#with several looks showing off her beautiful CURLY hair

[weregonnabecoolbeans]

Im sorry, how do people not like attack of the clones

[my-my-my]

KINKTOBER DAY 1 - Grooming: Shunsui Kyoraku x Reader

Summary: Paperwork, paperwork, and more paperwork. A surefire way for Shunsui's headache to appear. But before it grabs a hold of him, maybe visiting you, a hair stylist in the World of the Living, would give him a much needed reprieve. Also, his hair was in need of a trim anyways.

TW: MDNI! NSFW. Shinigami Shunsui Kyoraku (Post TYBW) with human Reader. I tried to make Reader a bit of a tsundere. Oral sex (fem receiving).

Word count: 2030

Read on AO3 here.

This is a two-parter, with the second part falling under Face Sitting.

Head Captain Kyoraku hung his head and sighed. Paperwork was so cumbersome, there was too many on his desk, too many to read and too many to sign. Damn… how does Nanao do all of this, he thought to himself, slightly regretting giving her time off.

Another sigh echoed the room as he tried to concentrate at the task at hand. Paper after paper, sighs followed by grumbles and muttering from reading strange contracts and requests. Shunsui recognized the familiar pain that was flaring in his skull.

He leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes to try and minimize the approaching headache. It was then, it hit him like a strike of lightning, a brilliant idea on how to get this headache to go away.

Not one to be too irresponsible, he left a message with Lieutenant Okikiba that he’d back shortly.

To see Mr. Kyoraku at your salon was certainly a surprise. You didn’t quite know the man, but he enjoyed your company after you first gave his curly brown hair a simple trim. He came in one day, as you were closing, then would randomly visit you. Sometimes this was when you were already busy with a client, waiting around until you were free, other times it was right when you were closing. The relationship you had was… interesting. You couldn’t deny the immediate attraction to him as he was so handsome, but he also came across as silly that you couldn’t help but laugh at some of his antics and comments.

At the same time, the randomness annoyed you to a degree, so you gave him your number. What shocked you was that it was almost as if he had never heard of a cellphone number before. He stared at the slip of paper with confusion across his face. You remembered that night as you had burst into laughter, and he followed up with, “you have a beautiful laugh” and a dashing smile.

And now, here he was again, showing up when you had just finished with a client, making his way to a seat.

“Mr. Kyoraku! It’s nice to see you, but you need to remember to book an appointment with me.” You laughed as you brushed any remaining cut pieces of hair off your client, paying no mind to him. You attended to your client, as Mr. Kyoraku sat in his seat, his head down.

Once the client left, you were alone in your shop. You had been visited by Mr. Kyoraku several times now, and he would pay a hefty amount for being alone. It startled you the first time, but he said he wanted your complete and undivided attention, and he would pay extra for that.

Which was why he was here, again. How many years has it been since this came to be? But this visit was a bit different, the air was a bit tense. You proceeded to close up shop as Mr. Kyoraku asked you about your day. You focused on sweeping the floor, then looked at him from the mirror in front of you.

“Mr. Kyoraku! What happened?” You gasped, turning around to face him. He wore an eye patch, and an evident scar ran behind it to his ear.

“Oh this? You should have seen the other guy.” He laughed, trying to ease your worry, but without thinking, you held his face as you lightly traced the scar. The worry never faded from your face.

“You’ve always been so sweet to me, my dear.” Mr. Kyoraku said, cupping your hand to his face. He looked at you with his one eye and gave you a tender smile. “I’m alright, you really shouldn’t worry about an old man like me.” You frowned and knew he wouldn’t say much about himself, so you clicked your tongue and pulled him out of his seat.

“So can I assume you’re here for the usual?” You asked, preparing your tools to cut his hair.

He hummed in appreciation, as you draped the hair cutting cape over him. He undid his ponytail, and you began to lightly tussle his locks, “well your hair is super healthy! I hope it wasn’t a hassle to take care of as you recovered from your eye injury, sir.” You asked, politely.

“My dear, you can call me Shunsui.” He smiled at you through the mirror. You blushed at the lack of formality but nodded along. You could sense he was a bit self-conscious, but he had no reason to be. For some reason though, you felt that even if you said that to him, it wouldn’t detract from his insecurity.

You proceeded to trim the ends of his hairs to the shape he preferred. You were no nonsense in your approach, which he had told you before was what he preferred. He could sense your methodical approach, and as he had to move his head up and down, saw how focused you were on him and his hair.

It was… nice being cared for this way.

Then you quickly brushed him and led him to the sinks to wash his hair. “Could you… give me a longer massage today?” Shunsui asked, with a sheepish smile on his face.

“Oh of course, let me just clean your hair first, and I promise to give you the best scalp massage ever!” You exclaimed, wanting to make him feel better.

You carefully lathered and rinsed his hair. The long, brown tresses flowed softly along the sink, your nimble fingers gently detangling his hair. Your fingers made his way to his scalp, and you softly massaged his scalp. Shunsui sank deeper into his chair and let out a content sigh, “that’s great, just what I needed.” He murmured, a large smile gracing his face.

“If you want Mr. Kyo- I mean Shunsui, after I dry your hair, I can give you a back massage. I can see your back muscles are quite tense too.” You asked, noticing the way he was still tense in his chair. He gave you a sincere smile, “I’d love that.”

Once Shunsui’s hair had dried, and he placed his hair in a ponytail again, you led him to one of your spare esthetician rooms where you would give skincare treatments to a few of your clients. The bed doubled as a massage bed, so you instructed him to lay down on it.

Shunsui proceeded to take off his dress shirt, earning a flustered noise from you, “hold on! Let me leave the room.” Shunsui laughed, “it’s alright. We don’t have to be so modest with each other.” Giving you a wink.

“You just like teasing me.” You pouted, as you pushed him on to the bed. It did startle you to see how muscular he was, with mattering of chest hair, but you tried to be professional.

Tried being the operative word.

You placed the cover on top of him and began to feel out his back, noticing where tension was placed across his muscles. You also noticed the faint, timeworn scars across his back.

“You know, Shunsui, we’ve known each other for years… but you never told me what you do.”

“Is that so?” Shunsui replied, with a slight air of indifference, “why don’t you take a guess as to what I do?”

You hummed to yourself, trying to piece together what you knew about him coupled with the scars across his body and eye injury.

“An archery teacher?” You asked, thinking it was a bit of an odd job, but one you could see him do.

Shunsui gave a low chuckle, “no, bows aren’t my weapon of choice.”

Interesting you thought to yourself.

“A kendo teacher perhaps?” As you kneaded a particularly tense muscle of his. Shunsui inhaled sharply from the instant pain, but then relaxed.

“No, but you’re getting slightly warmer.”

Slightly warmer? You questioned. “Have you been working this job for long time?”

Shunsui let out another deep, muffled laugh, “you have no idea.”

“Something to do with the military?” You stopped, peering down at him. Shunsui looked up at you and gave you a lazy smile.

“Close enough.”

Confusion ran through your face, but you were done with his massage. Shunsui sat up on the table, rolling his shoulders and flexing his neck. He let out a loud groan of satisfaction from the relief he felt, “you had no idea how much I needed that.”

But you stared at him with a puzzled look on his face, trying to still figure out his career. Shunsui couldn’t help but laugh at your expression. “You look cute with that look on your face” he chuckled, poking your face.

This earned him another pout from you, “I’m not cute! I’m a grown woman.” This earned another laugh from him.

“You’re both cute and beautiful, how about that?” Shunsui explained, calling your name.

You crossed your arms, pretending to be hurt and mad at what he said, “you have to apologize, you know.” You huffed. Shunsui stared and then gave you a sly smile, cupping your face in his large hand.

“I think I know what to do so you can accept my apology.” Shunsui said, his face hovering close to yours. You closed your eyes as you felt his lips on yours, his hand holding your chin. You could feel the familiar tingles flowing through your body, as the kiss deepened.

He pulled away from you, a lazy, yet satisfied smile crossing his lips. Without a word, he lifted you with ease, putting you back on to the massage table.

“I think you need to take somethings off, if I’m supposed to give you a proper massage.” Shunsui said, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. You quickly shimmied off your bottoms and underwear, then spread your legs wide for him.

“See what I mean, you truly are both cute and beautiful.” Shunsui said in his teasing tone. Your pussy was bare for him to see, not quite wet enough to his liking, but it was a start. He kissed you again, as one of his hands traveled down, cupping your pussy. His large thumb gently rubbed against your clit, earning a gasp from you.

“That’s it,” Shunsui said, pulling his face away from you. He felt the growing slickness from you and kissed his way down your body, giving your nipples some quick bites and sucks. Soon he was hunched over the table, with your legs on his shoulders, as he was face-to-face with your wet pussy.

Shunsui let a long swipe against your wet folds. He groaned at your taste, suckling on your clit as one of his fingers entered you.

You were seeing stars, loudly moaning at how intense Shunsui was with your pussy. His thick finger was already so full for you, then he added two more, earning a deep groan from you. Your orgasm was approaching, as you threaded your fingers in Shunsui’s curls. His large nose rubbed along your slick pussy as he lapped away, savouring your taste.

