hesitated, his hands tightening at his sides. “Because I was afraid,” he admitted. “Afraid you didn’t feel the same. Afraid of what it would mean if you did. I didn’t want you getting tied up with my family—with the Gaunts. I didn’t want you dragged into… into this.”

He gestured vaguely around the room, his frustration with himself evident in the sharpness of his movements. “Not that it ended up mattering,” he added bitterly.

You were silent again, and Ominis felt the weight of your hesitation like a physical thing pressing down on his chest. He’d said too much. He’d gone too far. And now—

“I wouldn’t have cared,” you said softly.

"...Pardon?”

“I wouldn’t have cared about your family,” you said again, your voice a little steadier now. “I never cared about any of that.”

Ominis's heart twisted painfully at your words, the faint flicker of hope they ignited almost too much to bear. “You…” He stopped, his voice faltering as he tried to process what you’d said. "You didn't?"

“No. In fact, I don’t care,” you continued, your voice quieter now, almost shy. “Present tense.”

Ominis felt as though the ground beneath him had shifted, his entire world tilting on its axis as his mind scattered, his carefully constructed thoughts unraveling at the edges. Present tense.

The implications swirled in his mind, overwhelming and impossible to fully grasp. If you didn’t care—if you truly didn’t care—then what did that mean? What did it say about the way you felt about him now?

“You mean…” he began, his voice faltering as he struggled to form the question that had lodged itself in his throat. “You mean you still…”

You looked away, a faint blush coloring your cheeks as you clasped your hands in front of you. “What I mean,” you began quietly, your voice barely audible. “Is that I... I love you too.”

Ominis thought he might collapse under the weight of your words. His head swam, his legs trembling as if they could no longer hold him upright. It was too much—too good to be true.

Surely, he’d imagined it.

This had to be some cruel trick of his mind, conjured from the depths of years of longing and guilt. Perhaps he was dreaming, caught in that fragile space between sleep and waking where impossible things felt real. Any moment now, he’d wake in his cold, oppressive bed at the Gaunt manor, the warmth of your voice nothing more than a fleeting echo in the dark.

But the longer he stood there, frozen and breathless, the clearer it became that this was no dream. You were still there, close enough that he could feel the faint warmth of your presence, the soft sound of your breathing in the silence.

“You…” His voice cracked, his grip on his wand tightening as though it were the only thing keeping him upright. “You love me?”

“Yes,” you said softly, unable to meet his eyes.

Ominis shook his head slightly, as though trying to shake loose the fog clouding his mind. “You… are you sure?”

“Yes, Ominis,” you said again, this time with a small, amused smile. The warmth in your voice should have soothed him, but instead, it sent his heart racing even faster.

“You’re serious. You… you lo—”

The words caught in his throat as you stepped closer, your movements soft but deliberate. The sudden proximity sent a shockwave through him, and what he was about to say dissolved on his tongue. The world narrowed until there was only you—the warmth of your presence, the faint rustle of fabric as you drew near, the soft sound of your breath mingling with his.

And then you kissed him.

The contact was gentle at first, tentative, as though testing the boundaries of a moment that neither of you could take back. But the moment his mind registered what was happening, something inside him snapped. Ominis dropped his wand, the dull thud barely registering in the haze of sensation that overtook him. His hands found your waist instinctively, trembling as they settled against you, holding you as though you might disappear if he let go.

It was everything—more than he had ever dared to imagine. The taste of you, the softness of your lips against his, the faint sigh you let out as you pressed closer. You were all he could feel, all he could think about, and the overwhelming reality of it, of you, left him breathless.

When you finally pulled away, his chest heaved, his forehead resting against yours as he struggled to find his breath.

“That story…” he murmured, his voice low and uneven. “The one you told at the reception. About Hogsmeade. Was it… was it true?”

You pulled back slightly, just enough for him to sense the shift in your posture. He couldn’t see your expression, but he could feel the heat rising from you, could hear the faint hitch in your breath.

“Yes,” you admitted softly, your voice tinged with embarrassment. “It was true.”

Ominis felt his knees nearly give out at the confirmation, his grip on your waist tightening reflexively. “Merlin,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “All this time…”

He swallowed hard, his throat tight as the weight of everything settled over him. The years he’d spent aching for you, the nights he’d lain awake tormenting himself with what-ifs—it all seemed so absurd now.

“You really…” He trailed off, shaking his head as though he couldn’t quite believe it. “You realized then?”

“At Hogsmeade?” you asked softly, your voice still tinged with shyness. You hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Yes... I did."

Ominis let out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh, his breath hitching as he shook his head slightly. “Because of some clothes?” he asked, the faintest trace of amusement coloring his voice. “Because I gave you my coat and bought you something dry to wear?”

"Sounds a lot less romantic when you say it like that," you mumbled, a hint of embarrassment coloring your voice. You glanced away, fidgeting slightly as though unsure how to explain yourself. “It wasn't just the clothes. I’d been falling you for some time, but I hadn’t really let myself acknowledge it. And then that day, it all just… clicked.”

His grip on your waist tightened slightly. “Clicked,” he repeated.

You swallowed hard as you cast your gaze downward. “You’ve always been… well, you, Ominis,” you began softly, your voice carrying a hesitant edge, as though you weren’t sure how much to say. “You, with your calm, your steadiness. Even when you’re angry, it’s controlled, measured, refined. It’s like you always know exactly what to do, like you were born knowing how to handle everything.”

He swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond to the quiet admiration in your voice. He’d spent so much of his life rejecting the parts of himself tied to his family’s legacy—the refinement, the composure, the quiet dignity that others associated with the Gaunt name. To hear you speak of it now, as though it were a part of him you valued, left him unsteady.

“And me?” you continued, your voice softening. “I’ve... I've never been like that. I’m messy. Emotional. I act too quickly and think too slowly. I’m… I don’t know. Chaotic, I guess.” You laughed softly, but there was no humor in it, just a quiet vulnerability that made Ominis’s chest ache.

“That’s not true,” he said quickly, his brow furrowing. “You’re—”

“What I’m trying to say is that you’ve always been my perfect opposite,” you continued gently, your voice carrying a faint edge of amusement. “My foil. You’re steady, and quiet, and level, and I’ve always felt like… like you even me out.”

Ominis’s heart twisted painfully at your words, the depth of your confession leaving him breathless. “You don’t need evening out,” he said softly, his voice trembling with emotion. “You’re brilliant just as you are.”

You gave a faint, self-deprecating laugh. “Well... that doesn’t change how I’ve always felt around you. Like you make me better. Like I can stand still and actually think when you're near.”

He was too overwhelmed to trust his voice, too unsure of how to put everything he felt into words. So instead, Ominis reached for you, his hand settling gently at the nape of your neck. And he held you there, his thumb brushing softly against your skin, his lips pressing a tentative kiss to your forehead.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was uneven, his voice quiet and raw as he asked, “Well, I’m here now. So… what are you thinking?”

You hesitated for a moment, your lips curving into the faintest smile. “I’m thinking…” You glanced toward the untouched bed before meeting his gaze again. “Maybe we can share the bed after all.”

"Is that so?" He murmured.

You nodded, your smile widening slightly. “Well, it’s a big bed. Plenty of room. And besides…” You reached for his left hand, spinning the wedding band around his finger. “You are my husband, after all.”

The words were light, teasing, but they sent a rush of warmth through Ominis that left him almost dizzy. He’d spent the entire day dreading what being your husband would mean, burdened by the weight of your resentment and his own guilt. But now, standing here with you, knowing you loved him, hearing you call him that—husband—filled him with an overwhelming, almost unbearable mixture of relief, joy, and hope.

Wordlessly, Ominis gently guided you toward the bed, his hand ghosted along your back. When you reached the edge of the mattress, he paused, his fingers brushing yours as he coaxed you to sit.

“Wait here,” he murmured softly, his voice warm and steady, though his chest was still tight with the weight of everything that had just happened.

Retrieving his wand from the floor, Ominis turned toward the small table where the champagne sat waiting, the chilled bottle glinting faintly in the soft lamplight. He reached for it with steady hands, though his heart was anything but calm. He needed the drink—something to take the edge off, to dull the sharp, almost unbearable clarity of this moment—the knowledge that you loved him, that he was about to share a bed with you not as strangers bound by duty, but as something far more significant.

Pouring the champagne into two crystal flutes, he turned back to you, carrying both glasses with a surprising steadiness for someone whose mind was in complete turmoil. Handing you one, he sat down beside you on the edge of the bed, closer than he’d dared to in years.

“To... new beginnings?” he offered softly, his voice carrying a tentative edge as he raised his glass slightly.

You hesitated for a moment, your gaze meeting his, before a small smile curved your lips. “To new beginnings,” you echoed, clinking your glass gently against his.

The crystal chime of the glasses meeting seemed to echo in the quiet room, a sound that felt impossibly delicate in the stillness between you. Ominis brought the glass to his lips, taking a small sip as his mind raced, the taste of the champagne crisp and cool against the tension still thrumming in his chest.

He inhaled deeply, steadying himself before speaking. “You looked…” His voice caught in his throat, hoarse and unsteady, and he cleared it softly before trying again. “You looked beautiful today.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and he could sense the faint blush that rose to your cheeks. “Ominis…” you began, but he shook his head, stopping you.

“I should’ve told you earlier,” he said quietly, his voice raw with sincerity. “You were… you are, the most stunning thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. I mean, um. Not that I can…” He trailed off, a faint, self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. “But I didn’t need to see you the way others do. I could feel it."

Your cheeks flushed faintly, and you glanced down at your own glass, swirling the champagne slightly as if to distract yourself. “Thank you,” you murmured, your voice soft but genuine.

“I mean it,” he said softly. “You have always been beautiful. And today, seeing you in that dress… it felt like I was dreaming. I still feel like I’m dreaming.”

A deep flush spread across your cheeks, the warmth creeping down your neck as his words lingered in the air. You didn’t respond right away, instead lifting your glass in a swift motion and draining the champagne in one determined gulp. Ominis raised a brow at your boldness, his expression hovering between amusement and surprise. Before he could say anything, you leaned forward, stretching across his lap to place your empty glass on the bedside table.

The unexpected contact sent a jolt through him. His entire body stiffened, his breath catching in his throat as your warmth seeped through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Sorry,” you murmured, glancing at him as you sat back.

“It’s… it’s fine,” he stammered, a rush of warmth crawling up his neck and settling in his cheeks. He gripped his champagne flute more tightly than necessary, the coolness of the glass a poor counterbalance to the fire you’d ignited in his veins.

“You seem… tense,” you remarked, your eyes narrowing slightly.

“Tense?” he repeated, forcing his voice to remain steady even as his grip on the flute tightened. “I’m not tense.”

“You’re holding that glass like it’s about to leap out of your hand,” you pointed out with a soft laugh, leaning in just slightly, your shoulder brushing his. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes,” he said quickly, though his voice cracked slightly on the word.

You hummed softly in response, your amusement now evident. “If you say so."

Ominis turned his sightless gaze in your direction, his throat tightening as he tried to summon a reply that wouldn’t betray the chaos now swirling inside him. But you spoke again before he could, your tone as casual as if you were discussing the weather.

“By the way,” you said with deliberate slowness, “did I ever tell you that you clean up very well?”

He froze, his pulse thundering in his ears. “I… I’m sorry?”

“You,” you said simply, your gaze flicking over him again in a way that made his skin prickle with awareness. “In your suit earlier. You looked very handsome.”

Ominis’s face burned. He gripped his glass tightly, taking another long sip to buy himself a moment to think. “Th-thank you,” he managed.

“You’re welcome,” you said, a faint smile tugging at your lips. You leaned back onto your hands, the bed giving under your weight. "You really are very attractive, Ominis," you added softly, the undercurrent of sincerity that making his heart ache.

You’d never complimented him like that before, never indicated whether you found him attractive or not, and the revelation was dizzying.

“Why are you—why are you saying this?” he asked, his throat tight.

“Because it’s true,” you said simply. “And because I can.”

Ominis exhaled shakily. “You’re... you're very bold."

“And you are shy,” you replied, a playful glint in your eye as you tilted your head toward him. “I told you it’s a good thing we balance each other out.”

He wasn’t sure whether to be flustered or comforted by the ease in your voice. The warmth radiating from you, the teasing lilt in your tone, and the sincerity beneath it all—it was overwhelming, intoxicating.

“You’re relentless,” he muttered.

"Because you make it so easy." You explained smoothly.

Ominis cleared his throat, trying desperately to maintain some semblance of composure. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about."

You tilted your head, eyeing him. “Oh, I think you do."

Before he could respond, you leaned forward again, reaching past him toward the small table beside the bed. But this time, your free hand rested on his thigh for balance, the contact sending heat through his veins and a gasp threatening to pass his lips.

“Let’s see…” you murmured thoughtfully, your fingers brushing against a book as you pulled it toward you. “Huh. A bible. Why do hotels always have these?”

Ominis barely heard your question, his attention consumed by the weight of your hand on his leg, the warmth of your palm seeping through the thin fabric of his pants. He swallowed hard, his throat dry, as he tried—and failed—to focus on anything other than the proximity of your body to his.

“I suppose it’s tradition,” he managed weakly.

“Perhaps you’re right,” you mused, flipping the book closed with an air of exaggerated disappointment. “Though you’d think they’d leave something more interesting. A mystery novel, maybe.”

You shifted slightly to flip open the pages of the book, humming thoughtfully, but your elbow caught Ominis’s arm, sending champagne spilling directly into his lap, the cool liquid soaking through the fabric and clinging uncomfortably to his skin.

“Shit!” you exclaimed, sitting up quickly, your hand flying to your mouth. “I’m so sorry. Let me—”

“It’s fine,” he said quickly, his voice strained as he tried to wave you off. “Really, I can—”

But you were already on your feet, grabbing a towel from the bathroom. Before he could protest further, you were kneeling in front of him on the floor.

“Let me help,” you insisted, your tone sweet but tinged with a something else that Ominis couldn’t quite place.

He stiffened further, his entire body locking up as your hand brushed dangerously close to the center of his lap.

“I-it’s fine, truly,” he stammered, his voice rising slightly in pitch. “You don’t need to—”

“Nonsense," you said lightly, shaking your head as you continued to blot the fabric. “It’s my fault.”

Ominis held in a groan, fighting to maintain even a shred of composure. Heat had already been pooling in his abdomen, a slow, insistent burn that now threatened to spiral out of control, but with your hands so dangerously close, with you kneeling before him, he felt as though his very sanity was slipping through his fingers.

His mind raced with a flood of thoughts—improper, indecent thoughts that he told himself he was far too much of a gentleman to entertain. And yet, he couldn’t stop them. Couldn’t stop imagining what it would feel like to give in, to let go of the rigid self-control that had defined so much of his life.

He bit down on the inside of his cheek. “Y-you really don’t need to,” he stammered, his voice cracking slightly as he shifted, trying in vain to create some distance between you. “I can handle it.”

“No, no," you murmured, your dabbing movements now turning into wiping motions. "Let me help.”

Help. The irony of the word wasn’t lost on him. If anything, your proximity, your touch, was undoing him entirely. And what was worse—what truly horrified him—was the knowledge that the evidence of his attraction would soon become blatantly, inescapably obvious.

His breath hitched as your hand brushed closer—too close—and he couldn't handle another moment.

Ominis shot to his feet so suddenly that it startled you, his wand clutched tightly in his trembling hand. The movement sent the towel slipping from your fingers as you instinctively leaned back, your wide eyes snapping up to meet his.