You shrieked as your orgasm came, your pussy drenching his face with your wetness. Your face was flushed as you laid on the massage bed, watching Shunsui sit up and straighten himself out. A lazy, smug smile appeared on Shunsui face as he watched you in satisfaction, trying to ride out the remnants of your orgasm.

Shunsui pulled you up, kissing your forehead as your body began to calm down. Your pussy throbbed from what had just happened, but you wanted more of it, and more of him.

“If you’re free the rest of the evening, why don’t you come back to my place, Shunsui?” You asked, spreading your bare legs again as if to entice him.

Another lazy grin graced Shunsui’s face, “I thought you’d never ask.”

As he helped you finish the remaining tasks to close your salon, the headache he had and the boring paperwork, were a distant memory to him. A memory soon to be replaced by the sounds of your moans, the feel of your pussy and mouth around his cock, and your flushed body next to his.

TBC in face sitting.

Thanks for reading!!

[ipegchangbin]

I HHAVE TO SO MUCH BOY PUSSY THOUGHTS BUT LIKE IM SHAKING AND ESOC DHD OGMGG right but what are you thoughts on fem!skz???? uz the brainrot has been getting to me and i personally believe there just arent ENOUGH fem!skz like whaat happened to the pussy? the cunt? THE PUM PUM

sorry. i loved your drabble though and just your work in general and im not kidding when i say that wehn i saw you actually answered my request and then saw said request on my dashboard thingy I LITERALLY PUT MY HANDS UP IN THE AIR AND WAS YAYAYAYAYA!?!?!?!

URE RIGHT LIKEEE WHAT HAPPENED TO THE PUMPUMHDSJJDJSNS

💗 nsfw fem!skz thoughts

🏷️ fem!skz, gn!reader, smut smut smut

— bang chan

chan’s beautiful, bubbly, a little busty with a big butt. she’s everything you would want in a girl: a giggly lady with a pretty body. she’s very preppy, a little clingy once you two get together, but in bed? she’s a blushing mess! she loves when you chat her up only to talk her down, let her babble several flavors of nonsense and moan with that sweet curly accent of hers. her dimples show every time she clenches her jaw in pleasure. chan loves getting herself off on your fingers, riding them, even just grinding on them through her clothed cunt…and she loves when you make her feel a little dirty about it. her butt is the plumpest, it feels good to grope and massage, and best of all — it gets red when she blushes! chan is a giggly girl who’s heavenly to play with.

— minho

a competitive peer turned blunt best friend turned snappy girlfriend, minho’s the prettiest yet sharpest lady you’ve ever come across. she loves keeping things traditional, making you court her to even get a glimpse of her reciprocated love, but when she fell back for you it was all worth it. minho loves to keep half of her long hair up in a bun while the rest flows down past her shoulders, framing her beautiful body against the kitchen counters as she whips you up your favorite meal. a few hours after dinner, you have her over the same counter, fucking her cunt well. she loves to moan your name and make you feel how much she loves you. she gets wet so easily when you moan back, when you tell her you adore her. you figure that she tastes better than her own cooking.

— changbin

what’s not to love about changbin? she was love at first sight turned the love of your life. you fell for the way she looked with her love handles, tummy, and big breasts, and as soon as she spoke to you, it was all real. she’s gentle and kind, offering to help you with whatever work you need. changbin gets very shy when you abandon your work and grab her by the hips and breasts instead. she wears her curly hair long and down and the curtains match the drapes: she has the bush of a lifetime. secretly loves it whenever you’re between her thighs or all up in her cleavage smelling her after her workouts, all before going to town and fucking her ever so sweetly. she’s a muscle mommy who calls you mommy. oh, and changbin in an evening dress—the ones that hug her form, accentuating her belly and toned ass—is a sight to see. she’s absolutely obsessed with lovemaking after her shower. a clean and fresh woman, she’ll take every bit of your body worship before your dates to heart.

— hyunjin

she’s the classiest lady you’ve ever met. always does herself up, wears the prettiest makeup, and always fixes her hair in the middle of your dates. she smells heavenly; it’s french cologne mixed with a bit of your after-sex musk. hyunjin always finds herself getting fucked every time she’s with you, and you don’t know if it’s her irresistible energy or the fact that she’s needier than you. and when the dates reach past midnight, she only becomes cinderella in a way that she takes you home with her, designer clothes to the floor, revealing even more expensive lingerie underneath. class, elegance, all that demure shit flies out of the window as soon as you’re working your mouth on her petite boobs. when it’s all done, she glows in your arms and embraces you, kissing you all over with sweet words between her lips. she’s the most beautiful woman in the world.

— han jisung

han’s a charming woman who’s a bit of a geek. she’s a self-deemed loser, but so incredibly far from the doozy girl she claims to be. you don’t mind her armpit hair, her layered cut, and the leg hair she never wants to shave: she’s charming and attractive for that. firmly believes in having her nips out and it’s so cute of her. jisung is very carefree, and it extends to the sex too. she secretly likes it when you cuddle yet feel her up. she loves it when you sneak your hand under your shorts. she loves it when you’re being nonchalant and casual, eating her out while she’s watching a movie, moaning and whining slightly while all dazed. you hum and call her beautiful, the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen, and it does something to her. maybe she’s a bit of a perverted girl too, getting off on your compliments when you’re gone and out of her room.

— felix

a girl’s girl through and through. she loves you very much but there are many reasons why you love her more. she has everything on her: need chapstick? it’s either she pulls one out of her magic tote bag — or she kisses you! need a pen? she’ll even write for you! need to eat her out? she’ll spread her legs before you even blink! she’s always happy and smiley even if you’re playing with her freckled pussy. you tell her that she’s pretty when she smiles, making her grin even more. felix always has her hair done in different crazy styles, but always up whenever she wants to return the favor on you. adores you whenever you catch her out of breath from your fingers and mouth alone. you always kiss every one of her freckles, even the ones near her clit to tease her — and every single time, she falls harder and harder in love with you.

— seungmin

if there was any lady who matched you best, she’d be seungmin. she’s blunt with her words but she means well whenever she talks to you. it was a surprise the first time she asked for sex, simply letting honesty take over and let her know that she wanted you. loves talking you up even if you’re going down on her. she never shaves nor trims her bush, and you find her smirk so attractive every time you find her clit. all that snarky attitude dissolves as soon as you kiss further into her clit, teasing her ass and playing with the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. she’s kind of obsessed with the way you show her own cum in your mouth. gets even more delirious when you tug on her short hair and tell her dirty compliments. she feels the most like a woman when you work your way with her — just make sure to take her out on a date and pay the bill right after.

— jeongin

jeongin’s a lady who never backs down from an adventure. from exploring the outdoors to exploring each other’s bodies, she’s an open woman who doesn’t hesitate to love you right. she’s wild in many senses: you’ve fucked while alone in public once. it’s her spirit that charms you most, you think as you pound into her ass — her request. she’s sweet and very talkative, telling you all about the kinky shit she wants to do the later in night while curling her hair for work. jeongin loves being pampered and pampering you back. she wears your favorite sets of lingerie, or if you prefer it, wears nothing at all when you get home to her. she gets deliciously needy every time you play with her nipples out of nowhere. but even after all the adventures, her cunt might as well be your home.

[hbyrde36]

STWG Daily Prompt 04/28/24

as chosen by our own @penny00dreadful

Fairytale✨

He was never going to find her.

Steve sighed heavily, letting his lunch tray drop to the table as he plopped down into his seat next to Nancy and Jonathan, the spot he’d been occupying ever since he’d had some sense knocked into him and dumped Tommy and Carol as friends for good. 

He’d gotten a lot of funny looks for that move, not only because he’d nuked his popularity along with his friendships, but because Nancy had dumped him for Jonathan, or so the rumor mill said, and yet here he was beside them. The truth was that their uncoupling had been a mutual decision, they just didn’t care enough to correct the narrative. 

But, back to Steve’s lament. 

It’d been almost a week since he saw her, the mystery girl that he’d spent almost the entire Halloween Ball with. They hadn’t spoken at all, the music had been too loud for that, but they’d stuck close to each other all night, danced, shared a few laughs as they pointed out their classmates' costumes–both good and bad– and shared a brief, but earth shattering kiss in a dark corner of the gym.

Now normally, Steve wouldn’t have been caught dead at one of the school’s dances, but his high school career was rapidly coming to a close, and honestly he was just trying to get himself out there, make some better memories before he was forced to grow up and enter the adult world.

Also… Nancy and Jonathan had made him.

Then they’d ditched him to go make out in the darkroom, but that was fine, It’d all been worth it to meet—her.

Steve only stepped away for a moment to get them a couple drinks, but when he returned to their spot by the bleachers, she was gone, the only evidence that she’d ever been there at all was a ring left behind on the floor. He picked it up, remembering how she’d fiddled with them a lot, her many rings, and must have dropped this one without realizing. 

He pocketed it, knowing it would be the key to finding her again.

Because, and this was his dilemma, on top of not knowing his mystery girl’s name, he also had no idea what she really looked like. While his Indiana Jones costume had left no question as to his own identity, she’d been dressed as a mummy, wrapped up in layers of gauzy fabric, only showing off her long dark curly hair, the biggest most gorgeous brown eyes he’d ever seen, and perfect pink pouty lips.