The image that his wand painted in his mind was delicious and utterly disastrous: you, on your knees before him, your hair slightly mussed, your lips slightly parted, and those impossibly wide eyes staring up at him.

He clenched his jaw, quickly lowering his wand, but no matter how hard he tried, the image wouldn’t leave him. It was burned into his mind, vivid and unrelenting.

Ominis opened his mouth, but his words came out as a jumble of incoherent stammers. “I—I’m sure the house elves packed… something—uh—extra pants.” His voice cracked slightly as he gestured vaguely toward the corner of the room where their bags were stacked. “I should—probably just—”

He moved to take a step, desperate to escape, but then your hands were on his thighs, stopping him mid-motion.

"Running off on me, are you?"

"I—I just thought—"

You tutted and gave him a gentle push, coaxing Ominis to sit back down on the edge of the bed. He resisted for a moment, but your persistence, combined with his legs trembling beneath him, left him with little choice. Slowly, he sank back down, his hands gripping at the sheets.

“There,” you said softly, your tone soothing yet carrying a playful undercurrent that made his pulse quicken. “That’s better.”

Better? Hardly. Ominis was certain he’d never been in a worse predicament in his life. You were now kneeling right between his legs, your hands still resting on his thighs, the heat of your palms searing through the thin fabric of his sleepwear.

He was painfully, achingly hard now, pressed uncomfortably against the fabric, and he knew—he knew—you must have noticed.

How could you not? You were so close, on your knees before him, your face dangerously near to the source of his torment. He clenched his jaw, his hands tightening into fists as he tried to will his body into submission, but it was no use. The evidence of his desire was blatant, inescapable.

And then, as if the situation wasn’t unbearable enough, you tilted your head slightly, feigning an expression of concern.

“You can’t be very comfortable like that,” you said softly, your voice laced with innocence. “Your pants, I mean. All damp and cold.” The corners of your mouth tugged into the faintest hint of a smile. “Maybe you should just take them off.”

Ominis stiffened. He knew exactly what you were doing—knew you weren’t nearly as innocent as you were pretending to be. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to call you out. Couldn’t bring himself to break the fragile thread of tension strung taut between you. Because some part of him—some reckless, desperate part of him—wanted to see how far you were willing to push him.

“I—I think I’ll just wait until—”

You leaned in slightly, your expression soft and oh-so-kind. “Until what?”

Ominis exhaled shakily, his hands tightening into fists. “Until I’m alone.”

Your eyebrows lifted slightly. “Alone?” you repeated, tilting your head as though the concept genuinely puzzled you. “Why? It's just me... and I'm your wife now, aren't I?"

His wife.

He swallowed hard. “You… you are,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But that doesn’t mean—”

“Doesn’t mean what?” you interrupted, trailing your hands further up his thighs. “That you can’t be comfortable around me? That you can’t let me take care of you?”

“Take care of me,” he repeated hoarsely, the word catching in his throat as his mind spiraled. He knew exactly what you were insinuating, and it was driving him to the brink of madness.

“Isn’t that what a good wife does?” you asked softly, your voice lilting as though you were enjoying this far too much.

Ominis swallowed hard, muttering your name. “…This is a dangerous game you're playing."

Your lips curved into a sly smile, your gaze never leaving his. “Is it?”

He forced himself to take a steadying breath. “You know exactly what you’re doing.

Your smile didn’t waver. If anything, it grew wider, teasing and entirely too confident for his fragile composure. “And what happens,” you asked, “if I keep playing?”

Your hands trailed upwards and his entire body went rigid, his fists tightening so hard that his knuckles ached.

And then you did it.

Your fingers hooked under the waistband of his pants, your touch light as you began to tug. And Ominis's composure shattered, the remainder of his control finally giving way.

He reached out, his hands catching your wrists and stilling your movements as he leaned down, his sightless gaze locked on you.

“Enough,” he said, his voice low, dangerous.

You blinked up at him, your playful smile faltering for the first time, though your eyes still held a glint of challenge. “Ominis—”

“Enough,” he repeated, his tone sharper this time. “You wanted to play a game, did you? Let me show you what it feels like to lose."

Ominis stood slowly, bringing your hands with him, guiding them back to the waistband of his pants. His breath was heavy, his voice low and rough when he spoke. “You started this,” he murmured, his tone carrying a dangerous edge that sent a shiver down your spine. “Now finish it.”

Your eyes widened, your earlier confidence faltering as you stared up at him. “Ominis, I—” you began, but he cut you off, his fingers tightening just slightly around your wrists.

“You wanted to see how far you could push me?” he muttered. “Congratulations. You found out. Now take them off."

You hesitated, your playful bravado faltering. This wasn’t the careful, reserved Ominis you were used to. This was someone raw, unguarded, and utterly unyielding.

But you had pushed him to this point, hadn’t you? Teased and taunted, knowing full well what you were doing. And now, you would face the consequences.

Your fingers trembled as they hooked under the waistband of his pants, tugging at the fabric. The damp material clung stubbornly to his skin, and the tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to choke on, but Ominis revelled in it, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

After a moment, the damp fabric finally gave way, sliding down his hips and pooling at his ankles, and for a moment, there was only silence.

Ominis tilted his head slightly, his fingers trailing along your jaw. “No teasing comments, hm? Not so bold now, are you?"

“I…” You hesitated, your breath hitching. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to what?” he interrupted smoothly, his fingers ghosting along your skin. “Tease me? Push me? Make me want you until I could barely think straight?”

Your eyes widened, your lips parting in shock at his bluntness. He tilted his head slightly, his smirk deepening as he took in your reaction.

“Because if that’s the case,” he continued, his voice dropping even lower, “then you failed. Now... where were you?"

He reached for your hands again, skimming them along his legs before hooking them into the fabric of his underwear. Your lips parted, a soft, unsteady exhale escaping as you gazed up at him.

“Go on,” he urged, his tone leaving no room for argument.

With a shaky breath, you complied with his demand, the fabric yielding beneath your touch as you began to tug it down past his hips and over the hard length of him.

Ominis’s breath hitched, his jaw tightening as he fought to maintain his composure. His one hand found your shoulder, the other tangling in your hair as you freed him from the confines of his underwear, the cool air of the room brushing against his heated skin.

He could feel your gaze moving over him, taking in every inch of his body. He didn't need to see her to know exactly what you were looking at. He could feel her hesitation, the quickening pace of your breathing, and it stirred something deep inside him.

"Like what you see?" His voice was low and rough. It wasn't a question so much as a challenge, a dare for her to speak the truth he already knew.

There was a pause, a moment where he could feel her nerves battling with her desire. Then her voice came, soft and trembling, yet unmistakably honest. "Yes. I… Ominis, you're... fuck, you're so big.”

Her words hit him like a spark to dry kindling, igniting a fire he could barely contain. A slow, wicked smile curled his lips as his confidence swelled at the admission. He let his thumb trace the curve of your jaw, the movement gentle even as his grip on your neck tightened slightly, coaxing you closer.

Your hands trembled against his thighs, and he felt you hesitate again. That flicker of uncertainty was intoxicating, drawing out the predator in him that wanted to take his time unraveling you.

"I don't even know if I can..." you whispered,

"Oh, you can," he said, his voice a mix of promise and challenge. "And you will. Open your mouth."

Your lips parted without hesitation, your trust in him making something primal surge within his chest. Ominis let out a low, satisfied chuckle as he guided you toward him with deliberate care. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice thick with approval.

He could feel your breath ghosting over him, the slight tremor in your shoulders betraying her nervousness. But when your lips finally made contact, wrapping around him with warmth and softness, a sharp groan tore from his throat. The wet heat of your mouth was intoxicating, your tongue brushing against the sensitive underside of him sending jolts of pleasure rippling through his core.

He groaned, his voice low and gravelly, unrestrained. "God, you feel so good... yes, just like that."

His grip in your hair tightened, controlling your movements as he adjusted the angle with a firm but gentle tug. Each movement was controlled, his hips rocking forward slightly before pulling back just enough to keep you comfortable.

A low moan escaped him as your tongue flicked against the head of his cock, every slight drag of your lips sending waves of pleasure radiating through him like fire. His head tipped back briefly, a ragged exhale slipping from his lips.

"Relax your throat," he ordered breathlessly, his thumb brushing lightly against her cheek. "Let me in. Let me feel you take all of me."

You responded instantly, a muffled moan escaping as you took him deeper, the vibrations sending a shockwave of pleasure through Ominis that left him teetering on the edge. His control slipped, and his hips jerked forward instinctively, driving himself further into the warmth of your mouth. The way your throat tightened around him, the way you surrendered so completely to his lead—it was undoing him, igniting a raw, primal need he couldn't restrain.

"I’m close," he breathed, his thumb brushing against your chin. "Keep going. Don't fucking stop."

Your kept pace, and every sensation sharpened, from the slick slide of your lips to the pressure of your tongue and the slight resistance of your throat.

Ominis's body shuddered violently when the tension coiled tight within him finally snapped, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as his hips pressed forward, forcing you to take his release. He groaned your name, his voice raw and broken, the sound laced with unrestrained pleasure as waves of his release surged through him. He felt you swallow, the rhythmic pull of your throat around him drawing out every last bit of his pleasure and leaving him utterly wrecked.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” he rasped, his voice hoarse and uneven as he brushed his thumb gently against your chin, a subtle caress full of approval. “So perfect.”

His breaths came in uneven gasps as the intensity began to ebb, though the memory of your mouth on him lingered, searing itself into his mind. The slick warmth of you, your complete submission to him, was something he knew he'd spend his life chasing.

Finally, his grip loosened in your hair, and with a soft, wet pop, he pulled himself from your mouth, the absence of your warmth almost jarring. His legs trembled as he lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed, his body still buzzing. Yet, even in his post-climactic haze, his hands remained steady, tracing the curve of your jaw with a reverence that felt entirely at odds with the raw dominance he'd displayed moments before.

“Are you alright?” he asked breathlessly, tilting your chin up to brush his thumb over your swollen lips.

Your breath was shallow, quick, and he could feel the faint tremor in your body under his hands. When you didn’t immediately answer, his brow furrowed. He withdrew his hand and reached for his wand.

The image of you that materialized made his breath catch—your breathing ragged, your cheeks flushed a deep, fiery red, your lips parted as you struggled to catch your breath, your eyes glassy.

He breathed your name, his voice tinged with worry as he cupped your face again. “I—I didn’t hurt you, did I? Please, tell me I didn’t hurt you.” His fingers brushed your hair back, searching for any sign of discomfort, his unseeing eyes filled with an almost frantic need for reassurance.

You blinked slowly, as if coming out of a haze, and the smallest of smiles tugged at your lips. Your breath hitched, and when you finally spoke, your voice was rough and shaky. “No,” you managed,“No, you didn’t hurt me.”

He let out a shaky exhale. “Are you sure you’re alright? Please tell me the truth.”

You nodded, your unsteady, watery smile sending a wave of relief coursing through Ominis, the tension in his chest easing ever so slightly. But that smile—soft, trembling, and paired with the glassiness in your eyes—made his heart falter for an entirely different reason. He had pushed you close to your limit; that much was undeniable. The sheen in your gaze spoke of intensity, perhaps even moments of overwhelming vulnerability. And yet, the faint curve of your lips said it all—you’d liked it.

You had trusted him so completely, surrendered so fully, giving yourself over to him for his pleasure, even when it stretched the boundaries of your comfort.

It was a realization that hit him hard, an almost overwhelming surge of emotion he wasn’t prepared for.

But Ominis couldn’t allow himself to dwell on it now. There was something far more important to focus on—taking care of you.

Ominis inhaled deeply, centering himself as he rose from the edge of the bed. He pulled back the covers with a smooth motion and turned back to you, his expression softening as he reached for you. “Come here,” he said gently.

Reaching down, his arms slid around you, steady and secure, as he helped you up from where you knelt on the floor. One hand pressed lightly against the small of your back, the other brushing against your arm as he guided you onto the bed.

Once you were settled, he tucked the covers around you, his hands lingering for a moment, brushing along your arm before moving to your face.

“There we are,” he murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair away as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “You’re alright,” he assured, though it felt as much for him as it was for you. “I’ve got you.”

Your voice, hoarse and barely above a whisper, cut through the quiet. “Ominis, you can stop fussing. I’m alright.”

He froze for a moment, his lips curving into a faint smile as a soft chuckle escaped him. “You’re alright, are you?” he asked, his tone a blend of teasing and disbelief. “You can barely speak. Forgive me if I’m not entirely convinced.”

You rolled your eyes weakly, the smallest of smiles tugging at your lips. “I mean it,” you said, your voice still raspy. “I’m okay."

He shifted closer to the edge of the bed as he adjusted the covers once more, making sure they were snug around you. “You need water," he decided, his brow furrowing slightly.

Before you could protest, he was already moving, locating a glass and filling it at the bathroom sink. He returned swiftly, slipping one hand beneath the back of your neck to help you sit up just enough. The other hand brought the glass to your lips.

“Drink,” he murmured softly.

You sipped obediently and he smiled softly, chest rising and falling with a quiet steadiness now that he knew you were truly alright.

"You were so good," he murmured, as his fingers trailed down to your jaw, tilting your face slightly upward. "Do you have any idea how amazing you felt?"

He leaned closer, his lips finding the flushed heat of your cheek, pressing soft, lingering kisses there, each one accompanied by a murmured word of praise. “So perfect,” he whispered between kisses, his voice low and reverent. "So well behaved."

His lips trailed to your other cheek, brushing against the soft skin as he continued. “It was overwhelming in the best way possible. The way you felt, the way you took me—it was more than I could have ever imagined.”

You hummed softly, the sound a mixture of contentment and satisfaction as his lips trailed across your flushed skin. A shaky hand lifted from beneath the covers, reaching out to find his cheek, your fingers trembling slightly as you guided his lips to yours.

The kiss was a whisper, soft and delicate, barely more than a brush of your lips against his. Ominis exhaled against your mouth, his breath warm and steady, a low hum of contentment escaping him as he leaned into you. His hand slid from your jaw to the nape of your neck, cradling you as his lips moved against yours.

Your lips barely parted from his as you whispered against them, your voice still raspy but filled with quiet conviction, “I love you.”

The words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, Ominis stilled, as though trying to convince himself they were real. Then, his breath hitched, and he pressed his forehead against yours.

“I love you, too,” he murmured in return, his voice trembling with emotion. “Merlin, I love you so much. I always have.” He paused, his unseeing eyes searching for something he couldn’t quite articulate. “After everything, after all this time… I never dared to hope we’d find each other again like this.”

You smiled faintly, your thumb stroking his cheek as you closed the small distance between you for another kiss, your lips speaking what words couldn’t.

Ominis pulled back slowly, his fingers brushing through your hair one last time before he adjusted the covers around you. He slipped into bed beside you, his movements careful, his body naturally finding yours as his arms slid around you, drawing you close. Your head nestled against his chest, your breath warm against his neck, and he felt your heartbeat, steady and sure, beneath his hand.

As he held you, Ominis let his mind wander, reflecting on everything that had brought you both to this moment. The pain, the distance, the longing—it had all been worth it for this, for you. A soft, contented sigh escaped him as he pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head.

As he closed his eyes, his grip on you tightening slightly in an unconscious promise to never let you go again, a single thought echoed in his mind: This is where I’m meant to be. With you. Always.