After spending the last several days combing the school, asking every brunette he came across if the ring was hers—to no avail—Steve had all but given up, assuming the girl had been someone’s friend or cousin visiting from out of town.

“What’s all this?” Steve asked, finally noticing the stack of photos Jonathan had spread out on the table around them. 

Jonathan took a bite of his sandwich, answering with his mouth still half full. “group shots of all the clubs for the yearbook, I just got them developed.”

Steve pushed his own lunch away, not hungry, and pulled a few of the pictures closer to him. He wasn’t really looking, looking, there wouldn’t be anyone in those pictures he hadn’t already seem roaming the halls, or so he thought. Then he spotted a familiar piece of jewelry on the finger of someone entirely unexpected. 

Eddie Munson, head of the Hellfire Club. 

He reached into his pocket and pulled the ring out, keeping it hidden under the table as he looked between it and the one in the photo. Same band, same stone, same black nail polish on the hand’s fingers too.

Dark curly hair, check. 

Big beautiful brown eyes, check. 

Soft pouty pink lips, double check.

Okay, so, the mystery girl wasn’t a girl at all. It explained why he’d had so much trouble finding her at least.

Steve sat with that fact throughout the rest of the lunch period, and by the time the bell rang had decided that it didn’t change a thing. He wasn’t freaked out that he’d kissed a boy, he didn’t even care that it was Munson, certified freak and D&D nerd. He was a little embarrassed that he’d assumed his special someone was a girl just because he had long hair and pretty eyes, but moving past that—

Now Steve just had to woo his man.

“Hey, Munson?” Steve called out as he jogged down the hallway, approaching the other boy from behind just as he was closing his locker. 

Eddie startled, his eyes going wide as he turned to see who had snuck up on him, but recovered quickly.

“Steeeeeeeve Harrington, what can I do for his former-royal-highness?”

Steve stepped in close, glancing around to make sure no one was watching them before he took Eddie’s hand, gently turning it over, and placed the ring in the center of his palm.  

“I think you dropped this.”

Permanent taglist (open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers

[katerinaaqu]

The Why never asked and the Because that never mattered

This is a fic I was planning for quite a long time but I wanted to post for the birthday of @dionysism !! Happy Birthday!

Helen was being pulled. That was what she knew because what she felt was an absolute mess inside her like a skein of red wool that was given to a cat to play with and that cat had tangled the thing beyond recognition; it could be that several threads were already severed and yet they were tangled again and again and there was no way of whether they were indeed cut off or not. Helen of Troy, former considering herself Helen of Sparta was feeling a similar way. She was being pulled by the steady hand of her husband covered with his crimson chlamys, not being able to see anything around her but the dirt beneath her feet and yet the sounds that came to her ears; cries of pain mixed with wild triumph wouldn’t let her calm. The smell of fire was also apparent and the metallic scent of blood. She had taken a glimpse of that before and yet Menelaus had chosen to cover her from this. When she was driven to his presence Menelaus was silent. His eyes; those flaming eyes she had missed so much to see from up-close were only staring at her as if he aimed to burn holes into her soul. Helen would stare at him for hours. He had prepared herself for the reunion almost the full decade that she spent at Troy, somehow she knew her husband would come for her; she knew it deep down her soul, knowing his pride, his honor… The moment she lay a foot to the holy city of Troy accompanied by her then new husband Paris, she knew that moment that Menelaus would want to see this city burn. Somehow he had succeeded. She had heard also the plan created by her previous suitor Odysseus. Menelaus and Odysseus had showed up in Troy to negotiate, after arriving at their doors with over 1000 ships. Helen knew. She didn’t need the intelligence she had to realize that if her husband had called upon Odysseus that it didn’t matter what the elders would say. Menelaus would burn the city! Odysseus would help him and do what it would be necessary for victory regardless the price! Seeing the two so mismatched men (one of tall and royal structure with blondish-red hair and honey eyes like the sunset and the other shorter yet immensely structured, hairy and curly like a ram, black of hair and eyes like the night) looking towards her she knew. She knew that these two would make the world burn. Ever since she was preparing herself for the inevitable confrontation with her previous, her true husband… But nothing truly helped when she saw those flaming eyes of his, framed by the blood that had splattered his face, staring at her; blood dripping from his bronze sword.

Helen was looking at him and he was looking at her. Those eyes that belonged to a lion staring upon a beautiful doe in the forest; was something Helen could barely handle. She stood steadfast like the queen she was. She was dressed in a very simple dress without any makeup to her beautiful face and her tresses cascaded down her sides like a waterfall of gold. She had no jewelry on her or anything else to prove her royal status but her fierce eyes; those fierce dark gray, almost black eyes with the small irises of gold that made Menelaus weak at the knees once. However now Menelaus too was staring deep in them and his eyes seemed to be unmoving. Helen had hoped to manipulate some sympathy into her husband so that she could at least save the life of her daughter, Helen, the last daughter she had left from her marriage with Paris. She hoped her husband would see her as a woman now; not as a casus belli. He hoped that at least her daughter would escape his rage. She had never seen Menelaus so enraged before. Never.

“Helen…”

That voice was a throaty growl. It wasn’t human! She looked at his face; she memorized every new wrinkle that the 10 years of warfare had placed upon him. She could truly see him for the first time after a decade. Oh, how changed and how same he looked at the same time! His mouth was tight; the lips that kissed her so passionately before, now were like a tight line, playing and twitching in fury.

“Menelaus…” she forced her throat and lips form the name

Right there and then her voice broke a spell in the air. Her husband had also not seen her in a decade, hadn’t heard her voice in a decade. Then she saw the true meaning of his name before her; The Rage of the People! It was as if the rage of the entire Sparta was gathered in his gaze! His hand clenched upon the sword he was holding and slowly raised it. Fear twitched in her eyes.

“Please…” she croaked out

Menelaus made a step. And another. And another.

“Please!”

For once second her previous courage left her; it was the instinctual fear of every creature before the face of doom. Menelaus raised his sword over his head and then she just felt her knees buckle.

“NO!”

Her scream was unhinged; raw. She threw herself at his feet, getting to grab onto his knees the last second. Menelaus stiffened. He tried to break free but she held him close.

“Please! I beg of you! Have mercy! Have mercy! Let me at least explain myself! Do not do this before I have the chance to explain to you!”

Menelaus growled and tried once more to kick himself free but he knew he couldn’t. His reaction was weak! She realized it was the first time she touched him and, by gods, it was hugging his legs that were splattered with dirt and blood from the city that sheltered her from his rage!

“What is there to explain?!” Menelaus roared, “How can you explain what you did! Ten years, Helen! Ten bloody long years!”

“Please! Have mercy! I beseech you! In the name of our daughter!”

“Don’t you DARE to mention MY daughter!” Menelaus roared, “You left her behind! Like a beast of the forest who leaves their offspring behind to heal your passion! You have no right to bring her name to your wrenched lips! Damn the moment she was born to see the shame of her own mother! You have no right to speak the name of MY Hermione! Not anymore!”

Helen wailed once more as every word he spoke was a knife to her heart sharper than the sword that was now ominously threatening to take her life.

“Don’t…please…!” she cried, “Have mercy…don’t kill me with your words like this! Don’t be so cruel to me! Don’t say this about my daughter! There was not one day in my life that I didn’t think of her! That I didn’t wish she was there to hug her and apologize to her! Please Menelaus! I beg of you…give me one last chance to explain! That’s all I ask! Please!”

“Say what you have to say!” Menelaus growled, “Get up! Get up, woman!”

He practically raised her back to her feet in a violent, bruising grip and yet Helen was intelligent enough to notice the shift in his voice. Her pleading had reached some part of his heart that he dressed in stone. She knew his touch and he knew hers. He knew she was telling the truth. She tried to collect herself and her thoughts.

“I didn’t…I didn’t wish for this to happen, Menelaus. I…the gods have played a cruel game to me…to you…to this city and the Greeks! It was Aphrodite! She promised my hand to Paris! She sparked this cursed feeling inside me! I never stopped loving you, Menelaus! Never, I swear! I swear it upon the life of my children! I have no more sacred oath than that!”

The shadow that passed over her husband’s eyes made her heart stop. It was as if her words only sparked more anger inside him; the anger he was accumulating and nourishing for over a decade of war!

“How DARE you!” he whispered dangerously, “The gods?! Aphrodite?! How DARE you use the gods to mask your sins and infidelity! How DARE you use the name of my daughter for this!”

“Menelaus…stop please!”

“I should have known!” Menelaus ignored her, “The spawn of a woman who felt her passion being sparked by a beast! I should have known better than falling for such a charm! I should have known better than hoping that such a spawn wouldn’t be happy news for me! Cursed the moment I met you! Cursed the moment I married you! Cursed the moment I lo-…”

The word choked in his throat. Her heart clenched. He hesitated to declare his love for her. He hesitated for the first time she ever knew him. That chocked word shocked her much more than his half-blasphemy to her divine father; much more than his sudden action. He grabbed her arm in a bruising grasp, turning to his soldier.

“COME HERE!” he ordered, “Take this woman outside where she will be stoned to death! She will pay for the lives she took upon her! She will pay for the lives she DESTROYED!”

“NO!” Helen now shrieked

Adrenaline gave her probably strength beyond her human capabilities for she broke free from her husband’s painful grip with one violent yank of her arm. Not this, she thought! Any form of death was welcome now that she failed to break through her husband, but not this! She couldn’t die like a common traitor.

“NO! PLEASE!” she begged, “If I am to die, let me die with dignity! Let me die by your own hand! Let me end my own life if you have to! Let me die like a queen! Not like a traitor! Please!”

She violently tore her dress apart. Her naked breasts came in sight. Menelaus’s gaze fell upon them; the way this chest hosted her beating heart; the heart he had rested his ear against so many times, feeling her breathing soothing him! Her breasts remained youthful and beautiful like the day he met her! The years hadn’t withered her divine beauty away!

“RIGHT HERE!” Helen cried, tears running down her cheeks, “Put your sword here right now! I’d rather die by the hands of the man I love than this! Please! Let me die with dignity! You owe me this! Please!”

Menelaus looked at her; the violent palpitations of her chest…and then he looked at her face; her beautiful face scarred by tears and despair; her face that remained divinely beautiful despite the years, no, the years of sadness and agony seemed to have transformed her even more beautiful than before. It was as if her sadness, her GENUINE sadness that she had felt all these years, the suffering and longing, had made her even more beautiful in his eyes. Her hair was messed up, her face pure without any paint or cosmetics; her natural scent that didn’t need any perfumes or aromatic oils to make him longing for her; her body and heart and spirit. How could such a beauty go to waste? How could he destroy this divine creature? How could he destroy the woman he loved?

“ARGH” he roared throwing his sword away, “DAMMIT!”

“My lord?” his soldier asked, “Shall we proceed?”

“No!” Menelaus yelled, “I can’t! I can’t!”

Yes, he realized he couldn’t. He couldn’t kill her, he couldn’t watch her getting killed, and he couldn’t order her death. He couldn’t part from her again!

“I can’t! Damned be my name and my weakness but I can’t see this through! Zeus and the immortals forgive me, I can’t destroy this woman! If I do, I am destroying myself! If I kill her I die with her!”

Helen felt her tears increasing but this time the warm tears were coming straight from her heart; this organ that was pumping her blood steadily but also this wrenched tool that betrayed her after goddess Aphrodite clouded her judgment. She saw Menelaus now; the man she loved and chosen as her husband! Taking a bald step she took his hand, the hand painted in blood and tar. Wetting it with her own salty tears she kissed it. She was placing her life in his hands. There was nothing else she could do; nothing else she wished to do. She felt him stiffen but it was not unpleasant this time. Not like before. As she was bended down, she felt the chlamys covering her head like a veil.

“Dammit!” Menelaus cursed again, “Let’s get the hell out of here!”

She felt her husband pulling her away and fast. Helen didn’t know what her fate would be; what her position would be now and she didn’t expect much but she felt like she could trust Menelaus. More than just her love for him was her trust to his heart.

That had happened quite a couple of hours prior, however it felt like an eternity to Helen. They reached his tent, that much she knew, judging from the sounds of the soldiers around. Beneath her fit she could be the ends of the Achaean tents that were set up very fast just enough so they could pass the night; obviously not like the organized camp they were before thanks to the ploy by Odysseus to pretend they were leaving. Quite frankly most soldiers didn’t even have their tents ready. Just the kings and lords were having some shelter for the night (which was getting over anyways). He saw the material of the tent open and Menelaus pushed her in. Only then his chlamys left her head. Menelaus had spoken no word to her ever since that encounter. She heard him yelling orders hither-thither but not one word had reached her ears that was addressed to her; no words of anger but neither words of encouragement either. She was at least relieved that some of the orders he made were concerning her little girl, making sure she came with them. That seemed enough for her. They entered the cozy environment of the tent. Helen clenched her dress closer, covering herself the best she could. However her husband, half staggered inside, removed his helm and let it fall somewhere. He was feeling crushed and tired; too tired to even bother himself with his armor. His hair was matted, painted in blood. Helen even noticed some white strands coming out of it. How much had he suffered too? How much had the longing and waiting cost him? Menelaus, the king of Sparta, even tiredly half-tripped against his own helm, ignoring its existence on the tent’s floor. A slave rushed to pick it up.

“Leave it!” Menelaus roared, “Out! Everyone out!”

She saw them all run out, terrified by his sudden yell. She stood her ground. She watched him struggle with his armor as if it would choke him but she didn’t dare to come closer to assist him. She felt like he needed his space; what had happened that night was not easy for anyone. Helen still mourned the city; the people who didn’t judge her. She mourned herself too; for feeling happiness being with her husband again even with such a terrible price to pay. Menelaus, finally free from the leather and bronze, he let the armor fall to the floor with a clang. Helen couldn’t remember seeing him this exhausted; this burnt out before. He moved his head, hearing cracking sounds from his nape. He silently went to a bronze bowl of water and splashed plenty on his face and over his hair, in some attempt to make himself presentable. With some of the blood gone, Helen clearly saw the gray hairs in his reddish head; like snowflakes on top of dry leaves. Menelaus…her Menelaus seemed drained and prematurely old despite his face being as handsome as she remembered. She watched him dry himself with a towel, which he also abandoned on the floor. She saw the blood stains on the towel and she cursed herself for thinking “Thank gods! This isn’t his blood…he is not hurt…” The thought brought tears to her eyes. She didn’t want to know how many people’s blood he was carrying on him. Menelaus poured a glass of wine for himself and drank deeply from his golden cup. How strange, she thought, gold and jewelry; how insignificant these seemed now before the face of war and death! How much death had they brought upon this earth! The silence was choking her. She couldn’t stand it!

“Menelaus…I…”

Her whisper was cut off by one move of Menelaus’s hand; a silent order, perhaps a silent pledge. She obeyed. Menelaus once more finished his drink and then he sat upon his couch, or perhaps it was his bed now. Helen saw how, despite the fact the tent was cozy and wide; she noticed the difference of her life and his all these years; Menelaus lived in a military camp for more than 10 years while she was living in the palace. No wonder he was so older than his age now; the sorrow, the guilt, the longing in combination to the conditions he lived in, could have their toll at any man. Menelaus seemed to be taking a breath to speak; as if to collect his thoughts.

“For ten years…” he finally whispered, voice hoarse and tired, “During all these years I had dreamt of this moment, Helen…”

It was the first time he addressed her so softly after a decade. Helen felt her heart palpitating and shivering. His rage before was all forgotten to her. His voice now was making her weak at the knees; the softness of her husband she had missed so much.

“I have played it in my head so many times that I had thought I knew every word I wanted to say or reply to you…” he scoffed humorlessly in self-sarcasm, “But, by gods, now I cannot even find a single word to say! The only thing I can say now -the one thing that tormented me all these years- is… Why, Helen? Why?”

His eyes locked with hers; her almost dark and yellow ones; the eyes that looked like stormy sky plundered by lightning.

“Why did you do this to me? Why…?”

The pain! The seer agony! She could almost see the tears down his cheeks even if he heroically was holding them back.

“Menelaus…I…”

“Yes, I know” he interrupted her, “Aphrodite… By gods, Helen…I don’t know what to believe! However that is not what I am asking…”

She waited. She didn’t even need to speak again to know his intentions.

“Why did you…for ten years, Helen…you waited there for ten years… You saw me nearly slaying your precious Paris…him being saved by gods… You still chose him, Helen…even then…you chose him…”

Then she saw it. One single tear ran down his cheek. His voice broke.

“Why, Helen…” he repeated like a mantra, “Why did you push me to the edge? Why did things have to go this way?”

There were a million things she would want to say; many excuses and true reasons. She could have said how she was still under the influence of Aphrodite. She could have said that she had a family she wanted to protect; her precious children that were not at fault, the children that died so unfairly in an earthquake and the children she mourned. She could have said how grateful she was to king Priam for understanding and protecting her, to Hector who supported her, to Andromache who accepted her. She could speak on the years she spent with these people. She could speak on her daughter, her little Helen, that remained alive…on the fact that they chose a new husband for her against her will. However none of this seemed useful now. Her tears ran down her cheeks again, her throat burning and feeling tied in a knob.

“Does it matter now…?” she whispered, “Would anything I say make things better now after so long? Will this give back the lives to all the Greeks that fell or the Trojans that got slain? Will anything I say undo this disaster we did…?”

Yes, she included him. She knew he would have too. Menelaus called upon the greatest army in the world, he agreed upon a bloody war, he agreed upon a scheme to take the city at night and the slaughter of innocents. She knew he knew he was not innocent; just like she wasn’t.

“No…” Menelaus whispered, “No, it doesn’t…”

His honey eyes locked in hers. She didn’t know what to make of it. His stare was as intense as the needle that pierces through the skin when the healer closes a wound. As if being self-conscious, she clenched her dress close to her chest again. Menelaus followed the movement with his eyes. Then his arm extended.