Divider Credit

[eddiesxangel]

Redemption| Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: after committing a petty crime, Eddie is forced to work community at a retirement home; what he didn’t expect was the pretty girl at the front desk, you. This is so self-indulgent don't come for me

Word count: 3.8k

Cw: mutual pining, male masturbation, Perv!Eddie, Dom!Eddie/ Sub!reader, unprotected sex, corruption kink? breeding kink, sex at work. (Briefly proofread)

An: after 85 years I finally got around to finishing this! It’s not where I thought it would go originally bc it was just suppose to be a fluff piece but the horny gremlin took over

Boredom wasn't even a way to describe how you were feeling. The phones were dead, the day had been dragging on, and it was not even 12:00pm. The residents of the home were also not doing you any favours. Having to repeat yourself about six times in a row at the top of your lungs was starting to get old; your day had just not been going the way you wanted. Any other day, you'd be happy to help, happy to repeat yourself, but today was not one of those days. You were irritated and annoyed; your work bestie was off today, so you couldn't even complain to her about your shit day.

 A sigh of relief fills you when the phone rings, a rare occasion, but today has been so slow you were begging for something to do.

 "Sunny Acres Retirement Home! How may I help you?"  your customer service voice was overly sweet, too sweet. However you can't seem to turn it off, being the people pleaser that you are. 

"Jesus Christ'' You hear mumbled from the other end of the line. 

"Hello? How can I help you?" you roll your eyes, having to repeat yourself, but keep up the chipper act.

 "Yeah, listen, I was assigned to do community hours at this place, and I need to talk to a manager." Damn, this guy had an attitude. 

"Yeah! Sure thing. Can I get your name, please?"

 "Seriously?" 

What the fuck crawled up this guy's ass?

"It's company policy, Sir." You rolled your eyes again, not wanting to deal with more bullshit.

"Eddie"  

"One moment, Eddie, I'll transfer your call." You put him on hold and transferred him to the manager with a good luck warning. 

The next day, you were in much better spirits; your work bestie was with you, it was casual Friday, and you were allowed to wear jeans instead of business casual attire.

It was around 1:00pm when you saw Chief Hopper walk in accompanied by someone you had not recognized. 

"Hey Hopps," you greet him with a smile.

"Hey, you." He said with a smile.

You and Chief Hopper had a friendly relationship because you're close friends with his girlfriend's oldest, Jonathan.  

"To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Brought in another delinquent for you to roughhouse into shape" he steps out of the way.

Your giggle dies as you lock eyes with the prettiest boy you've ever seen. 

"This is Edward; he is here to complete two hundred hours of community service, and he will be starting today."

"It's Eddie," you hear him mumble under his breath. 

Oh so this is the jackass you spoke to on the phone yesterday... a really cute jackass.

He looked to be around your age, but you didn't recognize him. You'd only been in town since the second half of senior year, hating your parents for making your move to a new school so close to graduating. You have been in Hawkins  six years now you're here working 9-5 as a receptionist at Sunny Acres Retirement Home.

"Nice to meet you, Eddie." You introduce yourself and proceed to call the manager to let her know he is here. Once Hopper leaves and your manager shows him around, you immediately call your best friend, Robin's, extension.

"Get over here now! We have a code, hottie," you whisper into the phone. Whenever you see a cute person enter the building, whether it be adult grandchildren, paramedics, or firefighters, you always let one another know when there is one on the premises. No less than two minutes later, she approaches your desk.

"Where are they?"

" There," you point to the dining room directly across from your desk as he is being given a tour of the building.

"Eddie Munson?!" she half yells before covering her mouth. 

"You know him?" you ask excitedly.

"Know him? He's the town freak," she scoffs.

"I'm sure he is a freak, alright?" You wiggle your brows at her." 

"I'm serious! He's bad news." 

"Clearly, he is doing community service hours." 

"Seriously? That is what you're into?" she giggles.

"I don't know? There is something about him?" You bite your lip as you check him out from afar. He turns back to walk towards you, and you quickly look away, not wanting to be caught.

You've always been into bad boys, but your golden retriever, good girl image, always scared them away.

Eddie notices you staring at him because you're not very subtle.  He isn't mad that he caught you staring because he felt that you were checking him out rather than judging him. Unlike your co-worker standing beside you...

Just his luck, he recognized Robin from high school. She was always neutral towards him and didn't say much, but he knew how the people in this town operated. She would turn you against him in no time.

"Buckley." He nodded.

"Munson," she mimicked back.

You watched the scene play out, hoping she would introduce you. Wrong. She goes straight in for the kill.

"My friend thinks you're cute." She points her thumb at you, and you immediately slap her shoulder as a gut reaction.

"Robin?!" you scold her. Mortified about what she admitted to him just to break an awkward silence, you feel like you want the ground to swallow you whole. 

Eddie gives you a cocky smirk before the manager comes back to continue with the tour. 

"Why do you hate me? Did I do something?  Are you punishing me?" you whine. 

"You know I just blurt out things when I get uncomfortable!" 

All you can do is roll your eyes, you loved the girl, but she could be really dense. 

Eddie couldn't stop thinking about your brief interaction all night. Was Robin telling the truth? Did you really think he was cute? Or was she teasing? He hoped that she had grown up since high school and was telling the truth because he also thought you were cute, like really, really cute. He hadn't seen you before, and Hawkins was a small town; he must have known you from somewhere? He wraps his brain around any memories of your face, but he comes up empty. He had to find out more about you. He needed to know you. Something about you infatuated him so much. He thought about how your body looked in the adorable outfit you had on. He thought about what was under the outfit to... Maybe being forced to volunteer his time at Sunny Acres wouldn't be the worst thing that happened to him after all...

The next day, you were assigned to show Eddie some of the duties he was to do for the residents. Talk to them, run bingo, help them with their phone if the line was giving them any trouble, or their TV if they put in the wrong input, serve them beverages, and get to know them and keep them company. A lot of them don't have families or anyone to come visit them. The staff are their family. That was the main reason you stayed at this job for so long. 

Eddie was quiet the whole orientation. The tension from yesterday was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Small talk was not your strong suit; you dreaded it, but you also really wanted to talk with Eddie, so you went for it.

"So what did they book you for? Steal candy from a kid on the playground?" trying to make light of the situation. 

"Murder," he deadpans to you.

"Ha ha. Nice try. They don't give community hours to murderers." you couldn't keep your eyes on the task in front of you.

He was dead silent, but you could feel his eyes burning into you.

"Okay, don't tell me; I'll just keep guessing until you do." you gave a cheeky smile, trying to lighten the mood. 

Another eye roll was shot your way, but you swore you saw a glint of something behind those eyes. 

"So what was it? Trespassing? Vandalism? shoplifting? Public intoxication? Speeding?" you raise a brow at him.

 Eddie just smirked and shook his head as you interrogated him. Your bubbly personality was nothing compared to his. He noticed how you would light up the room when you walked in. The residents of the home adored you, and he could see why. You were one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen; your eyes sparkled, and he loved how you styled yourself. He wasn't used to being so infatuated by someone so cutesy. He noticed you wore a lot of pink and has yet to see you in anything black. He thought of what you would look like with black underwear... then he snapped back out of his thoughts. He tried to think of something less sexy, but as he was trying to do so, your top slipped down when you went to reach for the deck of cards across from you. He caught a glimpse of the frilly light yellow bra you had on under your top.

Eddie noticed the room was getting hotter, or was that just him? You made him nervous; he didn't want to embarrass himself in front of you more than he already has. He felt shame that we had to be waltzed in here by the chief of police, never mind what offence he committed. So he stayed quiet, not wanting the next thing to come out of his mouth to be offensive or crass. So he kept quiet, not saying anything or indulging in the conversation more than he had to.

Another week went by, and you still hardly spoke to Eddie. Work was unbelievably slow yet again. you thought that would give you a chance to speak with Eddie, but you hardly had time to see him because the residents kept hogging him. That was until your manager asked for you to help with the Bingo because everyone decided to show up today. Eddie was in charge of rolling and placing, and you were in charge of announcing and checking.

This was it, this was your chance to speak to him...

"How do you like it here so far?"

"It's fine I guess." He mumbled. 

"Everyone really loves you." You smiled.  

Eddie gave you a look that said what the fuck?

“No really! … Do you not like it here?” What you were really asking was do you not like being around me?

"Don't you get it? How can I serve these snotty rich people when all they do is look down on someone like me?"

"Eddie, are you blind? The residents love you." 

Eddie scoffs at your confession. "I'm serious! When you are gone, Pat always asks where you are! And Linda always refers to you as her boyfriend, and I overheard Martha and June arguing over who got to braid your hair next. You're a real ladies' man around here," You giggle. 

"A ladies man you say?" his mood slowly changes as he smirks at you. That made you blush, the heat rose to your cheeks as you looked away bashfully. He was just so pretty… and the way he looked at you like how he is now is making you so shy.

"Yeah, I'm kinda jealous of Linda, if I'm honest." You flirt. You feel like your stomach was in your ass by the time you finished the sentence.

-

"What's the next number! come on!" Bob yelled from the table. You had completely forgotten about the game.

Small glances were stolen throughout the following weeks.  You would feel the heat rise to your cheeks every time he caught you, and you couldn't tell if he found it endearing or annoying. You never got a response out of Eddie after your admission to being jealous over an eighty-three-year-old.

Eddie definitely thought it was endearing and he can't seem to get you out of his head. He would think about you when he was alone in his room at night. He would think about how you always smelled like marshmallows, how your hair looked so cute with the little bow you put in it occasionally, or how you tease him by wearing those short skirts with stockings underneath. He knew you were teasing him. Everyone else bought the Goodie Two Shoes act, but not Eddie. He saw right through it, and he was fed up. He felt like if he didn't have you, he would actually explode.

Eddie had been watching you from afar this whole time. He would sneak around your desk, finding things he could take home with him as a keepsake. Like little doodles you would leave out, or the pen you were using, or your lip balm. The best was when you left your purse out, and he got a chance to take the travel-size perfume that was lying there on top of everything. There was a reason he got booked for defacing public property and not theft. Theft he was good at.

Eddie sprayed his pillow with your perfume and then used your lip balm that smelled and tasted like strawberries, fuck, everything about you was so sweet: your personality, looks and smell, even your fucking lip balm. He thought about how his lips were touching the thing that touched yours as he applied it to his own, and his dick got hard. Then he thought about how your strawberry lips would look around his hard cock.

You were taking over Eddie's senses as he began to tug at his cock. He thought about how he would love to flip up your skirt and fucking you in one of the empty rooms. His imagination ran wild. He thought about your voice, how your tits would look bouncing in that frilly yellow bra he got a peek at. He wanted you in every position, especially under him. He knew you would be the perfect little sub for him. He needed you to be; he was so close to cumming. He thought about you crying from how much you needed his cock to fill you. He thought about how good you would look and feel swallowing his cock. He needed to take what he thought, no needed to believe, was your virgin pussy.

Eddie came so hard that night, the first night he indulged in his fantasies of you with your smell lingering in the air of his room. The mix of your sent with his was too much. He needed you, and he would do anything to try and get you.

"Ok, I can't take this anymore, you need to talk to him." Robin shook her head. 

"And say what?" 

"Yo Munson, come here!" 

"Robin!" You scolded.  

As Eddie approached, you felt your heart rate go up; you could hear the blood pumping in your ears. What on earth was she going to say now? 

"Okay, I can't take watching you two dance around one another any longer." "She thinks you're cute. Okay..." Robin gestured to you. "Do you think she is cute?"

Eddie didn’t say anything, he just slowly nodded his head.

The tension broke when the shrill of phone ring broke you out of your trance and shook you a little. You just stared at the phone and Robin butted in.

“I’ll take it, you take your lunch” she gave you a wink and you looked to Eddie.

“I could eat.” and he wasn't talking about the chicken they were serving for lunch.

You felt your stomach do a flip-flip; you heard the insinuation in his tone.

"Um, uh- yeah. Okay." You cleared your throat and went to find an empty room for some privacy.

You guided Eddie up to the eighth floor. There were a lot of vacant rooms up there, and hardly anyone went in the west wing since no one was living there yet. The elevator ride up was silent; you felt an awkwardness, like Eddie was looking into your soul even though he wasn't even looking at you... The elevator dinged, and Eddie let you step out first, guiding him to the privacy he yearned for.

809 Eddie read on the door as you fumbled with the lock and key. Finally, you opened the lock and guided him inside. The room was completely empty; it echoed a little as your footsteps filled it.

"So..." You started but Eddie had no time for talking. He wanted you and he wanted you now.

Eddie surprised you by cupping your face and kissing you passionately. No one had ever kissed you like this before; it was strong and hard but also careful.

"You have no idea what you do to me, sweetheart." He spoke into your mouth. The kissing got more and more sensual. You ran your hands up his middle before you knew what was happening he quickly turned you around and pressed you up against the wall.

"You think it's cute? Teasing me for weeks with your sweet little outfits?" Eddie's hand was wrapped around your mouth to keep you quiet as his fingers explored you meat of your ass.

"Mmmmmph" You were so scared someone would find you in the empty suite, but it also turned you on more than expected.

"What was that sweetheart? I didn't quite catch that?" His fingers found the waistband of your stockings and pulled them and your panties down with one swift motion. His hand loosened its grip on your jaw so you could speak.

"N-no," You whimpered. This was turning you on way more than it should. You thought you would come up here to talk; maybe he would ask you out on a date. You never thought you would be fucking!

"I don't believe you."

You felt your skirt flipped up and a cool breeze on your wet pussy.

"Tell me, sweetheart, has anyone ever filled this pussy?" Eddie asked as he ran a single finger through your wet folds.

"Yes," You admit shakily. You gripped Eddie's wrist of the hand that was clamped around your throat.

Eddie can't say he was surprised that you’ve had men before him. You were beautiful, smart, funny, adorable. It's too bad you had to be with them before he got a taste.

"What a shame you've had to suffer through that before meeting me, babydoll."

"Why is that?" you ask bravely.

Eddie chuckled darkly... "Because baby, I'm about to ruin you for all men."

That made you gulp. You can't believe you were about to fuck your crush in the middle of the work day. You didn't do stuff like this! you were a good girl, a rule follower.

Before you could think anymore about the consequences, Eddie, he slipped his throbbing cock into your needy pussy.

"Holy fuck!" You screamed, and Eddie's hand clamped back down over your mouth to keep you quiet.

Just when Eddie didn't think you could get any hotter, the curse word you let slip from your mouth made his cock twitch inside of you.

"Fuck me, you stretch me out so good," You whine, and Eddie thinks he will bust a nut right then and there. His perfect little angel had the mouth of a whore.

"Yes, you like that, don't you, you dirty little slut." Eddie jerked his hips up into you. It was sharp and hard and hit that delicious spot inside you each time. “You wanna be my good girl? Or my bad girl?”

“Good- oh fuck- good girl. I want to be your good girl!”

“That shut the fuck up and take it like I know you can”

"oh my god, you're so big." Your eyes rolled back into your head as he became more controlled with his rhythm. His hands gripped your hip, and he wrapped his hand in your hair, yanking your head back like he was riding you.

The view Eddie had was your ass bounced off his cock was making his head spin. He knew you would hand a perfect pussy. It was his now and only his.

"This pussy is mine now, understand? Im going to fill this pussy so good you won't know what to do for days. The only thing you're going to be thinking of is me and my fat cock."

All you could do was moan in response. "Yea you like that you dirty little whore. You like that I own this pussy now…” Eddie slowed down, he rolled his hips slowly into your pussy and he swore he saw the light “You have everyone convinced you're a goodgirl but all you are is a cumslut. Tell me how much you want my cum coating your walls"

"I want it so bad!" you cried.