“Come here…”

It was a soft order; a pleading. Helen moved slowly, taking his hand in hers; eliminating the distance between them. She followed his lead as she slowly knelt before him, looking up at his face. His hand softly touched her cheek. She shivered. The night was cold but his hand was so warm! His fingers traced her cheek; phantom touch against her skin. His thumb trailed her lips. Helen felt more tears running but this time it wasn’t despair. His hand slowly went down the side of her throat, slowly slipping in her dress to caress the flesh of her shoulder. She turned her head by instinct, kissing his wrist. She felt him shiver. There was a soft squeeze on her shoulder; en encouragement to make her stand again. She did. His hands then opened her dress again to reveal her chest. He looked at her for a few seconds and then she saw him come undone, like a dam collapsing, filling a lake with water fast!

“Gods!” he whispered

And his arms pulled her close. It was a desperate embrace! It was the type of hugging a dying man would do to their deity, begging for a few more seconds upon the land of the living! His face buried in her bosom and she felt his wet tears on her skin; his arms, strong and secure, fisting upon the material of her dress and her back. Her own arms by instinct flew around him; around his head and she pulled him in her even further as the king of Sparta sobbed. This time Helen’s eyes were dry. It was as if she needed to be strong for him; allowing him to be weak now, to be with her! His shoulders were shivering from sobbing but he made no sound. He half raised his head only to kiss each one of her breasts. His lips were burning! Her heard raised her pulse. The last kiss was placed right in the middle; right over her heart, hammering against her ribcage.

“Please…” he begged, “Hold me, Helen! Hold me like this…”

“Yes…” Helen whispered hugging his head again, “Always…always…”

The man she loved more than life itself looked up and softly pulled her on his knees.

“Kiss me…” he begged again, “Please…kiss me…!”

The encouragement was not needed. She cupped his cheeks with both her white soft hands and her lips landed on his. She heard him whimper. His hands desperately clasped her hair and the other around her body. He kissed her like his life depended on it; like her soul was being transferred inside him. After ten long years! Finally Tears escaped his eyes. It was as if he was dying. The lip locking lasted a few seconds before Menelaus pulled back and half-fell behind. One of his arms was still holding her but the hand that clasped on her locks so tightly before, flew behind him as if to stop his fall. It was as if his heart had stopped for a small second.

“Menelaus!” she worriedly held onto his shoulders

“I’m fine…” Menelaus panted softly, “I’m fine…”

She used the edge of her sleeve to mop the droplets of sweat off his forehead; suddenly his skin feeling cold to the touch his breath coming out harshly. She could tell something was wrong with him; worry biting her soul like a snake. He tried to stabilize his breath as he looked up at her.

“Don’t look at me like that…” he begged weakly, “Please…not you…not like that!”

Tears burnt again in Helen’s eyes. The daughter of Zeus shook her head negatively, placing a kiss on her husband’s forehead, curling against him like a dove. His arms embraced her tighter than before. Her ear caught the sound of his heart; it was irregular! Only to stabilize bit by bit. She held him tightly as if she wanted to transfer her health to him. She wouldn’t let him go again! Never!

“Hold me, Menelaus…” she now begged back, hoping transferring her need for him would help, “Please...never again! Let me stay like this with you…never let me go again!”

Her palm rested against his chest; against his heart. She thanked all gods of Olympus that the heartbeat had stabilized. She could tell by his breathing and temperature too.

“Promise me…” she urged, “You will not let me go…you will not leave me! Never again!”

It was a foolish wish, she knew, but the deteriorating of his health alarmed her. She wanted him, only him, she would never marry another man again but him. She made a promise to herself that even if it cost her, her life, she would keep this man on this earth. He deserved it! Menelaus softly sighed and held her tighter.

“I promise…” she heard him whisper

There was no more need for words between them. No more reasoning was necessary.

***

Sooo yeah I feel lke we do not have so many Helen x Menelaus fics out there and is a shame given how much of a couple they are and how they have been through so much together! And how their love was enough to forget the years they spent apart!

Menelaus trying to kill Helen but being moved by her beauty or her pleading for her life is a detail mentioned in later sources, also depending on the source he wanted to kill her himself or have her stoned to death! As usually I decided to combine sources! Hahaha! Hopefully this works!

For the scene in Menelaus's tent I was severely inspired by an amazing Greek composer named Kostas Kapnisis (Κώστας Καπνίσης) who created soundtracks for some greek movies including an amazing movie for the greek revolution and one of the heroes taking part in it, Papaflessas. In the movie of 1971, one of the pieces of the soundtrack is called Erotiko (Ερωτικό) aka "erotic" or "of love" or "of eros" and on my word is was just perfect in my head!

Just listen the soft melody! TT-TT So them!

I also wanted to show Helen's strength and intelligence but also the fact that all characters were broken in sadness at that time.

Also Menelaus collapsing, you can see my headcanon of Menelaus suffering from his heart. I had made a small analysis on it you can find it here

Now I can memorize many good blogs here that create really beautiful Menelaus and Helen art. Some of those that I know and follow are @thehelplessmortals for some more historic style and others like @smokey07 in a more anime-like style. I must say Menelaus definitely needs more love out there! Both for his friendship with Odysseus as well as for his relationship with Helen and the reconsiliation they had!

Now the design for Helen I had in mind was blonde woman due to beauty standards plus how it is generally much rarer color especially for south Europe also Dares the Phrygian elleged account also names her as such but honestly I have seen great designs of hers looking amazing in red or brown or black hair! The eyes of hers (dark gray with sparkles of yellow) was a totally random thing in my head maybe to connect her with Zeus. Just a random idea I had this morning!

[writing-intheundercroft]

You're Gonna Go Far - O. Gaunt

AO3 Link

Word Count: 10,956

Rating: E (The boys are in a fraternity, Smut, Oral Sex (F receiving), Unprotected Sex, NSFW, MDNI)

Summary: It's the night before graduation, and Ominis Gaunt is moving to New York City next week. There isn't much time left to say all the things that have gone unsaid over the past seven years.

A/N: I'm in the loveliest Ominis server on Discord, and this is dedicated to @grandeoatmilklatte, who inspired frat president Ominis. I hope you enjoy!

You walk up the steps of the splintered porch, taking great care to not slip on the beer a freshman has dropped on the stoop.  Graduation ceremonies start in the morning and the spring chill has broken, giving way to a gorgeous May evening.  It’s just warm enough that you’ve got the slightest glisten on your collarbone from your fast pace walk, abandoning the bar scene for your best mates’ last frat party ever.  

“Very nice,” a voice purrs behind you. “You do always look pretty when you polish up.”

You roll your eyes, swatting at a sweaty Lucan Brattleby as he dodges your aim. “Buzz off, Luc.  Have you seen Sebastian and Ominis?”

“Sebastian is somewhere getting his face sucked off by Cressida,” Lucan chuckles, brushing back his curly mop. “And I haven’t seen Ominis all night, except when he yelled at me for trying to get into his room.”

You raise an eyebrow, resting a hand on your hip as you bounce your heel against the porch.  You swallow away the lump in your throat, hoping Ominis isn’t off getting slobbered on by a girl. Whatever liquid courage you’ve consumed this evening is already wearing thin, and the sight of Ominis with a stranger might shatter you.  

“And why were you trying to get into his room?” You ask, trying to pry.

Lucan shrugs. “Well, the president’s room gets passed down to the next president,” he jerks his thumb back to himself proudly. “And I wanted to measure for my furniture next semester.  I think I could fit a wet bar in there.”

You try to stifle your snort, tossing your hair over your shoulder. “I’m going in to find him,” you announce, stepping through the threshold.  With the door open, the music bleeds out onto the porch.  

It’s so loud, you can feel the bass from the music thumping in your stomach.  Garreth is in the kitchen, peddling some of his tonics; Amit and Andrew are in the living room, scolding some younger students for touching the large telescope situated by the windows. You spot Sebastian leaning against the stair railing, a cup of beer in his hand. You have to wade through a sea of bodies just to reach him.

”It’s about time you showed up,” Sebastian teases, swirling his beer. Your freckled friend has his shirt unbuttoned quite low, and you notice several young ladies shooting jealous glances your way. It's laughable that they'd be envious - Sebastian has never been anything more than a pesky brother to you, growing even closer in the years since Anne's passing.

”I thought you would be getting your face sucked off by Cressida,” you mock Lucan’s words, and Sebastian groans.

“I’ve been trying to escape her all night,” he tilts his head, appraising your outfit. Sebastian can be a touch overprotective when you go out on the town, and you wouldn’t put it past him to say something about how cold you must be in your slip dress.  “Bar night with the girls go well?”

”Imelda had to take Poppy home before she puked in another planter. Think she has a few of Garreth’s brews before we even hit the town.” you laugh as you talk about your roommates, crossing your arms over your chest.  “And if you’re going to criticize my clothes—“

“I think you look beautiful,” Sebastian offers. “Ominis is going to think so too.”

You blush. “Ominis doesn’t care for clothes.”

”Ominis cares for you ,” Sebastian points out, lifting the cup to his lips. “Have you seen him yet?”

You shake your head. “I was going to check his room, but didn’t want to stop him if he was…er, busy .” you wave your hands erratically, hoping Sebastian would get the gist of your implication.

Sebastian snorts, grinning over the edge of the plastic cup. “Definitely not.  Tell you what, head up to his room—I’ll send him up when I see him.”