You've never had a dick like this before. Eddie was right, he's ruined you for all men and he hadn't even made you cum... yet. You had full faith that he was able to do so because you could feel it. The warm fuzzy feeling was bubbling up in your core. Eddie had picked up the pace at your omission, and fuck if he wasn’t hitting your g spot with each delicious stroke of his cock hitting your walls.

"Fuck I'm going to cum!" You scream, all caution thrown to the wind, you'd forgotten where you were. The only thing you could think of was Eddie and his delicious cock.

"Fuck yes, babydoll. Come on this cock." Eddie's hand let go of your hair and wrapped it around your throat, pulling you flush to his body.

"More" You whisper.

"Greedy greedy girl."

"Please" You begged. You needed him to touch you.

"There is my good girl." His hand that had gripped your hip slid down and started playing with your swollen clit and your legs almost gave out.

"Next time, I'm keeping my word, and I'm going to eat this pretty little pussy." Eddie growled.

That did it for you; your inner walls squeezed, and you felt your orgasm rush through you. Eddie trusted in you as your body convulsed around him.

"Fuck you're so fucking tight," Eddie grits through his teeth, and he fights off his impending orgasm. He doesn't want this moment to end, he wants it to last forever. What if this is the last chance he has to feel your pussy wrapped around him?

"Please, Eddie, I want your cum! I want your cum so fucking bad, my pussy needs it."

That did it for Eddie, he let go and his hot seed was being shot into you with a roar.

After minutes of silence and heavy breathing, Eddie bent down and pulled up your panties and stockings for you, trapping his cum with it. You turn slowly, afraid to look him in the eyes, but Eddie doesn't allow it. He brings your cin up, guiding your eyes to look into his.

"Don't shy away from me now, babydoll. You're going to go back down to the lobby and finish the rest of your work day knowing my cum is going to be seeping through your pretty little panties, ok?" He ordered, and you dumbly nodded your head, still fucked out by the amazing dick you just received.

"Good girl" Eddie patted your ass, and you walked to the elevator with wobbly legs. Eddie laughed and held you stand straight before letting go before you reached the first floor.

You returned from your break fifteen minutes later than allotted, but Robin covered for you. You couldn't even look her in the eyes, and she knew you got freaky with the freak of Hawkins.

[lqveharrington]

If Only | L.M.

summary: You and Lucifer were bond through the soulmate system, but how could you be soulmates when he had Lilith?

pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x fallen seraphim!reader

includes: kinda soulmate au? fluff, angst, mentions of death, lucifer feeling like a bad parent (that’s pretty much it, let me know if i missed any!)

a/n: i wrote this at night the other day. toward the very end i was very proud of what i wrote 😭🙏 time for my requests i’ve gotten !!!

Ever since Lilith left Lucifer seven years ago, he never expected to meet another who made his heart soar. He fell into a deep state of depression and only started to get out more when Charlie invited him to stay at the hotel after the latest extermination. He got his own royal suite and joined in on Charlie’s lessons, but it still wasn’t enough to keep up with his daughter’s upbeat attitude every day.

It wasn’t enough to help pull him out of his depression until you came along to the hotel.

The moment you stepped into the hotel and greeted Charlie with the same enthusiasm made him smile. It was just another plus that you were a fallen angel, more so a fallen seraphim. And he swore that when you first met his gaze for that split second your eyes glowed pink as he felt his eyes do the same. He thought that would never happen again, but here he stood with an adoring face while you spoke to his daughter like you’ve known her since she was a child.

Soon enough, you and Lucifer were introduced to one another properly, the pink glow in both your eyes returning.

“It’s nice to meet the head man himself.” You grin as he kisses the back of your hand. “And such a gentleman as well.”

“What can I say? I’m quite the ladies' man.” He winked as he saw you burn bright.

As months passed since your first official interaction, you and Lucifer grew closer, bonding on your similar and different experiences. Whether you bonded over one of Charlie’s redemption activities or relaxed in his suite, you both found contentment in each other, letting each other enjoy the company.

“You know, I’m not going to relax when you keep tugging my book away.” You grab his wrist as he reaches for the book for the nth time in thirty minutes. “I’m going to leave your room.”

“Please don’t.” He tugged you closer to his side, head resting on your shoulder. “I don’t want to move from this spot again.”

You tilt your head toward him, eyes glowing a faint pink. “Then let me read.” You let a small smile slip through when he grumbled an incoherent sentence.

Lucifer’s eyes softened when you returned to read your book, watching your eyes scan the words in front of you. His mind and heart racing a million miles per hour whenever you were around. He couldn’t decide what was right. Was his heart telling him to move on? Or was it just aching to be affectionate with another?

The signs were pointing in different ways, but surely the answer was right in front of him. He just had to understand what it was before the magic between you two would fully disappear.

“Staring is highly distracting, Luce.” Your eyes flit up to meet him again. “I can’t focus.”

“You must really like me then.” He gave you a cocky grin

You roll your eyes, shutting the book. “You’ve ruined the book for me. I’m never going to finish that book now.”

“That book wasn’t good anyways.” He brought the comforter up and over the both of you. He locked his arms around your waist, pulling your back to his front. You felt yourself loosen up by his touch, letting out a small breath of exhaustion. “I’m spent after all the bonding activities today, beautiful. I think we can skip our kitchen run tonight and just go to bed.”

“Were you really waiting for me to finish reading so we could sleep?” You murmur as you feel him nod. You let out a small laugh, “Wow, I would have never stooped so low.”

Lucifer shushed you, “I’m sleeping, good night.”

A soft smile takes over your burning face, turning in his arms to face him. “Good night, Luce.”

He didn’t say anything else but quietly played with your hair, listening to your steady breathing as sleep consumed you. Lucifer always made sure you fell asleep first, wanting you to get a good night's sleep before he did. Yet, he didn’t exactly know when you both went from friends to whatever this was, but he wasn’t complaining if he got to see you sleep in his arms every once in a while.

And it wasn’t like Lucifer was the only one to notice your unusual relationship with one another. You noticed it as well. From the soft touches to the sleepovers at his suite, you knew it was more than just a simple friendship. But what could you do when he still wore his wedding ring?

“What’s happening?” You lay your legs across Lucifer’s lap, taking a glance at the news channel cast upon his suite’s television.

Lucifer rubbed your calf, golden ring a cold contrast to his warm fingers. “They’re interviewing Charlie for her hotel. They know how the extermination happened this year, so I’m hoping the questions are more targeted toward how her hotel will work than how it was fighting angels.”

You frown at the feel of his ring, even more so when he mentions the death of angels. “What happened the last time they interviewed her?”

He scoffed, “They were so rude to her. I mean, I understand we’re in Hell, but she’s their fucking princess. They only brought down her ideas, not asking enough about how she intends to accomplish redemption. I wish I could have done something back then, you know? Show them why I’m the King of Hell.”

You reach across to link a hand with his, giving him a small smile when he meets your glowing pink eyes that match his pair. “Luce, you’re a wonderful parent. I know you want to protect your daughter, but it’s in the past. She knows you love her and look at you two now! You’re supporting her dreams and whatever lies in store for them.”

“Thank you…” He felt the golden ring become heavy on his finger, an uncomfortable weight that was never there appearing. “You’re not half bad of a parent yourself.”

“What?” You let out a confused laugh, thumbing his hand. “I’m not anyone’s parent.”

“Yeah, but—“ He gestured toward the television where they switched the camera toward Charlie before switching to a quick commercial break. “—You've been more of a mother to Charlie than her biological mother in one year. The second you stepped into this hotel, she lit up around you.” His downturned smile grew bigger when you tilted your head. “Charlie may be a very trusting person, but she knows when someone is going to support her with anything she accomplishes. You were one of those people.”

You feel yourself warm at the small confrontation, “I’m sure she thinks of me as any other resident at the hotel, Luce. Don’t boost my ego, you have enough for the both of us.”

“Hey now.” He squeezed your leg. “I’m being nice, and you’re just hurling insults at my face.”

“Me? Never.”

He continued to rub a small pattern, thoughts running back and forth before turning back to you. “I’m serious though. She really loves you… Almost as much as I do.”

Your eyes widened, meeting his eyes that were now glowing a much brighter pink than usual. “You… I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I admire you a lot, beautiful.” He confessed, confidence boosting his voice. “Ever since I laid my eyes on you, and not just because of your looks. You handled Charlie better than I did in the last seven years, and I couldn’t ask for a better person to let her be herself when I’m not around.”

Your eyes glowed brighter at his words, squeezing his hand. “Lucifer, I admire you as much as you love Charlie, but it’s a matter of soulmates versus those of the past.” You gesture toward his ring, pursing your lips at the sight. “Are you sure you’re truly ready to move on? From the entire time I’ve known you, you’ve never taken that ring off.”

“I’m sure.” He let his hand holding yours drift up to cradle your cheek, snapping his finger to get rid of the ring and away in his back drawer. “She’s left me for almost a whole decade, I think I have the permission to move on.”

You melt into his hand, pressing a soft kiss to his palm. “If it’s what you really want, Luce.”

“It is.” He left a small kiss at your temple. “Because I know you’ll still be with me when all of Hell falls apart and all my magic is gone.”

“You’re so cheesy.” You lean back on the couch, letting your head rest on his shoulder. “Will you officially be mine, Lucifer Morningstar?”

“Always, beautiful.” He kept your hands linked as he pressed a promise kiss to your ring finger. “Always.”

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[rubydubydoo122]

I've seen a lot of discourse about who the angry Robin was, but like... why do we have to define the Robins in terms of that?

Dick's Robin embodied Light. He was the Foil to Batman's Darkness. His story is meant to parallel Bruce's and it's because of the reason he became Robin in the first place. He became Robin, not to avenge his parents- he didn't want to kill Tony Zucco. He became Robin in a very similar way that Jason became the Red Hood; To make sure it doesn't happen to anyone again.

Jason's Robin embodied Hope. He was a character who was given opportunities and he made the best of them. He was given a home, and a family, and education and he loved it all because at some point he could only hope to have those things. It gave him the outlook of 'If things could get better for me, than things can get better for other people, if I do what I can help them.' To Jason, Robin meant giving people hope, and that's why Jason was deeply affected by Gloria Stanson's death. She had lost hope.

Tim's Robin embodied Determination. No matter how many times he was rejected by Bruce, he still stood by his side. No matter how many of his family and friends died, he still kept fighting. No matter how hard he was beat, he still got up.

Stephanie's Robin didn't have a long run, and I sadly don't really know how to quantify her Robin. Maybe spite, I feel like. Because she became Spoiler to stop her dad, and be like 'haha, L' and also because she became Robin after her and Tim broke up. Idk, if any of you have a better idea pls tell me

Damian's Robin embodied redemption. You can tell from the beginning of his run, to current comics how much he has grown and changed. When he was younger, he didn't really understand how the LOA morals were wrong, but then he learned, and he's constantly trying to move away from that and lead with more compassion in his own Damian way.

Duke's Robin embodied the people. He was what they needed at the time. I don't really know much about his Robin either, so pls lmk if it's not that.

[rubra-wav]

Yes! That’s exactly what I meant with the butterflies and characters!

I now have another request for main cast +Rosie and how they’d react with a Toriel (undertale)! reader where they’re basically a super comforting mother-like figure. I specifically want their reactions to reader making Toriels iconic and homely butterscotch cinnamon pie.

The main cast + Rosie × Toriel-like reader hcs

[ Part 2/ x Lucifer ]

A/N Glad I got the first one right! I've mostly written this as generally parental to keep stuff more gn, but reader is definitely more maternal than paternal.

I love this prompt sm. Toriel is such a sweetheart, and I feel like a reader who's like her would be a massive help to the cast and their progress of redemption.

Cw: SFW, technically gn but I use the words 'mum or dad' to refer to reader, platonic, kinda hurt/comfort in parts, suggestive in Angel's, references to cannibalism in Alastor's and Rosie's

Charlie

- Charlie would love you so much.

- She's got absolutely horrendous unresolved parental issues from both parents, so she would attach to you so quickly.

- If you tell her how wonderful of a job she's doing and that you are proud of her as a warm, caretaking parental-like figure, then she's gonna be bawling like an absolute baby.

- You want an unofficially adopted daughter?

- When you bake her the pie, she will feel years of ignoring her damaged inner child absolutely smack into her at once.

- Runs over to you and just grips onto your shirt as she bawls into your shoulder, saying thank you over and over again and apologising for crying. Probably accidentally calls you mum or dad as you're there hugging her and is then super embarrassed after it.

- After that? Yeah, she just keeps calling you mum or dad accidentally. It just becomes habitual at some point, and everyone else in the hotel just kinda accepts it.

- I can see her unconsciously calling you mum or dad on the phone to Lucifer himself and Lucifer going nuts about it, thinking she's either talking about Alastor or Lilith has come back.

- It'll just be the Alastor shenanigans all over again, but when Lucifer actually sees you, he can't even be mad.

- You offer him tea and stuff you've made for his visit, and he's just there angrily stuffing his face while slightly crying because he's trying so hard to stay mad, but Charlie looks so happy as she talks animatedly about him to you and you're so genuinely sweet unlike Alastor.

- He's also lacking a massive spot missing in himself that Lilith left that you could fill.

- ... Want an unofficial adopted husband, too?

Vaggie

- At first, she really doesnt like you.

- Nah, she hates you straight up.

- Finds how you act for a demon to be greatly untrustworthy, and she's very defensive because she thinks you're just another Alastor who's trying to get close to Charlie to potentially harm her.

- After a while, though, she sees you are just genuinely a deeply abnormal demon as compared to what she's seen.

- Then she quickly warms up to you.

- She never thought she had any kind of missing parent spot in her heart, being an ex exterminator and all, but oh boy, was she wrong.

- She's never experienced any kind of presence like yours - as an exterminator, she didn't have parents.

- And because of that, she's suddenly found herself unable to stop crying for some reason as you hugged her and told her she's doing a really good job protecting everyone.

- She's never had that in this way. Charlie is, of course, supportive but not in a way that's parental.

- If you tell anyone about her crying in your arms, she says she will deny it and end you.

- When you offer her the pie, she doesn't break down like Charlie, but she's so happy. Has googly eyes about it and is fighting tears as you come and hug her.

- Very much appreciates you and all you do, in a much less 'going to start actually calling you mum/dad' way, though.

- Does somewhat attach to you like that however.

- Absolutely becomes particularly protective over you.

Angel Dust

- You vex him so greatly.

- At first, he thinks it's some kind of roleplay thing you were trying to get him to play out, and he's not into it at all.

- Downplays it if you're male with a; "Well, I'm not usually into that kinda calling people daddy, but -"

- Straight up tells reader he's not into that if reader isn't male, however.

- Is even more confused when you are horrified he thinks you're trying to bed him.

- All his years of coming across terrible people have made him avoid you like the plague, he doesn't trust you because you're just so?? Weird?

- Thinks you're trying to break his walls down with kindness so you can take advantage of him, so his guard is literally always all the way up with you.

- He cracks a bit, though, when he's had a rough night and you find him sitting on the lounge in the TV room with his head in his hands.

- You bring him a slice of the butterscotch cinnamon pie, hearing he likes sweet things, and some tea with a painkiller on the side of the plate.

- When he says thank you hesitantly, you just smile and hum before leaving.

- After that, he starts to warm to you.

- You help to patch him up if he ever gets injured and take care of him when he comes home wasted.

- When you patch him up/take care of him, you sometimes help brush his fur out, and he loves that a lot.

- Will lie about not liking it, though. He's not meant to like soft affection. It goes against his persona he tries to put on.

- The way he leans into your touch though whenever you do this is very telling.

Husk

- He doesn't like you at all.

- Finds the way you treat him deeply unsettling and borderline humiliating, and wishes you would just leave him alone.

- He's a grown man, he doesn't want to be treated like someone's kid - especially some random.

- When you back off, he's thankful for it.

- He appreciates when you do smaller gestures for him though that are less parental/ emotional and are more just practical.

- If you help him clean up, give him stuff to eat while he's working, volunteer to massage his shoulders, etc. He's happy.

- When you give him some of the butterscotch cinnamon pie, he's gonna bitch he doesn't like sweet things but he'll be lying about not liking it.

- Probably will try to recreate the recipe in secret late at night.

- Absolutely mortified when you find him absolutely covered in flour with a mixing bowl in his hands after hearing him sneeze loudly.

- The ingredients on the bench very clearly match what would be in a butterscotch cinnamon pie.

- When you say he could have just asked you what the recipe was, he gets incredibly defensive and vehemently denies it.

- You wave him off apologising for 'assuming wrong', then leave him to continue what he totally wasn't doing.

- He gives up after that and goes to bed rather embarrassed, getting caught on his bs.

- He's extra embarrassed when the next day he finds the recipe written on a piece of paper slid under his room's door.

- He acts like he doesn't like you still, but it's an absolute lie.

Sir Pentious

- Deeply paranoid about you in the beginning, naturally.

- He finds the way you act extremely strange and the way it makes him feel even stranger, so he avoids you for a while.

- One night when he thinks you're asleep he comes to look longingly at you like with other members of the hotel.

- Only to find you are not asleep at all, and are just reading late into the night, lost in a book.

- He inwardly curses and tries to leave, but the floorboards outside of the door creak with his movement, and he's mortified, anticipating getting the living crap beaten out of him.

- Is surprised when you smile at him and beckon him over instead, though, asking him what he's doing up so late.

- Slowly comes over to you and sits down next to you hesitantly. He's still anticipating a beating, but figures if he does what you ask he will receive less of one.

- You of course don't, and your soft nature sweeps him in. His tired and secretly touch starved self is very quickly falling asleep curled against you.

- After that, he quickly warms up to you, finding your caring, affectionate nature very much something he's missing and wants.

- When you serve him the cinnamon and butterscotch pie, he goes very weepy about it. He doesn't really like sweet things that much, but he's so soft about the gesture.

- Would probably be one to attach to you hard as a parent-figure as well. Would never allow himself to call you mum or dad though.

-If he does, it's mumbled out while he's very tired and not thinking while snuggled against you.

- One of his eggs hears this and later addresses it, and he's absolutely horrified.

Alastor

- He's another person who's particularly fond of you for the get-go.

- He has a surprising soft spot for people who act parent-like - especially when it's more on the motherly kind of side of things.

- So, from day one, he's treating you much more genuinely nicely than he usually would other people.

- He would never in a million years act like the others do with you. However, he certainly does not shy away from you doting upon him.

- He'd accept tea and pastries (even though they aren’t exactly to his usual tastes), as well as the affection and praise you give out liberally graciously with a smile and warmness that is not as forced as it is with others.

- But he would certainly never allow himself to become attached enough to you to see you like a parent to him. He's got one parent, and you could never replace her.

- When you come out with the butterscotch cinnamon pie, looking all homely and soft with it in your hands, he feels himself smile widely and let's out a laugh that's so lacking of the usual mocking/underlying bad intent that it would surprise the listener.

- Happy to tell you about his day each time he comes home over tea.

- Of course he doesn't discuss anything under surface level things, though he certainly likes the smalltalk you bring to the table.

- You may be able to crack his outward persona a little bit and get him to very vaguely touch upon what's going on with him under the surface, but even then, it's never truly honest or obvious as to what his true thoughts are.

- When he has the breakdown in the final episode, he particularly avoids you afterwards as he just knows he'd risk letting his walls down too much around you.

Niffty

- Another one who absolutely loves you from day one.

- You let her put on puppet shows with the dead insects she kills and compliment her messed up collections and art, though you do push her towards less sadistic/unhinged forms of entertainment.

- She doesn't stop what she does, of course, but she will take up some of what you recommend. Usually in a very twisted way though.

- ie. 'paintings of butterflies', but it's actual butterflies mixed with other insects like a messed up form of taxidermy all glued down onto a page.

- Likes having you around to do the mopping and vacuuming around the hotel with her.

- She of course helps with the work, but she particularly enjoys sliding full speed across the floor while it's wet towards you and watching you panic as you scramble to catch her.

- Also likes to sit on the vacuum cleaner when you use it talking about anything and everything.

- You usually both end up absolutely covered in soapy water by the end of cleaning.

- She also likes the meals and desserts you make for her very much.

- When you bring out the pie, she's sitting down and kicking her legs excitedly as she looks at it as you bring her a slice.

- After shes done, she's going over to you and is sitting in your lap while kicking her feet even more excitedly and cuddling up against you, basking in your hugs while giggling.

- Absolutely calls you mum or mama. Regardless of your gender, you'd be getting called mum by her.

Rosie

- Pleasantly surprised to meet a sinner like you.

- You two get on like a house on fire the second you meet.

- She's of course cordial, but it's much less forced around you, and she feels a lot more easy going around someone like you.

- She's absolutely beaming in every meeting you have and absolutely adores being around you at all points.

- She finds how you instantly try to take care of everyone around you - including her - absolutely endearing and extremely cute.

- Loves having tea with you and Alastor.

- It's not often she can find someone who is unafraid enough to have tea with not only her but also Al, so she's absolutely elated. Most people are scared for obvious reasons to dine with cannibals.

- Normally, she would turn down the kind of food you make, but she just cannot bring herself to.

- You're too sweet to say no to in her books.

- She's somewhat hesitant to try it like with most of what you bring when you bring out the pie, but is delighted when she does.

- Truly loves it, and your gestures are just so absolutely lovely to her.

- Doesn't attach to you as a parental figure at all, but certainly does love having you as a friend.

- She absolutely tries to dote on you in the same way you do with her.

- A bit hesitant to start cooking more normal dishes though, so she ends up asking you to cook with her.

- She's surprised at how fun it is to cook with you.

- Rosie and you end up starting to bake or prepare desserts for your teatime sessions with Al. It quickly becomes an activity she absolutely cherishes.

[hells-wasabii]

Headcanons for Charlie, Lucifer, Lute, and Alastor with a m!reader who’s the Demi-god son of Zeus?

I would imagine that deities from other myths and cultures do exist in hazbin hotel/helluva boss but don’t really have much power like they did in ancient times, likely mainly due to when christianity started to grow larger pagans ended up being persecuted and killed if they did convert. And it would effect them to the point where either deities chose to live among mortals (like how deities do in American Gods), simply join Heaven and became powerful angels, or tried to fight heaven only to get killed and end up in hell and possibly be more powerful than overlords.

Y/n doesn’t really have a good father-son bond with Zeus, given how much of a terrible father and wife he is in the greek myths.

And with y/n being a son of zeus he also inherited some of his abilities (lightning, strength, etc.)

A/N: I really hope this one is formatted properly, I had to post this one from mobile. But I didn’t write as many headcanons as I normally would due to the number of characters in the ask. From this point on my max character amount will be 3 per ask. But in any case, I hope you enjoy what I got!

Characters: Lute, Lucifer, Charlie, Alastor

Type: Headcanons (x son of Zeus!reader, General)

Lute

When Lute first met you, she immediately saw an opportunity. She practically begged you to join the exorcists! She did admittedly get scolded by Adam for letting the exterminations and exorcists slip, but after that she went about trying to recruit you to their cause properly.

The greek gods wandered freely and let their powers go to waste, but you, you could do something with your powers! Sure, they may not be nearly as strong as your father’s but you’re powerful nonetheless. Which on top of that, there weren’t all that many demigods in heaven anyway, which made you all the more

So she goes out of her way to try to recruit you. She had met your father in passing, sure, but she didn’t particularly care for or about him. He was complicit, doing nothing when it came to the sinners, so frankly he was none of her concern.You on the otherhand were a well of untapped potential!

She would personally make you her project. Your uniform would be altered, an indication for other exorcists not to get to close on the battle field, after all electricity is hard to control especially surrounded by metal objects such as armor pieces or weapons.

Lucifer

Lucifer was initially confused to see you in hell. The other pantheons had their own afterlives, you knew that, right? You were a demigod, you were practically guaranteed a spot in elysium, especially with one of the old Olympians as a parent. Oh, you didn’t want anything to do with that sort of stuff? That’s fair he supposed.

When he finds out about your lack of a relationship with your dad, he initially would want to help fix it. He doesn’t have the best relationship with Charlie, something that the king of hell deeply regrets. He knows how much it can hurt.

That is until he finds out your dad is Zeus. Then he fully understands. See, he never really liked Zeus all that much, between how he he had the habit of acting childish and how he constantly cheated on his literal wife, (which that was a whole different can of worms that Lucifer was not about to open)

Charlie

Being the princess of hell, she wouldn’t exactly have any room to talk when it came to your lineage. But you were the son of Zeus, that basically made you royalty, right? Regardless, she’d still refer to you as such, even if your human blood prevented you from being heir to a now nonexistent throne.

Much like her father, your strained relationship with your own dad tugged at charlie’s heartstrings. She will actively want to help you reconnect with him.

She might initially be a little pushy about it, considering her views on forgiveness and redemption, but she would want you to try to better your relationship with your dad. She herself doesn’t have the best one with her own, but they had been working on improving it. She wants that opportunity for you too.

If that’s something you would want at least. As much as Charlie would love for you to have a better father-son relationship, if that’s something you’re uninterested in she’ll respect your decisions and help better set boundaries with the God, because lets face it. Zeus wouldn’t exactly heed any you might set on your own.

Alastor

Well, i think we all know how he would react. You were powerful, more powerful than a normal soul and he knew it. He could feel it. Sometimes, when you got too excited or let your emotions get the better of you he could feel the charge of electricity

He, in terms of sinners, is likely to be the most open to the idea of other pantheons existing, he dabbled in the dark arts after all.

He knew early on that he could use you to his advantage, and if he could do so by simply saying something along the lines of your father wouldn’t approve, that’s even better. However, if you were harder to get into a deal or to form some sort of alliance, then that meant you would need to be dealt with or steered clear from.

After all, radios and an abundance of electricity don’t exactly mix well.

[bebx]

and if we get Henry Creel | Vecna redemption arc at the end of Stranger Things 5 where he sacrifices himself to save Eleven and then it’s this scene where Eleven is crying as she hugs Vecna’s corpse, I think I’ll be so mad I’ll most likely cry.

like… they kind of pulled the same stunt with Billy when he decided to save Eleven in the end. and with Papa when he freed Eleven from the collar after he was shot. I’m not giving my opinions on either of these characters (Billy and Papa), but these are the examples of this trope that was repeatedly used on characters who are portrayed as villains in the show; they (somewhat) redeemed themselves before they got killed off.

**doesn’t matter if you personally think Billy and/or Papa didn’t redeem themselves or if you think their redemption arcs were not good, the point is, the show intended to give them a somewhat redemption where they are “better”, Billy decided to do the right thing and saved Eleven, Papa decided to “let Eleven go” (I know that was because he was dying, but in the end he tried to help her), so the point of this isn’t “whether or not they had a decent redemption arc” but that “the show gave their antagonists — if we considered Billy an antagonist — a redemption arc before they were killed off”.

anyway, this post is about Henry. and I only just mentioned Billy and Papa as examples of the pattern that’s been going on in Stranger Things when it comes to characters who are bad guys.

also, this may be nothing, but the fact they chose to give us Henry’s childhood and how he was abused at the Lab, as well as how he genuinely cared about Eleven and how he genuinely wanted to help her escape before things went downhill, might be a soft hint that he’s not a psychopath. because he’s not. (all of his crimes, Henry committed them because, in his belief, he was doing the right thing/what had to be done, he never did any of these terrible things he did out of pleasure, and all these hatred he harbored towards humanity as a whole could also be the result of how he’s been treated his entire life, whether it be by his own parents or by Papa and the people at the Lab who literally abused him since he was a child.)

I know I’m kind of rambling here, but what I’m saying is: give Henry a decent redemption arc where he doesn’t die in the end. give him a happy ending where he gets to learn how to love and be loved, the one where he can heal from his trauma and be happy. I know this is probably a wishful thinking, but Henry deserves better and I will always, always stand by this.

anyway, I know @twihs-blog is going to be amazing the next season ♡

[bonefall]

Bones Bones Bonesss wc Star full book spoilers already out in the wild (forums)......... Looking forward to your thoughts when it officially comes out (or whenever!) cause. I will not say. But ohhhhhh it sure was a book............ :33

You know I'll also be doing a full read when I get my grubby paws on a copy, but I do have some strong feelings assuming that the leaks are totally accurate!

The no-spoiler version of my opinion; BOY this ending is a stinker. This arc truly was a blundering mess of lost potential and wasted time. As someone who still feels the first few books were STRONG setups, from 3 onwards I feel like I've been watching a train run out of track and derail in a slow, pitiful fashion.

It's not even a FAST trainwreck. The ending was predictable insofar as they clearly had no good climax or message in mind. Infact it's kind of a marvel how utterly bloodless this arc was, and how any violence they DID show came out of left field because they failed to build up to it.

HOWEVER. I am not just a reader, I'm a scavenger. This stuff is GREAT for BB. The ending gave me the most important pieces I need, and now I know how BB!ASC is going to rework it.

But I'll not get ahead of myself; quickly, I'll just talk raw first impressions of the spoilers.

(As always, take this with a grain of salt and the knowledge that the spoilers may be incorrect. Opinions may change once I read the book myself.)

Splashstar is a garbage villain. He is absolutely bottom-tier for me.

His "amorality" comes out of nowhere and quite frankly he reads like a Chick Tract Evil Atheist.

I don't get how people can accept the way the characters call him "manipulative" when his plots are utterly brainless.

He is the type of naunceless evil that makes me want to hurl. Splash reads like a writer trying to "repeat" the evil of Tigerstar without any of the intelligence of early TPB.

Tigerstar was a RESPECTED warrior. He leveraged his standing in the Clan to secretly carry out his assassinations and forge alliances. He was established strong to begin with.

Splash is like cat-18 and able to kill-no-miss strong warriors with his Evil Jump, and then keeps the Clan in line by holding his siblings hostage.

It makes me not understand how he has ANY followers, because he has no consistent ideology or rhetoric.

Anything they did use (like claiming he'd make the Clans strong and saying tigerheartstar wanted to take over the whole forest or whatever) isn't consistent because they failed to establish these over the SIX BOOKS THEY HAD.

It feels like he was only a legitimate threat for like 2 out of 6 books

And then he's dead in chapter 13. Halfway through the story. Incredibly lame.

I want to reserve my judgement on the Frostpaw vs Splashstar battle, but it's absurd on its face. Harelight went down in 1 hit but Frostpaw musters all her strength to use his move and overcome him?

I have to see it first before I conclude if it's something I want to salvage though. Sometimes fights just come across better when you're reading them.

But on the note of battles, it's frustrating how bloodless this arc was. We started off with tigerHeartstar invading and occupying RiverClan-- yet we're looking at a total body count of 5, with one heart attack and one illness.

And speaking of deaths.

Whoever decided to give Berryheart a redemption death should get offscreen greencough.