You swat at him, but head up the stairs to the third floor anyways.  Passing by throngs of students enjoying the last weekend of term, you push your way to the door neatly labeled O. Gaunt, President.

The door seems to know you’re one of Ominis’s welcomed guests, so it unlocks itself for you. Ominis has always been nifty at protective spells, his door clearly charmed to only let in select visitors.  And much to your relief, the room is empty.  

You walk around the room, the door left ajar behind you. Ominis is a simple man, not keeping much more in his room other than a bed, desk, and the textbooks stacked neatly on his dresser.  The suit he’s been planning to wear to graduation is draped across the back of his armchair, but that’s not what catches your eye. What calls your attention the most are the two graduation gowns hanging in the closet–from afar they look identical, but you know better than anyone the implication behind both.

“I thought you were out for girls night.” 

“I couldn’t miss your last party ever, could I?”

You hear Ominis’s familiar breezy laugh. “I’d much rather be at a bar myself right now. It’s an absolute madhouse downstairs. I've been trying to keep it civilized.”

You don’t turn around; instead, you remain standing in Ominis’s closet, dragging a finger over the thick robe, trimmed with black and green velvet.  Ominis had originally planned to wear the same plain polyester school-issued robe as Sebastian, but a large box arrived on the front porch of the house earlier in the week. You, Sebastian, and Garreth lingered in the living room as Ominis carefully unwrapped the parchment paper, revealing a box with a gilded Gladrags logo.  Inside was the luxurious robe, accompanied by a satin stole.  It had the Gaunt family crest embroidered on the chest, the family motto dancing around his neck in metallic silver thread. 

Ex auro purissimo sanguinis. The purest of blood.

It was the first he’d heard from his family in almost six months–the note from Marvolo had stated if Ominis was going to represent the family in an official capacity, he needed to dress the part. Ominis immediately set the offending notecard on fire, the fancy box quickly thrown out their window and into the dumpster below. It was only after you’d gotten back to your flat that Sebastian texted; the box was empty in the trash can, but both the fancy robe and stole were hanging in Ominis’s closet.

“Which one will you wear?” You ask, turning your gaze over your shoulder.  

Ominis smiles, pushing a stray strand of blonde hair from his forehead.  Your devastatingly handsome best friend leans against the doorway, a red cup resting in his hand. Ominis has never been one to dress down–his version of a party outfit is a pair of neat, chino pants, an ironed button down layered over a tee shirt emblazoned with his fraternity letters. He fiddles with the handle of his wand in the other, the tip glowing a soft hazy red as he made sense of your placement in the bedroom.

“I think you know,” Ominis muses, swiftly moving from the doorway to his bed. “Wasn’t nearly as difficult of a decision to make as I thought.  The boys are my family now. Have been for a while.”

He sits atop the rickety full-sized bed, the springs of his mattress creaking beneath his weight.  You nearly laugh; Ominis is so tall, he looks comical perched on the misshapen bedframe. He’s never been good at transfiguration, but he’s too stubborn to let anyone else help him with his furniture.  Despite the odd furnishings, the rest of Ominis’s bedroom is neat and tidy.  His striped sheets are pristine, the duvet folded at the edge of the bed. It’s a far cry from Sebastian’s room, which is littered with papers and broken quills, or the room that Andrew and Garreth share at the end of the hall.  The two have nearly come to blows several times in the last semester over who would take the trash out.

“You still haven’t packed,” you hum, moving away from the closet and back over to his desk.  He hasn’t returned his books to the library yet, his magical ethics and muggle studies textbooks are still cracked open from finals. 

“I’ll get around to it,” Ominis shrugs.

“Lucan’s been bothering me about you packing,” you perch yourself on his desk chair. “Something about him wanting to get in and measure, so he can plan his furniture layout.  Said he wants to put a bar in the room.”

Ominis rolls his milky blue eyes, lifting the red cup to his lips. “Lucan isn’t president yet,” he reminds you. “I’m not sure when I’ll fully move out of the house. And he cannot build a wet bar in the bedroom, that’s unsanitary.”

You snort, spinning around slowly in the chair. “It’s nearly two o’clock. You’ll have bags under those pretty eyes of yours if you don’t get to bed soon.  Should I kick everyone out?”

Ominis laughs, setting the cup on the floor as he leans back in bed. “Let them have their fun,” he says fondly. “Sebastian needs one last party before he starts his rotations at St. Mungo’s.  Besides, I bet Garreth is making a fortune off his potions tonight.  Might as well clear out his entire stock on graduation parties. ”

You smile faintly as the music from downstairs bleeds up into the bedroom.  As far as fraternity houses go, there are certainly more posh ones on campus.  Ominis had been a legacy of the richest fraternity at school, one mostly of fellow purebloods and former Slytherins.  They’d spent the whole of first term trying to recruit him, baiting him with lavish dinners, free entrance to the clubs, and all the illicit beverages and substances one might desire.  But that wasn’t Ominis–unknowingly, they drove him even further into the opposite direction.  You can still remember bid day, and the shock on everyone’s faces when Ominis turned down their bid to join a humble off campus house with Sebastian. His family had been furious, specifically Marvolo–you can still remember the shouting match the brothers had gotten into, Marvolo slamming the dorm room shut after tearing Ominis to shreds.

Whilst most of the student body had expected Ominis to fade into obscurity after his controversial choice, quite the opposite happened.  Ominis truly flourished without the influence of his family, instead patching together a group of unexpected brothers. He surprised everyone when he became president his second year of uni, bringing some order to the rowdy gang of brothers with his natural born leadership skills.  What felt like a mishmash of random Hogwarts alumni suddenly became a little family, held together with Ominis as the glue.  

All in all, the shy, skinny Slytherin you once knew has really come into his own. 

“Knut for your thoughts?” Ominis asks, breaking you out of your reverie.

“Nothing,” you shrug, fixing the strap of your dress as you spin around once more. “It’s just weird, that’s all.”

“What’s weird?” Ominis asks softly, playing with his wand.  The tip has stopped glowing; he’s comfortable enough around you to not need his guide.

“That tomorrow, you graduate.” you utter. “And then, you’re gone.”

“Ah,” Ominis bites his bottom lip. “ That .”

It’s a subject the two of you have been avoiding for a while.  Ominis had spent the last few summers interning for the Wizengamot, fully expecting to work for them after graduating with his law degree.  Again, to everyone’s shock, Ominis had announced his intentions to apply for a position in the foreign office, working for MACUSA. You can still recall the doubt on Ominis’s face, brows furrowed as you and Sebastian helped him fill out his application before the deadline.  It had taken nearly an entire night, Sebastian snoring in an armchair while you sent the application off with an owl in the dark sky.

“We don’t even know if I’ll get it,” Ominis had said.

“You’re going to get it,” you assured him.  There was never a doubt in your mind.

Ominis received news of his placement with MACUSA at the end of fall term.  He was offered his first choice, a position in the foreign relations office, his first day of work being June 1st.  The celebration had lasted an entire week, until Garreth finally ran out of fizzing whizzbeer. The night was especially memorable, considering Ominis had also broken up with Nerida in the middle of the party.  He was unphased by both her screams and the beer that had flown in his face, Andrew and Garreth having to drag her out of the house. When asked about it the next morning, he’d merely shrugged it off. They hadn’t been dating longer than a month , Ominis pointed out.  Besides, he would be off to America soon enough.  Best to leave without baggage.

That thought sank in your stomach like a hot ball of lead.

“We really should start packing,” you remind him. “Unless you plan on arriving in New York with just a suitcase.”

“Maybe I’m thinking of not going,” Ominis mumbles. He leans back on the bed, unseeing eyes blinking up at the ceiling as he fumbles with his hand. “I know it looks bad on my part to decline a job this late, but–”

“Excuse me,” You gasp. “No buts, Ominis Gaunt.  You’re going to New York.”

“But what if they need me?” Ominis blurts. “Sebastian will be in London on his own, and you know he hates being alone now that Anne is gone.  And Lucan is still a little shit, he may need more experience before he’s ready to be president.  I worry he’ll bring his little dueling betting ring into the house, and I won’t stand to see the boys gambling their lives away.”

“Ominis,” you warn him. “You’re going.”

“And what about you?” Ominis asks softly. “You still have a year left here, I hate the thought of you being here by yourself.”

You pull yourself closer to the bed, the wheels of his desk chair squeaking on the floor.  “I’m going to be okay, Ominis.” You promise him. “You know, if you’re this anxious about it, we should probably get you a better cell phone.  I know how you feel about those muggle devices, but Sebastian and I really do find them useful. Not that owls aren’t efficient, but a transatlantic journey would take them quite a bit–”

Ominis’s hand is on yours, the sensation knocking the wind of your chest.

“You’ll be fine,” he murmurs. “It’s me I’m worried about.”

You stare at him, thankful he can’t see your gaze.  

Ominis has been your best friend for years now.  You can still remember him yelling at you the first time you left the Undercroft, his ire quickly fading away as soon as Sebastian forced the two of you into close proximity.  You’d shared more in common than you thought–a love for pranks, warm naps in the hallways, and an oddly similar affinity for banoffee pie. It wasn’t long before the three of you had become a package deal, hardly ever seen without the others.  It only made sense the three of you would go off to uni together after Hogwarts, you becoming somewhat of a house mother to Ominis, Sebastian, and the rest of the boys.