UTTER shite. You have this whole arc with radicalization as a major theme, show Berryheart trying to brutally murder her in-law with a snake, grabbing at power desperately to the point where she CHANGED CLANS to be Splash's deputy, and decide that her ideal ending is "she would die for her baby :(((("???

Ffffuuuuuck yoouuuuuuuuuuuu

This is why we can't have good, nuanced villains, these writers trip over themselves the MINUTE they have a sad parent. It could never actually STAY about power or politics, they cant allow a parent to truly be willing to sacrifice their child for their own ends.

No matter how badly or violently they treated you, They're Still Your Parent. Hogwash. I'm sick to death of this thought-terminating cliche.

Being a parent does NOT automatically mean they'd die for you. They already did this earlier with Curlfeather, and the absolute insult it is to the theme of radicalization aside, having Berryheart repeat that sacrifical death cheapens hers.

Now it's not that CURLFEATHER is the one who would never go so far as to allow her daughter to die for her own ends, contrasting Berryheart. It's Just What Moms Do.

And furthermore if they were going to do a "redemption death," it REALLY sucks that they decided to have Berryheart refuse to kill Yarrowleaf and not FRINGEWHISKER.

It's not even indicative of GROWTH or RECONSIDERING HER BELIEFS or anything. She won't kill her SISTER.

It might have meant something to have a chance for revenge and refuse it, but nooooo. Yarrowleaf. My god. Yarrowleaf.

and don't @ me about Yarrow being ex-kin, they both joined and rejected it at different times.

All that said...

There are some things I like here!

Frostdawn and Whistlebreeze getting their names at the same time was really sweet. I like them a lot.

Sometimes a predictable choice is the right one. Icewing becoming leader is a good move. Icestar my beloved.

I'm personally excited to get to Icey's leadership ceremony in my own rewrite, the canon one was as fanservice-wanky as you'd expect of modern arcs but I LOVE rewriting those.

Though I would have preferred Froststar, I'm ok with this.

The fracturing of RiverClan is a great move. I love the idea of there being a mass exodus following these events. It's wild we haven't gotten that before.

While I bemoan the awful politics and lack of setup, I do LIKE the idea on paper of there being "ex-Splash Supporters" to cause problems in future arcs. Not that these writers know what setup and payoff is, but hey, more for me.

I liked the sort of desperate feel of Frostpaw being exhausted in StarClan and deciding if she wants to go back or not. Im a little iffy on how much other cats PRESSURE her, though.

I need to read the chapters myself but I fear that it might not read like her own choice, but another thing that she's being forced into.

Shut UP Tree why are you HEREEE

The part where they all point out that without her, RiverClan wont have a holy messenger and that's bad, fits the consistent way the writers try to portray StarClan as a good thing when they're really not... but.

I think it would have made a fascinating moment for Frosty to realize that SHE is the one who really holds the power in this situation. What spirituality is going to look like in the future of her Clan is in HER paws now.

They are absolutely going to toss this potential away, but I guess the things I like most about the ending are the ways it kinda softly threatens the status quo.

The fracture of RC and the exodus of cats, Frostpaw deciding she will return and fix RiverClan, Icestar accepting help from the other Clans to fix the camp...

It's not ALL bad, it's just that the negatives outweigh the positives and this is exactly the kind of ending I feared. I hope that this isn't just a tease of a change to the status quo, but I've learned to not get my hopes up.

And, lastly, Owlnose deputy and Nightheart's ending chapter are just straight up beyond parody. I can't even be mad, they're such bad moves they're funny to me at this point.

[anonymousewrites]

Nature of the Human Soul Christmas Special

Platonic! Hazbin Hotel x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Alastor x Teen! Reader

Christmas Special

            “Celebrate Christmas? Toots, you know we’re in Hell, right?” said Angel, raising a brow. "We do Sinsmas. We're sinners."

            “Well, yeah, but that’s why Christmas is important,” said Charlie, beaming. “I mean, how could celebrating a holy holiday not help you all get into to Heaven? Plus, Sinsmas is a little...hellish. Christmas is good for us!"

            “Celebrating a holiday overrun by greed and commercialism would be more akin to sin, wouldn’t it?” said (Y/N) from where they perched at the bar with Husk.

            “Let me guess, your parents taught you that,” said Husk.

            (Y/N) looked at him. “Is that bad?”

            “Your parents were obsessed with sin,” said Husk, rolling his eyes.

            “I ended up in Hell,” pointed out (Y/N).

            “We have got to get you to stop thinking like those idiots,” said Angel. “Seriously, kid, you’re never going to have any fun always judging yourself.”

            “Besides, this is going to be about loving one another and family and joy!” said Charlie. “Not greed. There’s nothing bad about caring for one another.”

            “It’s not like we can go to double hell at this point,” said (Y/N), shrugging.

            “Not quite the spirit, but I’ll take it!” said Charlie.

            “We’re going to set up a Christmas tree and do a ‘Secret Santa’ gift exchange,” said Vaggie. “Everyone is participating.”

            “Where’s Strawberry Pimp, then?” said Angel.

            “Would you want to be the one to ask him to join this?” said (Y/N).

            “We could send you,” said Husk.

            “Why do I have to be the one who gets laughed at in their face?” said (Y/N).

            “I’m tempted to laugh right now at this idea,” said Angel.

            “(Y/N), can you help us with the tree?” said Charlie, having already procured a tree from somewhere. She was attempting to pull it into place.

            (Y/N) jumped down from the bar and raised a hand to help root the tree in place. It grew greener as they stepped closer.

            “You think Alastor would’ve said yes to the kid?” said Angel, looking at Husk. “He ain’t soft.”

            “No, he isn’t,” agreed Husk. “He would’ve still said no. But he wouldn’t have been mean to them.”

            “Ya think?” said Angel. He frowned. “I don’t want (Y/N) getting’ hurt ‘cause of him.”

            “We’re here, aren’t we?” said Husk. “We can take care of the kid, too, if Alastor stops training them and tries to use them.”

            “True,” said Angel, smiling as he watched (Y/N) grow mistletoe and holly for Charlie. “If anyone deserves redemption, it’s them. If it’s possible…I ain’t letting Alastor influence them into losing that chance.”

            Husk nodded firmly.

l

            “Alright, time to reveal the presents!” said Charlie happily once the day of the party had arrived, the (attempt) at Christmas music was playing, and she had stuffed everyone into Christmas sweaters.

            “Oh, look, the Grinch is here,” said Vaggie as she spotted Alastor.

            “As hotelier, it is my duty to oversee all Hotel activities,” said Alastor with his usual smile.

            “Do you want to join in?” said Charlie, smiling.

            “I prefer to watch you all toil away at attempting to please one another with material gifts,” said Alastor. “It’s so hopeless I could laugh at loud!” He would.

            “Okay, let’s get on with this,” said Husk. If Alastor was going to spoil any joy he’d get out of this time with people he liked, then they might as well hurry it up.

            “I’ll go first!” said Charlie, excited as ever. “Niffty, I got you, and here’s your gift.”

            Niffty giggled happily (rapidly) and tore the present open like an animal. She cackled. “Yes!” It was brand-new cleaning supplies, and she barely took any time to toss a gift at Vaggie before running to start putting her gift to work.

            “Okay…I’m guessing this is for me,” said Vaggie, looking at the bag apprehensively. She opened it and breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn’t something dead (like bugs. Or a bird. Niffty seemed like the type to wrap that up as a gift). She pulled out a painting. It was a bit abstract, but it was clearly a bunch of dead exorcists from their battle at the hotel. “I mean, it’s cool.”

            “Not very Christmas-y,” said Charlie, wincing.

            “What did you expect for her?” snickered Angel. “At least it’s badass.”

            “Put it next to the Pentious portrait,” advised Husk. “Or burn it. It might be cursed.”

            “Right…” said Charlie.

            “Okay, well, I got you, babe,” said Vaggie, holding out a box.

            Eagerly, Charlie opened it and found a new brooch. “It’s so pretty! Thank you, Vaggie!” She hugged her girlfriend tightly, and Vaggie smiled and held her in return.

            “Alright, alright,” said Vaggie before Charlie started crying in gratefulness. “Someone else go before she becomes too emotional.”

            “Angel, this is for you,” said (Y/N), holding out a bag.

            “Thanks, kid,” said Angel, grinning and opening the bag. He let out an excited sound and pulled out a large stuffed animal shaped like a big pig. “It’s Fat Nuggets! I love it!”

            (Y/N) smiled. “I’m glad.” They really had tried to find something he’d like.

            “So cute,” said Charlie, nodding.

            “Husky, baby, I’ve got you a present,” said Angel, eager now that it was his turn. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Husk groaned (mostly pretending to be annoyed).

            However, he took the gift and opened it. He hesitated before unfolding the paper, expecting someone extremely sexual. Instead, he found a pack of cards. Surprised, he opened them and flipped through the cards. Each one was themed on stuff in their life and on people they knew. It was…personal. Husk smiled.

            “Thanks, Angel,” said Husk, completely honest.

            “No problem, Husk,” said Angel softly.

            Husk cleared his throat and held out a long box to (Y/N). “Here, kid, it’s your turn.”

            (Y/N) brightened. They hadn’t received a lot of gifts during their life, so this was exciting. They opened the box and found a long handle. Curiously, they pulled out a staff from the box. The baton was black with a red rose and fake thorns and vines at the top.

            “If you’re gonna be some goddammed powerful demon, you gotta look the part, and that means staffs, apparently,” said Husk, grinning.

            “I love it,” said (Y/N), twirling it around in their hands.

            “I’m glad,” said Husk.

            “Not quite finished, though,” said Alastor. He reached out and tapped the top of the staff so that it lit up with magic. “You’ve got to make it your own.”

            (Y/N) focused, and the rose blossomed into a real flower. They brightened and grinned at Alastor. “Thanks.”

            Husk and Angel glanced at one another as Alastor just grinned in return at (Y/N). Huh.

            “Merry Christmas, everyone!” said Charlie, happily pulled everyone near her into a smile.

            Merry Christmas indeed.

Taglist:

@kyalov

@pandaquick

@boredwithlifeatthispoint

@jaytheaceenby

@paastaboi

@bettybabys

@gxdoesstuff

@grippleback-galaxy

@just-here-reading

@dmitrytherat

@a-small-tyrant

@marxo5

@rory-cakes

@andsoigotabutterfly

@theblueslytherin

@romyoia

@ray-rook

@thereeallink

@pandaquick

@funkyexistence

@theyaremorethanjustfictional

@lanxianschoenheit

@justyourfriendlyneighbourhood1

@ringsofpersonti

@futureittomainn

@enderpearltv

@oo0lady-mad0oo

@falsemain

@a-huge-bi-nerd

@lost-in-the-hellaverse

@tagthetrekkie

@amberforest08

@picklehat3r

@lunalixya

@rl800

@crystal-freak24

@deadgirldreaming

@elaemae

@im-making-an-effort

@kitkatlover015

@snowy-violet

@wonderlandfandomkingdom

[itsabouttimex2]

A lot of people go with the “you can’t hold fake characters to real people standards” with the SE Macaque discourse

thoughts?

“Real Life Standards”

I guess if these nebulous individuals are holding ALL characters/actions to that standard then yeah it’d be fair…

But they don’t, and they aren’t.

If it was a situation where someone said “MK is so brave for putting himself in danger to save the city!” and these people whipped around and said “Erm, he’s not a real person! Don’t hold him to real life standards! He’s not at risk of dying, so he’s not brave!” Then I’d understand their viewpoint of “not holding fake people to real standards and rules”…

But instead of any of that, this perspective is entirely one-note in defending Macaque’s less than stellar redemption arc, which just makes it… deflective of criticism at best.

If these people were also saying things like, I don’t know, “Stop saying Sun Wukong is bad at communicating! He’s fake! He can’t miscommunicate with people! He’s not real, no one is! They have no agency to be communicated with!”

Or maybe “Sandy is not pacifistic! He’s not a real person living in the real word, so we can’t judge him by our standards of non-harmfulness!”

Or something like “Tang is not a mooch! He’s not real, so there’s no point in attributed a real-life negative word to a character who doesn’t even need to eat on account of being a moving drawing!”

And maybe even “It’s not sad that MK wanted to sacrifice himself! He’s not a real person, and is only doing what the writers want him to! Stop applying real world logic and views to fiction!”

Then I’d at least respect their iron-grip on fiction≠reality, but instead it’s literally just a desperate attempt to defend some awkward writing.

It’s only ever in response to “Macaque was kind of an awful person, and everyone is just… okay with him? They should like… have thoughts and feelings on that. And they don’t, which worsens them and Macaque as characters.”

It’s never a situation where this is applied to any action or character except for Macaque and all the shit he pulled, you know?

​I just personally think that you can like a character with flawed writing while accepting those flaws, and also without… for arbitrarily deciding ‘actually THESE actions are worth disregarding when you take into account the character” and not applying it evenly?

(I criticize Macaque’s writing all the fucking time, and I still like him enough to write for him? That shouldn’t be like… a rare perspective. It’s healthy to criticize the things you like. Being able to pick out good from bad is a fundamental life skill in every area that you can theoretically apply it to.)

But the arbitrary nature of “no real-life standards” UNLESS it’s in a good/positive way… is silly and deflective.

So I don’t really care for that perspective at all, I guess, especially since I’ve gone on at length about all the things I don’t like about his arc?

And how I wish he was able to face like… actual narrative consequences for his actions? And not in way where it’s like… The Gang Tries to Arrest Mac but instead a way where it’s like…

Mei is violently angry at him for hurting her friends and family. She doesn’t want to work with him. MK has to talk her into it. She can’t say no to him. Not over so kind a request as “Give him a second chance, Mei”. So she does, after some grumbling. She pretends to be okay with it. But she’s scared, deep down. Hurt. Secretly, she covers up her old bruises before going to have dinner with her parents.

Secretly, she’s scared of being hurt again.

Sandy is grateful to him and supportive of this newfound morality. Offers up tea and clean clothes. Lends an ear to complaints and frustrations. Lends a bed, if maybe he doesn’t have one. Keeps the monkey fed. Tries to lend self-help books. “You helped me. Maybe there’s something I can do to help you,” he says.

Maybe Macaque actually takes one, eventually.

Tang is scared, doesn’t want to be around him. He’s read the book. He remembers every word. He’s seen Mei and MK and Pigsy suffer at Macaque’s hands. He doesn’t want it to happen again. But he trusts MK, and wants the kid to be happy. So he bites back any fearful words and instead just… frets. Quietly. And far away, thinking: Sanzang insisted on mercy for a demons before. Tang got to see firsthand how that turned out. He had to help put her down.

What if it happens again?

Pigsy is tired. His friends, his kids, always, always in danger, always battered and beaten and hurt. Broken, sometimes. Tears and blood and bruises. He’s not sure how much longer his heart can take the stress. He wants to be angry, but can’t. Between Tang and the store and MK, Pigsy has too much on his metaphorical and literal plate to be angry. So Macaque gets a bowl of noodles. Because by now, Pigsy has learned that he can’t say no to the kindness that MK throws around, scatters like candy thrown from a festival float.

So much heart in his son, and he knows that it’ll end up broken at the end of the road.

Or smth I guess

He deserved better is what I’m saying

[princeescaluswords]

Found Family?

In the last few days, I came across a really nice gifset celebrating Isaac, Erica and Boyd, but at the same time I was informed about someone arguing that Derek was a better alpha than Scott. I know that everyone loves to reconfigure the so-called Beta Trio into some sort of "found family" archetype and by doing so pretend that Derek Hale made these teenagers' lives better because they listened to him, but I feel it's important to remember that is not what happened.