With that, you’d also spent the last four years of university watching Ominis date other girls.  There had never been anyone too serious, most of them being old acquaintances from Hogwarts, or pretty girls who’d stumbled into their parties.  They usually only lasted for weeks at a time, Ominis claiming he was far too busy taking care of his own brothers to handle a girlfriend as well. Usually in the end, the ladies would come sobbing at your doorstep, all wondering why they couldn’t get Ominis Gaunt to commit. 

At the same time, you’d had your fair share of fun and trouble at university–bad boyfriends, a few failed classes, all distracting you from your independent study on ancient magic. Enough so, you needed an extra two semesters under your belt to catch up on your dissertation.

“Are you scared?” you ask, voice soft. 

“Maybe,” Ominis admits, and it’s the first time in a very long time you’ve heard him express doubts. “The idea of being alone in New York is scary.  I’ve had you and Sebastian by my side for the last seven years, and I won’t know anyone.”

“You’re going to be great, Om.” you remind him. “You’re going to make a name for yourself in New York.  What would make you think otherwise?”

Ominis is chewing on his lower lip, thumb running over the back of your hand. “Marvolo called the this morning,” he admits, pointing to the little brick of a phone you and Sebastian had bullied him into buying. “It wasn’t good.”

“Oh, Om.” You sigh, pulling yourself closer. From this distance, you can smell the cool musk of his cologne, one of the little luxuries he maintains for himself. “What happened?”

Ominis hangs his head low, shaking out his dirty blond hair.  He normally has it gelled back, tidily done, but it seems a bit messy and disheveled. Out of character for your best mate.

“Said I was an embarrassment to the family,” Ominis mumbles. “That I should’ve taken the opportunity to work at Mulciber’s firm, and that Mother and Father are astounded I’d work for the government, let alone the Americans .” he says dramatically. 

“Your brother is an arse as usual,” you say defiantly. “And he has no idea how hard you’ve worked for this. Ominis, you’re the greatest treasure your family has ever lost, and I look forward to watching you prove them wrong.”

Ominis offers a small smile. “See?  What am I going to do without you as a voice of reason?”

Affection is nothing new for you.  The minute Sebastian and Ominis began bringing you around their brothers, it was made blatantly obvious that you were off limits.  Sebastian had threatened everyone, reminding them that you were practically their sister, and anyone who tried to make a pass at you would be dealt with swiftly. The first time one of the older boys had tried to kiss you, Ominis challenged him to a duel on the spot.  Within seconds, Ominis’s opponent was arse down on the floor, your best friend wrapping an arm around your shoulder to see if you were okay.

Nights spent in the library, sitting shoulder to shoulder as you studied.  Movie nights at the house, your legs tangled on the couch while Sebastian complained about sitting on the floor.  The two of you dancing around the kitchen, cooking up dinner while Lucan and Garreth played exploding snap at the table.  You can feel the thick lump forming in your throat as you try to imagine the next year without him.

“Remember what I said,” you swallow away your sadness. “If you want to go far–”

“You’ve got to go far.” Ominis repeats. “I know, you’re the one who told me to apply.”

You place your hand on his cheek, which is still rosy from the beer he’d been drinking. “You’re going to go to New York, Ominis.  And if you want to come home, we’ll be here.  Sebastian and me, we’ll be here.”

Ominis holds your hand to his cheek, blinking up at you through his thick lashes.  Something about the moment is far too intimate–you know you should leave, go back to the party downstairs.  There’s music still playing in the distance, your friends are still dancing, yet you’re here, alone with Ominis in his room.

“Can I ask you a question?” Ominis asks.

“Ask away,” you whisper.

You can see the way he moves his hand, dropping his wand onto the nightstand next to his bed.  His right hand is still on top of yours, keeping it glued to his warm cheek.  The other hand hooks behind your knee, fingers dancing over the soft skin.  He’s taller than you, and his knees slot between yours, legs knocking into each other.

“Have you ever–” he clears his throat, eyes fluttering as he tries to verbalize his thoughts. “Have you ever thought about us?”

“What about us?” You ask dumbly. 

To your despair, Ominis pulls away. He hastily tugs his hands from your body, pushing the desk chair to put distance between the two of you.  It’s faster than you could’ve imagined; your brain is still processing his question while he’s already got his wand in hand, hastily making a way towards the door.

“Ominis, stop!” You demand.

“It’s dumb,” He ignores your words, wand lit red as he stomps across the room. “It was just a thought–”

“Ominis,” you repeat, standing up.  

“We should go back out to the party–”

“I have,” you choke out.  “I have thought about us.”

Ominis has his head pressed against the cheap pine door.  One hand is on the door knob, the other fondling his wand.  You can sense his trepidation as he slowly stows his wand in his back pocket, turning to face you once more.

“You have?” he croaks.

“I have,” you parrot back the words to him. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Ominis demands. 

“Because,” you’re shaking now. “Because if I told you, you wouldn’t have applied.  And we’re best friends, Ominis, who knows what we’d be getting ourselves into.” the words tumble out of your mouth. 

The idea of life with Ominis had never crossed your mind–not until Poppy had proposed it earlier in the school year, pointing out how he doted on you.  The first to offer you a drink, always free to walk you home at the end of the night.  If you were going through a breakup, Ominis would drop everything to be at your doorstep, a bottle of wine and takeaway in hand.  He’s sat on your couch listening you rant about horrible dates at least a hundred times now.

He’s perfect for you, Poppy had said.

But he’s my best friend, you’d argued back.  

It was only after that conversation that you’d began to see Ominis differently.  The way his eyelashes fluttered when you brushed hair out of his face, or the way a warm blush would creep on his cheeks whenever your skin touched his.  On more than one occasion you found yourself biting the inside of your cheek whenever his shirt roved above his waist. Worst of all, you couldn’t help the bile that would rise in your throat whenever you saw him chatting with another girl, the acrid taste coating your tongue.

Ominis is perfect, every inch of him being boyfriend material. There’s no mistaking that. Your fear lies in the fact that Ominis is your closest confidant, one of your best friends.  While painful, it almost seems easier to hang in the balance of not getting to love him rather than losing him.

“What would we do if we realized we were no good for each other?” you blurt. “You’re my best friend, Om.  I wouldn’t be able to bear it.”

“Bear what?” Ominis muses.

Oh, it’s cruel the way he looks so handsome.  His lips are curved in somehow both a smile and a grimace, dancing around the inevitable question.  

“Don’t make me say it,” you feel weak already. 

“Please,” Ominis asks, voice teetering on the edge of politeness and desire. “Say it, please.”

“I wouldn’t be able to bear it if we didn’t work out,” you confess. “Because it’s you, Ominis.  I love you.”

You’ve told each other you love one another plenty.  The first was at the end of fifth year, when the three of you were departing for separate summer holidays.  Again, when you graduated and you cried about how much you were going to miss Hogwarts.  Both of you with Sebastian, at Anne’s funeral the summer after freshman year.  Throughout all of university, through texts, phone calls, kisses on the cheek before you leave the bar at the end of the night.  

Hiya, love you.  Love you, get home safe.  You’re annoying, but love you.

This time, it’s different.  It’s no longer a statement, it’s a confession.

“You love me.” Ominis says slowly.

“Ah, fuck.” you swear, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “This is so not how I thought tonight would go.”

“If you love me,” Ominis asks, voice shaky. “Why did you tell me to apply for the MACUSA job?”

“Because it’s what you want,” you whisper. “And you’re going to be so, so good at it, Ominis. It’s a fresh start where no one will care who your family is, and that’s what you need.”

“Even if it means I’m going to live far away?” he asks, cheeks reddening. 

Your fingers curl into your palms, nails pricking skin. “You always talked about getting away from your family.  It sounded like the best option for you–you’d get to do something you truly love, something you’re good at.  You’re going to help people, and you’re going to be more than a Gaunt.  It’s the best thing for you, Ominis.”

“But what if I wanted you?” Ominis asks, voice strained. “What if I wanted to stay?”

“I wouldn’t want that.” You admit. “If you’re going to stay, it has to be for more than me. Not that I think you’d stay for me, specifically–I mean, I’m sure Sebastian would love for you to stay home too, and Garreth would miss you–”

Ominis pauses for a moment, his mouth opening and snapping shut as he thinks.  Part of you is curious at what he might say, the other is so embarrassed you’re ready to chuck yourself out the window of his third floor bedroom.  You might land in the rose bushes, which will undoubtedly hurt, but a broken bone will hurt certainly less than rejection from your best friend.

“Say something, for the love of Merlin–”

He doesn’t.

Instead, Ominis launches himself off the door, closing the distance between you in four quick strides.  The desk chair is practically thrown out of the way, tipping onto its side as Ominis slinks a hand around your waist.  You can feel his breath on your cheek, head tipped against yours as he presses your back against his misshapen desk.

“Ominis!” you shriek, watching him swipe everything off his desk and onto the floor.  His heavy books clatter against the hardwood floor, landing with a loud thud.  He wastes no time lifting you onto his desk, tugging your legs closer to the edge as he slots himself between them.