First of all, the Beta Trio was not a Beta Trio; it was a Beta Quartet. Derek Hale bit four teenagers and when one turned out to be defective, he abandoned Jackson like a cruel dog owner dropping a sick puppy on the side of the highway so he didn't have to take care of him. "You've always been a snake, Jackson, just not the one we're looking for." Yeah, top-grade found-family parenting right there.

Second of all, they were soldiers, not family members. Members of the fandom may dislike -- and they do! -- when Scott yells at the New Hale Pack that Derek's just made them into a bunch of guard dogs, but they forget that that is functionally what they become. The first thing that Derek had them do was beat the crap out of Scott. Derek used Erica for espionage ("I have someone else in mind for you"). Then they kidnapped Stiles. Then they kidnapped Jackson. Then they tried to murder Lydia. Then they tried to murder Jackson.

There is exactly one scene where Boyd, Erica, or Isaac do something for themselves, and that's in Abomination (2x04) where Boyd and Erica attend the lacrosse game. "Derek isn't going to like this!" Erica warns.

Third and most importantly, Derek built a pack for his sake, not for theirs. Even if he did it because he was lonely, he still did it for himself. He watches Gerard declare war, he yells at Scott that this is what the Argents do, but he still goes ahead and recruits Isaac, Erica and Boyd. He also has no idea how to beat Gerard, which he literally says out loud after Peter explains that Gerard is winning. "Tell me something I don't know." He also knows the Alpha Pack is coming. Since the fandom likes to tell so much from glances, examine the look on his face when Boyd and Erica tell him they found another wolf pack in the forest. That's not surprise; that's fear. He wasn't prepared for the Alpha Pack yet, but he doesn't say anything but "You're not leaving; you're running." Once Boyd and Erica die, and once he can dump Isaac off on Scott, Derek never mentions any of them again.

This analysis is pretty harsh on Derek, but as I've always said, there's no need for a redemption arc if the character never does anything wrong. And as for why Scott is a better alpha, that's easy, too:

Scott didn't recruit. Of the thirteen Betas that Scott could be said to have over the course of the series and movie (Stiles, Derek, Allison, Isaac, Lydia, Kira, Malia, Liam, Mason, Hayden. Corey, Alec, and Eli), three of them were friends first (Stiles, Allison, and Kira), five of them joined out of admiration or were invested in what the pack was trying to do (Isaac, Lydia, Derek, Mason and Corey), and five of them were members rescued from peril (Malia, Liam, Hayden, Alec, and Eli). He didn't go looking for new members -- he found them, which actually makes it a found family.

Fandom should also compare how Scott treated Liam, the beta he didn't want to bite suffering from a mental disorder, with how Derek treated Jackson. The only time that Scott even hesitated to act as Liam's alpha was after Liam had beaten Scott to the point of death.

They were Scott's pack; they were his friends. Members of the fandom complain that Scott didn't train his pack or put the pack as a unit first. Absolutely. He didn't see them as soldiers. In Battlefield (2x11), when Stiles says he can't do anymore, Scott doesn't press him even though he needs all the help he can get. Scott doesn't want to bring Isaac with him to meet with Deucalion in Frayed (3x05). Liam doesn't have to be with them if he doesn't want to be in A Promise to the Dead (4x11). They hang out, they go to parties, they study like high schoolers are supposed to do. "While we're trying not to die, we still need to live."

Compare how Derek treated Erica and Boyd when they want to leave in Battlefield to how Scott treats Malia in Damnatio Memoriae (5x12). There is a vast difference between Derek insisting that they need him "Yeah, but I told you how to survive. You do it as a pack. And you're not a pack without an Alpha." and Scott explaining that he needs her. "What if I told you that you were the only one I have left?"

Scott built a pack to help others, not himself. Some critical thinker on X announced that "they all left him" about Scott's pack, which somehow proves Derek was better. They did leave (though most of them came back when he needed them), because he's their Alpha, not their owner. They have lives. Isaac couldn't take Beacon Hills anymore and left. Liam moved to somewhere in Asia. Stiles joined the FBI. Lydia founded a company. When he led them into battle -- and Scott did -- he did it because someone innocent was going to die if someone didn't do something -- whether it was the victims of Gerard and the Kanima, or the Darach and the Alpha Pack, of the Dead Pool, of the Dread Doctors, of the Wild Hunt. The pack came together under his leadership to protect innocents.

I don't understand how parts of the fandom can watch the show and argue that Derek's betas were better off as his betas or that Derek was a better alpha than Scott. Even if you edit out all of Scott's positive traits, as parts of the fandom tend to do, even if you erase Scott entirely, as parts of the fandom want to do, Derek's methods were less than constructive, Derek's motives were selfish, and Derek's end results were less than optimal.

[absolutebl]

Love your blog! Do you have any recs for people (me!) who liked: Tale of 1000 Stars, Unknown, Moonlight Chicken, Secret Crush on You, My Beautiful Man, Be My Favorite, Sing My Crush, and We Are (Cute), please? I disliked My Stand In, Love Sea, and Only Friends. I tend to like character driven instead of plot driven stories, and please, no silly misunderstandings or misguided noble morons who break up because a parent suggests it!

Do I detect... a challenge? *rubs hands together* we are playing my favorite game.

Okay, likes:

Tale of 1000 Stars

Unknown

Moonlight Chicken

Secret Crush on You

My Beautiful Man

Be My Favorite

Sing My Crush

We Are

I crossed out the ones that don't fit the trend (outliers) and congratz your wheelhouse is:

moody, atmospheric, angsty, tiny bit cerebral, bit gritty, higher production value, soft focus, lower heat levels but yearning, bit of domesticity, acting chops

Dislikes: My Stand In, Love Sea, Only Friends

Okay not too far into angst, no nasty characters, no dubious tropes or anti-heros, no mame, no high heat, university or older. CHECK! Got it.

Ready?

Right in your damn wheelhouse:

The 8th Sense

(20 points to whoever knew that would be my pull out the gate)

One of the longest BLs Korea has given us (like Blueming) and it feels more atmospheric gay coming of age romance than strictly BL. It’s got a bit of an age gap, country boy/city boy, stellar acting, complex characters, and leads with great chemistry and tension. It’s a bit chewy and sticky and less perfect than most KBLs (do I detect a touch of Taiwan?) This one deployed BL tropes (messy eater, shoulder sleep, protective seme, there’s even some hyung-slinging) but front loaded them with painful backstory and then a ton of angst to drive the 2nd half. This isn’t in the KBL bubble, there’s sharp edges and lots of triggers. For a BL the darkness of the content left me feeling unsettled (which is the only reason it didn't get a perfect score) but it does have a glorious ending and that counts for a lot.

I think you'd really love this one.

Trigger warnings - suicide, loss of a family member.

Blueming

It’s a tiny bit dark and a tiny bit bittersweet, almost too honest to a university experience and first love (for BL), but if you want your mind ever-so-slightly messed with and your intimacy hellishly sweet, this BL will do it for you in a coldly distant manner, while bitch slapping you with self worth issues. I wasn’t into it at first, but the leads are solid and by ep 5 it got really good, becoming a narrative about self discovery meets understanding and accepting others people’s flaws without hurting them. Ultimately, we witnessed two characters maturing because of each other and their mutual affection, without that affection becoming the conflict point. Instead, tension was built around other aspects of identity, popularity, and self-worth. While production values were a touch lower than usual for Korea, Blueming included decent kisses and beyond plus a satisfying ending and come judicious and very elegant use of tropes. It is, in the end, simply a great BL.

Also Bleuming paved the road for 8th Sense and other gritty KBL to follow.

Love For Love's Sake

Isekai-based KBL is about a man who must win a game by convincing a reserved teen outcast to fall in love with him. Of course, that teen represents himself and his own unhappiness. Like many queer narratives, this show is actually about self worth, trust, and found family, and it is VERY on the nose. But I don’t expect subtlety from my BL and I enjoyed it's truly lovely redemption arc and earnest performances. I personally found the narrative a touch disjointed with overworked filming angles and poorer than average captions, but the consistency of tone, script, and immersion is beyond the norm for BL. You will drown in this show and like it that way. The leads have fantastic chemistry and it's ultimately highly rewatchable and utterly charming, which counts for a lot.

Trigger warning - suicide.

Unintentional Love Story

OMG the plot! Uke forced into a totally understandable betrayal, falling in love despite himself, put into a corner he can't get out of, the AGONY, the PAIN in those gorgeous eyes. Gah. Okay, so: A boy loses his job due to trumped-up corruption charges accidentally discovers his ex-boss's favorite artist, now a recluse. Evil manager offers him his job back, if he can convince the artist to rejoin society. Instead, they fall in love. I found the artist a bit stiff and reserved but Gongchan (maknae of B1A4) is a fucking GIFT - he carried this show (which I do not expect from the idol element). He was luminous with extraordinarily expressive eyes, just drown in the emoting abyss. The external conflict, social tension and pressure is complex and beautifully executed, plus Korea gave us legit side dishes (NOT a love triangle, hally-fucking-luya).

My Personal Weatherman AKA Taikan Yoho

You mentioned My Beautiful Man so if you're feel like that energy, grown up, watch this. It's a style of live action yaoi really only works from Japan. Basically: boys who fell in love in college end up living together but both are so repressed they actually don't realize they're in love. It's higher heat than we usually get from Japan's HEA stuff, and that part is also very well done, but it leaned into the "why don't they just talk for fuck's sake?" trope which is only exacerbated into undiluted frustration by the fact that they're already fucking. However, that's angst for Japan. And you like angst. Honestly? It's great, but watching requires more patience than usual, even for Japan.

My Ride

Thai BL grew up with this pulp (the first ever to make my end of year top 10). It’s a truly lovely and special little show featuring the extremely rare pairing of sunshine/sunshine (AKA a cinnamon roll couple) plus mature explorations of relationships using one of the softest, sweetest and most innocent friends to lovers vehicles. Kindly, overworked doctor meets broken-hearted motorcycle taxi driver in an “other side of the tracks” slow burn romance. The support cast is excellent, making for great friendship groups and family dynamics. With honest queer rep that adds to, but doesn’t impede, the story, and genuine conversation about the nature of class, wealth, and classism, not to mention communication, honesty, and respect for boundaries, you can’t go wrong with this show. In other news, I am a sucker for a single dimple.

It won't have the production values you're used to but it is a great show.

A Breeze of Love

Tsundere insomniac grump reunited with his sunshine jock ex (human sleeping pill) who now hates him. Basketball is also involved. While the simplicity of a reunion plot makes this more cohesive than most KBLs, it is a tad stiff and slow, never managing to lift itself out of "pretty, angsty, and pretty enjoyable." I liked it more than I thought I would, and think about it more too. 

Jazz for Two

This was basically what I wanted from Given and didn’t get. So I’m pleased. A solid enemies to lovers BL, where the sins of brothers' past haunts the present. Great optics, decent chemistry, and a tidy script even if tsundere characterization went a bit extreme in some cases.

Trigger warning - suicide.

Like In The Movies AKA Gaya Sa Pelikula

Karl, a student living alone, runs short of funds and ends up becoming housemates with Vald an out and proud chaos gay. This leads Karl into an identity crisis and journey of self discovery. This kind of forced proximity trope is really common in BL, but what Gaya does is handle it in a messy honestly queer way. It includes Vlad’s attitude in response to Karl’s shaken behavior and the frustration many out queers feel. For that alone it has to be applauded.

DNA Says Love You

DNA deserves extra marks for an upbeat approach to a queer story arc that other shows have systemically mishandled with sadness (in the guise of realism). There is a twist, which I found predictable, but knowing what would happen didn't spoil this show. The leads are luminous and engaging, and it’s full of queer found family representation and an unexpected amount of domesticity, plus it’s Taiwan, so the kisses are great. The first few eps are rough going but PLEASE have patience, it's worth it I promise! The second half is really special and life/love affirming - and the end is big-grin charming.

My Tooth Your Love

Earnest dentist hottie with sad eyes who worries too much is smitten by an adorable sunshine neurotic bar owner with serious anxiety issues. They fall madly in love while courting each other with food, plushies, and naps. Then, shocker, talk about their feelings and try to actually sort out their problems so they can have an adult relationship. Bonus crumbs = 18 year old poor little rich kid in mad crush with a much older man. I really enjoyed this show, it had a unique premise, killer dialogue, there was a solid lead pair with charming chemistry, soft flirtation, delightful smiling kisses, and stinkingly cute domesticity. All that said, I wasn’t wild about some of the darker themes it explored, even though it did a good job with them. And while the sides were adorable, they were underused. In the land of May/December, baby boy kabedon is my kryptonite! Why so little of it? (Kabedon is My Kryptonite = also the name of my indie band’s first single.)

Trigger warning - parental abuse.

The Eclipse

GMMTV does gay Blacklist with a good boy/bad boy pairing. This is a good show but the cast is excellent and the leads are absolutely flawless, which elevates it beyond just good. We got a nuanced and multifaceted burgeoning relationship: philosophical (and socio-political) conflict contrasted to moments of empathy; flirtation contrasted to moments of genuine affection, plus plenty of angst. This narrative is less about love than it is about courage and tenderness. However, near the end the pacing was off and the plot frustrating. Still, this is an enjoyable watch, with a finale that features verbal consent and a fun blooper reel.

Never Let Me Go

Bodyguard romance where poor boy must watch over rich boy for family obligation reasons. Simple premise well executed with a few bumps that made it feel like it was trying to tackle too much (when it wasn’t). Still, an enjoyable show that benefited from being handed to PondPhuwin who did a stellar job with their roles and chemistry. Of GMMTV handing out new series to established pairs in 2023 this is one of the most successful IMHO. It's typically Thai in that it's a bit bloated and has a confusing plot, but at least it HAD a plot and the central relationship is solid and loyal. The Our Skyy 2 follow up is great too. And very much adds to the cannon in a fun way rather than feeling superfluous - making this show ultimately 14 eps rather than 12.

Some real oddball and sophisticated suggestions

Addicted (original)

When Chinese BL was good it was very dirty good and when it was bad it was censored. This is the model for that statement: rich kid falls madly for the genius poor kid in his class, starts an aggressive pursuit, includes kidnapping for love, obsession, stepbrother trope, plus some cheating. I love this BL because of what I could have been. Just stop watching it after The Sex Scene. Okay?

It might not be right in your wheelhouse but what even fans forget about is how stunning the atmosphere is with this show. I mean we can feel the cold and the grunge. When they living poor it's REAL poor. It's a super immersive show. Unforgettable.

Began Beginning

Childhood best friends must come to terms with their own identities and true feelings for each other when a new boy comes to town, putting them into conflict with their families and ultimately, each other. For the first half of this show there’s a lot of sitting across from each other and talking about life choices over yummy food and then going to tourist spots (mildly boring and not particularly important to the plot). It changed tone about 2/3 in to be way more of a coming out family drama about forced marriages and homophobia. And then at the very end it changed again, becoming a full on soap opera with kidnapping, crazy characterization shifts, and rescue missions. All in all? It was a wild raw creature to consume as a binge. No kisses since this is Myanmar, but a very romantic end, so I think maybe actually worth your time? I'm certainly glad I watched it.

Stay Still

What to say about this offering from Hong Kong? It’s different, a mix of early CBL, Taiwanese shorts, and Pinoy visuals. It felt like the story was 2 independent shorts that had been lengthen and then stuck together, and I wish they'd been approached as separate and tighter entities. Nevertheless, this was a complex little piece, interesting in a sweaty grungy way, with a certain aura of queer authenticity that made it simultaneously tense, unpredictable, and refreshing. I’m not sure I would necessarily call it BL, but any county’s early foray into the genre usually starts out this way, so perhaps nascent BL? Worth watching, especially if you enjoy stuff from the Philippines and Taiwan.

On the lighter end but probably still in your wheelhouse

I Cannot Reach You AKA Kimi ni wa Todokanai

Classic friends-to-lovers BL is everything Japan does best. Angsty. Emo. Aching. Driven by real thirst. Yamato is deeply in love with his childhood bestie, Kakeru, and has been for ages, unable to hide his ungainly damaging high school need. He wants Kakeru in every way possible and it oozes off of the screen. Kakeru is silly and a little simple, but not frenetic or overly camp about it. He is earnest, and genuinely wants to keep Yamato in his life which means giving a romance (and gayness) a fair chance. We watch him realize his affection and what form it can take in a truly authentic way. This show was impossibly kind to both of its lead characters and I felt almost honored that I got to watch something so lovely and rare play out on my screen.

To My Star

Hwang Da Seul directs this show about a neurotic actor (actual puppy) who takes refuge with a grumpy chef resulting in sparks, cooking lessons, and LOVE! It’s is a touch quirky to get into, but utterly charming once it hits its stride. This is the ultimate grumpy/sunshine pairing plus the most appealing light-filled kitchen of our dreams. I adore this show so much. Limited use of BL tropes makes this feel more of a sweet contemporary gay romance between an actor plagued by scandal and the grumpy chef who adopts him, but the gentleness will appeal to fans of the BL genre.

Old Fashion Cupcake

This show had me from the moment they broke the egg yolk with the chopsticks in the opening credits. It’s about a younger man with a long cherished crush on his boss (ten years older and going through a mid life crisis) who decides to save and seduce said boss with pancakes. It’s wholesome, comforting, sexy, and a very necessary narrative about still having hope, interests, and openness to affection at any age. It’s a stunningly filmed late-in-life comg of age/queerness story packaged in a subtle critique of expectations around masculinity, love, and loneliness... and it’s beautiful.

Cherry Magic (Thai remake) - this is my We Are & SCOY match pull

A soft charming warm hug of a show about crushes and mind reading and self worth that really worked for me. With no-fuss execution from a consummate team (at GMMTV) and an OG lead pair (proving why they remain eternal and deserve to grow up). Look, here’s the thing, Cherry Magic is a great Thai BL in its own right - not comparing it to any other iteration. But even when I do compare (and I've seen all the Cherries and read the manga) it stand strong. I, personally, like the Thai BL slightly better than the Japanese live action yaoi, but I think that’s because I just really enjoy Thai BL's style and I LOVE TayNew. Also all the kissing was both present and better in this version. As it should be from Thailand.

Make a Wish

A doctor who can see the dead strikes a bargain with a wish-granting irreverent tree angel - naturally they fall in love (from Sammon: Manner of Death & Triage). Stars Fluke Natouch opposite not Ohm, but who cares because Fluke has chemistry with everybody. Once again the Thai afterlife is incredibly bureaucratic but I enjoyed the premise and the unfolding of the story (it’s not predictable but still satisfying and with nice little twist). I like that the doctor is just gay AF - fag hag bestie and made of swagger. The cast is excellent but the comedic stylings are a bit overblown and tonally off. It has sad parts and did make me cry but is ultimately happy with a great sex scene, good smiley kisses, and all the agency.

I thought about it but I'm not sure

still you can put these on your "maybe" list

Until We Meet Again

I Feel You Linger in the Air

La Pluie

Restart After Come Back Home

His the movie

Life: Love on the Line

Perfect Propose

Tokyo in April is

Love is Better the Second Time Around

Ocean Likes Me

My Only 12%

After Sundown

I Told Sunset About You

These might be a bit too cerebral, dark, and/or plot-heavy for you. But are worth it if you feel in the mood for something very chewy.

Currently airing

It's set in high school but it scratches the Unknown itch:

The On1y One

Sirs not appearing on this list but if you follow my blog and ask me for tips it's kind of required watching:

Seven Days.

Because everyone should watch it no matter what your taste. So there.

(source)

[frandomgorl]

I’ve decided to write about my Outsiders pet peeves

TRIGGER WARNING: Dally’s suicide

1. Saying that Ponyboy is bratty or over dramatic. First of all, he’s a freshman in high school. Mostly everyone I know was annoying as a freshman too. He JUST turned 14 in the book, so yeah some of the things he says are petty or rude, but he’s a child. Not only is he a child, but he’s established from the beginning as a character that feels things deeply, he contemplates things that he can’t really vocalize with a majority of the people around him. He has no parents, and he feels lonely after their death. I personally have siblings but if my parents died, especially at a young age, I’d feel lost and lonely too. Him having brothers doesn’t make the gravity of his parents death any less saddening.

2. People who watched the musical and said anything along the lines of “I don’t like that Dally committed Suicide”. Because he committed suicide in the book too. And it wasn’t like some secret that he did it, it wasn’t “heavily implied”. He wasn’t just lost and confused so he made trouble and was reckless. Because Dally was not unintelligent. He knew if he robbed the store, the cops would come after him. He knew that if he pointed the gun at the police, they’d shoot him. There was nothing accidental about his death, and to imply that is insulting the characters intelligence and minimizing his feelings. Assisted suicide is still suicide.

3. Anyone who demonizes Darry, wasn’t paying enough attention to what ever version of the Outsiders that were reading or watching. I mentioned earlier that I didn’t like how some people talk about Pony, but Darry also tends to get demonized by a lot of people. A lot of people think that you can’t like both Darry and Pony, but that’s not true. Darry was doing his best in his circumstance and always had Ponyboy and Soda at the top of his list of priorities.

4. People who write Dally in a way that glorifies his actions in life. I understand that everyone wants to think of the gang as these sweet little guys with an adorable found family. Hell, I love those fanfictions, but you can love a character and also understand that objectively they aren’t a good person. I love Dally, and I’m sympathetic to him because of his past, but I won’t justify the things he does. Dally does, and has done a lot of bad things in his life, and he has a lot of flaws. I’m not going to make excuses for him. I can be sympathetic to him, and also truthful about him.

5. I have seen some people talk about Randy’s redemption in a negative light. A lot of people saying it felt like too little too late. However, Randy having that redemption is so important because it emphasizes the similarities is the social classes. His arc also serves as a reminder that’s the docs were human too. He was an example of positive change within the series.

6. I understand if the outsiders isn’t your cup of tea, but just because you don’t like it doesn’t make it bad. I don’t like rom coms, but that’s not because they are bad, it’s because they are rom coms, I can’t sit through the genre. The outsiders is at its core a coming of age novel that still rings true for a lot of people today. So my last pet peeve is people saying it’s “it’s just a school assignment”. At its core it is an assignment but a lot of people see themselves in these characters and that’s something no one should feel bad about.

Thanks for coming to my TED TALK

[kitkatopinions]

When people talk about how "rwde is mad that RWBY subverts expectations" I wonder how much of what's considered subverting expectations is actually ignoring set up, doing things out of nowhere, and actually doing a popular and very much so expected thing.

Like don't get me wrong, I do think sometimes people have ideas for what RWBY should've been and then think that it was more set up then it actually was. Like, people who took Blake saying she grew up outside the kingdoms and had to learn to fight to mean "I am an orphan and spent my whole life on the streets" that then got mad when Blake had pretty big house and parents. I might agree that RWBY perhaps shouldn't have given Blake the privileges they gave her specifically because of how they decided to use her to tell the other Faunus to stop being mean to their oppressors (though I'd sooner throw that part out than get rid of Blake being the daughter of a leader with a big house,) but I don't think it was pulling the rug out from under people the way some people do.

However, then you have things like Adam, where some people in RWDE are saying "he was set up as this interesting character who would be an ideological foil for Blake that cared about the cause and his people, and it felt like he'd be used as a way to talk about the injustice in the world of Remnant and then was reduced to nothing but a girl-obsessed hate sink two dimensional incel" and some anti-rwde people are hitting back with "you're just upset that the edgy bad-boy isn't getting redeemed, you just wanted Adam to be Zuko, but RWBY subverted your expectations by not redeeming him and instead giving Ilia the redemption arc, and giving Blake and Yang the sympathy."

And there's a lot to unpack, there. Including the fact that redemption arcs and sympathy aren't a zero-sum game in fiction and as someone who loves both redemption arcs and when characters get justified sympathy, it's frustrating when people act like there isn't enough redemption to go around as if it's a pie and Adam getting a piece of it means Ilia doesn't get any.

But more to the point, A. I at least have zero interest in Adam being a Zuko, because so much of Zuko's redemption arc hinged on Zuko confronting his and his people's role in oppression. Adam is oppressed. Zuko was scarred by an abusive father and banished from home, Adam was branded like cattle by a supremacist who he was working for as a child laborer. Although both are incredibly sympathetic, they're incredibly different. Whether or not the writers were trying to harken back to Zuko (which I believe they were,) they seemed to completely miss the differences between the two characters, and also deciding to 'subvert expectations' when the circumstances they themselves wrote were so different is a bad look at best. As if they couldn't have 'subverted expectations' with a different character like Cardin or Jacques or even Roman Torchwick, that wasn't a member of their in-universe oppressed minority group.

B. A member of an oppressed people group that's been hurt by the oppressors of the world and yet spends their time committing horrible cruel acts that force the heroes to stand against them is not some never before heard of thing. In fact, it's very common. A revolutionary supposedly fighting for equality that's actually hurting the people he's supposedly fighting for is a pretty regular every day thing. People have literally been criticizing how it's misused and usually racist propaganda (usually written by white people) since long before RWBY was even concepted. Adam isn't a proper subversion of anything, in my opinion, because you can't do the common thing and then say you subverted expectations by not doing the less common thing. Which in this case, the less common thing would actually be to make the oppressed person who had been branded and was shown fighting for the rights of his people to actually be a nuanced and complicated character who does deserve sympathy and could be redeemed.

C. It might just be me, but if you're going to 'subvert expectations' then the thing you write instead of the expectation had better be pretty freaking good. Because sometimes the expectation is there because it just works well. Like in a group of heroes, you expect them to develop a friendship. If people want to subvert expectations by instead having them hate each other, the story better be golden because the reason people tend to expect friendship is that it's usually much easier to connect to character dynamics when they actually like each other. If you're going to write a story where hope is a central theme, but you want to subvert expectations by making a sympathetic and cool character with a personal connection to the mains look like they're gonna get redeemed but then instead make them just the worst person imaginable, then you better do it super well and make him instead a great well-rounded nuanced and fun to hate villain. So not only do we have to pay attention to why the writers shouldn't have gone that route for Adam, we gotta look at the quality of what they did with it, and... Nope. It sucked. Adam was paper thin and horribly voice acted and honestly if he'd never attacked in V6 nothing would've really changed because it had no real consequences that couldn't have been better achieved in a different way, and introducing his branding scar in the same scene he got stabbed was purely for shock value, and nothing came of his character, and idk if Ruby ever even learned his name on screen or Weiss knew anything about him, and it was so badly done. If you're going to 'subvert expectations,' you gotta do it well, or people are always going to want the thing they expected in the beginning instead. Unfortunately, the RWBY writers didn't write Adam well at all. So I for one can't blame anyone for saying 'honestly, I wish they'd gone with the other thing.'

D. Back to 'sometimes when people say subverting expectations, they really mean ignored set up.' With Adam in particular, I do believe that he was always meant to be a bad guy who did bad cruel things from the very first trailer he appeared in, but that doesn't at all mean that set up wasn't ignored. From Blake talking about him as a mentor, to her crediting him with the Grimm masks, to the ideological differences, to Cinder literally having to threaten and coerce him into working with her on screen, the set up indicated that at the very least, this would be a complicated and nuanced 'villain with a point' and that point was going to matter and be addressed. The set up was that Cinder's coercion was going to be addressed and would matter. The set up was that Blake's complicated feelings about Adam and her desire to help her people and her later established care and compassion for Ilia (who may I remind people is at least just as bad as seasons 1-3 Adam in at least attempt if not execution,) would lead somewhere when it came to Adam. The set up was that seeing a child laborer literally branded on the face with the logo of WEISS'S COMPANY would lead to big discussions and some sort of recognition of just how bad the current system is and how bad the SDC itself as always been. And instead Weiss as far as we know never even heard about it and continued on being angry that she wasn't set to be CEO and calling her grandfather a hero and Blake was completely disinterested in attending a rally against Jacques Schnee and teased Weiss about her family owning half of Atlas. Like ???

E. Doing things out of nowhere is also not subverting expectations. In regards to Adam, this looks like randomly making him totally obsessed with Blake enough that he stalks her for weeks when he literally let her go repeatedly before that. Doing things out of nowhere is making Adam not care an ounce about his people in order to do whatever Salem says when we saw him reject Cinder outright and need to be coerced with threats to his people. Those aren't subverting expectations, that's just doing one thing and then retconning the character to do something out of character.

This post turned out to be mostly about Adam, but there's tons of examples of this, like people saying RWDE are mad that the writers 'subverted expectations' by making Ironwood turn evil when we were sitting there like 'the fact that he wasn't evil was subverting expectations in the first place! And they had to throw V3 out the window to get where they were in V8! And it was super badly done!' People just throw around 'subverting expectations' when it comes to RWBY because it sounds a lot better than 'flying by the seats of their pants doing whatever pops into their heads with no care or consideration towards set-up or emotional pay off' but that's it, that's what the RWBY writers seem to do. When I expect something to happen in RWBY, it's because it's the natural thing that makes sense to happen, and in their supposed effort to 'subvert expectations,' the writers instead made a show with no consequences where you can't expect the writers to make anything that happens matter and you can't trust what's in the show because the writers might say sike and retcon it. It's endlessly frustrating to be like 'hey was any of what was in the show going to matter' and then have people say 'you're just mad because RWBY subverted your expectations.' RWBY subverted my expectation that the show would be good, how about that?

You know, if the show actually was interested in subverting expectations, Jaune wouldn't be in the show nearly as much and he'd be more gender-non-conforming and be a support healer role instead of the man now with like twenty years of experience on the mains who always has his trauma get plenty of focus and gets away with screaming in Ruby's face that she's responsible for all bad things while he mourns the three different women that were shoved in the fridge for the sake of his character development. They could've started with making the white straight cis able-bodied not-faunus man actually not be a basic underdog-protagonist turned Michael-Scarn-esque tragic hero that Weiss lusts after, but whoops. Like what am I supposed to think, that they're super interested in subverting expectations for the sake of women when Jaune is right there guzzling up screen time? Nah babes.

(Before someone comes in here talking about Adam-obsessed fan boys, I do not even like Adam, canon Adam is not only gross but far too two-dimensional for me to even enjoy, and my own ideas for rewrites involve me boiling Adam down to a concept and building him up again as if he was a different character as much 'Adam' as Ruby is Red Riding Hood. Nobody accuse me of being an Adam-obsessed dudebro or I will lose it. Because that's another thing that a lot of anti-RWDE people seem to do, is decide that the only reason anyone would ever talk about problems with Adam is because they're an obsessed incel man. And meanwhile I'm over here as a bi-women who dislikes Adam partially because he reminds me of my controlling 'my happiness is your responsibility' ex-boyfriend who we - long story - thought might've stabbed someone with a sword once. So yeah, not an Adam fanboy lol.)