“Tell me,” Ominis pants, his forehead pressed against yours. “Tell me you’ve thought about this before.”

You groan as his mouth descends upon yours. Your hands are tangled in his thick hair, his fingertips pressing into your waist as he kisses you with a bruising force. 

“I have,” you moan into his mouth. 

Ominis moans in return; it’s a sound you’ve been trying to imagine for the last six months, and it sounds so much better in real life.  Your hands slip under the edge of his well worn t-shirt, feeling the warm skin underneath. Ominis has always been long and lithe, and his toned muscle feels just as good as you’ve thought it would. Feeling your nails scratching his skin, Ominis pulls away to mark kisses up and down your throat.

You surge forward, hips trying to close the little distance between your center and Ominis’s body. You can feel his clothed erection throbbing against your thigh, his head tilted back up to kiss your lips. A large palm settles on your breast, tentatively swiping over a clothed nipple.  At your gasp, Ominis pauses; he leans his forehead against yours, breathing heavily as you both register the current state of events.

“That was our first kiss,” Ominis groans. “And I acted like a complete boor.”

You snort. “Took you about two minutes before you had your tongue in my mouth and a hand on my chest.  Not one for subtlety, are you?”

Ominis snorts too, leaning his forehead against your shoulder as he rests his hands on the desk behind you. “To be fair, I’ve been thinking about your breasts for the last six years.  Didn’t want to waste any precious time I have left with them.”

It’s funny and romantic, and also heartbreaking.  If you think about Ominis leaving, you may burst into tears.

“Hey,” Ominis whispers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kill the mood–”

You press your mouth against his; he’s unprepared, so your teeth gnash together.  Ominis quickly adjusts, letting you dominate the kiss.

“Let’s just focus on right now,” you plead. “We can talk about New York after—but not now.”

Ominis pulls away slightly, a small smile growing on his lips.  He’s blinking rapidly, a blush spreading across his cheeks.

“What?” you demand, running a hand through your hair.

“Just happy that it’s us, finally.” Ominis admits. “You and me.”

His little smile is everything, you think.  And while you love the sweet expression, you want to see the faces Ominis makes under more amorous circumstances.

“Ominis,” you coo gently, taking his hand and placing it on your chest. He’s fully red in the face, mouth agape as you guide him at palming your breast. He gets the message, taking control as your hands rest on his shoulders.

“I’ve never told you, but I love it when you wear these dresses,” Ominis muses, his free hand trailing up your thigh. “They’re soft, just like you.”

Your breath catches as his hand snakes upwards, squeezing your bottom. The edge of your short dress is rucked up to your waist as Ominis feels the lace, hovering dangerously close to your center. It’s so intimate, a lengthy departure from your normally buttoned up, proper friend who hates kisses on the cheek. Your head tilts back, a moan on the tip of your tongue as the hand once squeezing your behind starts tracing the edge of your thong.

“No fair,” you wheeze, tugging on his shirtsleeves. “If I’m arse out, you’ve got to take some clothes off too.”

Ominis lets out a loud laugh as he removes his hands from you, letting the button down fall to the floor.  Your hands pull at his t-shirt, helping him take it off.  The second the letters fall on the floor, your hands fly up to his chest, roving over the pale planes.  

“You’re vulgar, too.” Ominis chuckles. “One of the many things I admire about you.”

“Oh yeah?” You ask, lacing your fingers with his.  Your nose bumps into his chin, helping him make sense of your position.  He tilts his face down, hot breath fanning your cheeks. “Soft and vulgar, two very different words you’re using to describe me.”

“At first it irked me,” Ominis confesses. “When we first met.  But after I got to know you, I realized you’re just loud because you’re having fun. And life didn’t need to be so stuffy.”

“That’s sweet,” you admit. 

“You make everything better,” Ominis says, lips hovering closer towards yours again.  “You always have.”

“I’d say the same about you.” you whisper, lips brushing against his in a chaste kiss. 

Ominis has no more restraint left in him.  He surges forward, hands cradling your cheeks as he kisses you.  You’ve never seen him kiss anyone like this before–Ominis is always polite and tender with his conquests.  This Ominis is pure hunger, making up for lost time. 

You drag your nails up and down his back as he kisses you breathless, only stopping when he pulls away.

“Are you okay with this?” He asks, voice tinged with desperation. “Because there’s no going back.”

There’s no mistaking what this is–you’re crossing the boundary with your best friend, making love while you still have time to do so. If it were any other occasion, you might blame the alcohol going to your head, but no decision has ever felt more sane.

It’s Ominis.

“Yes. I want this,” you utter, and that’s that.

Ominis tugs you away from the desk, fingers slipping under the thin straps of your dress to pull it down.  The slinky fabric pools at your ankles while his hands rove over your body. His fingertips dragging over every curve, while you work the buttons of his pants.  He spins you quickly, pushing you onto his rickety bed as he steps out of his pants.

“I hate your bed,” you groan, bouncing on the springy mattress. “You should’ve let me help you with the spells.”

Ominis lets out a breathy laugh as he hops towards you, kicking away a pant leg. “It’s fine .  I don’t understand why you’re complaining, it’s a bed.”

It’s your turn to snort, chuckling as Ominis feels around the bedspread for you. You tuck your knees up to your chin, darting away from his touch.  You can tell just how frustrated he is, blonde hair falling in his eyes, patting around the bed.

“I want to feel you,” he complains, sinking into the mattress across from you. “I want to take my time with you tonight.”

“Then feel away,” you breathe, letting him catch hold of your ankle. 

Ominis licks his lips, eyes fluttering as he presses a searing hot kiss to your ankle.  The kisses start trailing up your leg, stopping intentionally every few seconds.  His teeth graze the inside of your knee, and the whimper that comes out of your mouth is downright embarrassing.

“Now I want to taste you,” Ominis murmurs, hooking your legs over his shoulder. Before you can respond, his teeth are dragging against the flimsy fabric of your thong. One hand pulls it aside, the other bracing your hip. Without warning, the blond takes a long, deliberate lick. With your taste on his tongue, Ominis loses his self control and tears away the scrap of fabric, tugging it off your body and tossing it.

“Ominis!” You shriek, head tilting back to his pillows.

You can tell he’s smiling from the way his cheeks lift, eyes squeezing shut as he presses a kiss to your clit.  His pace is maddening, lazily lapping as he pins your hips down.  Ominis shakes his head, his tongue finally circling against your clit again once you’ve whined enough.

“You taste so good,” he groans. 

“Just like you’ve imagined?” You utter between the sharp gasps he’s eliciting from you.

Ominis doesn’t respond, instead sucking hard on your clit to express his answer.  He’s clearly turned on by your gasps and the sound of your wet cunt, the auditory stimulation driving him to grind his hips against the squeaking mattress.  At this rate, his fingertips may leave bruises in the crease of your thighs. Never did you ever imagine Ominis Gaunt’s head between your legs, but now you really can’t imagine going the rest of your life without his mouth on you.

“Ominis, please,” you strain, reaching out to grasp his hair.  The sharp tug has him growling against your skin, still relentless in his slow, thoughtful method. His tongue darts into your cunt at an excruciating tempo.

“I told you,” he hums, sinking teeth in your thigh as he gives you a momentary reprieve. “I’m going to take my time with you. And if that means I’m here, all night–then so be it.”

In your daze, you hardly notice the fact that he’s now slipped his fingers inside of you, slowly pumping them as he kisses your clit again. With every stroke you feel the band tightening in your stomach, the overwhelming urge to snap coming any moment.  You paw at his head, anything to express how close you are, but he relents with his pace. When his fingers curl inside of you, you slam your head back against the pillows again, a ragged cry tumbling off your lips as you come.

Ominis pulls away, your slick glistening his chin as he gives you a smug smile.  Your heart is hammering in your chest at the sight of him, cheeks red and panting from giving you the most glorious head you’ve ever received to date.

“Did I do well?” He asks, almost a bit shy.

You try to get up, but your quivering legs fail you. “You’ve rendered me boneless,” you laugh, pressing a hand against your chest.

Ominis pulls himself up over you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You can still taste yourself on his mouth, flooding your head with filthy ideas. 

“Your turn,” You murmur, mustering the strength to pull yourself up. You push Ominis over, and he falls against the bed.  Somehow, your bodies know just how to move around each other–there is no awkward fumbling.  When you’ve known someone for years, spent half your school years cuddled up together in naps, you just know how to maneuver around one another. 

Ominis sits against the headboard, the pillows propped behind his back.  When he feels your hands touch the waistband of his boxers, he instinctively lifts his hips, letting you drag them down his legs.  His aching length springs free, slapping against his stomach as you crawl towards his lap.

“How does this feel?” You ask, adjusting your legs to straddle him.  You know he can feel how wet you are, dripping against his cock.  While your hands rest against his shoulders, Ominis’s arms wrap against your waist, all but pulling you down to grind against him. Waiting for his answer, your eyes scan every inch of his face to commit each beauty mark to memory.

Ominis presses a quick kiss to your nose, eyelashes fluttering in the way you love. “You feel so warm.” He groans, his cock twitching against you. The feeling of him against you sparks a familiar ache between your legs.  His jaw hardens when you slip your hand between your bodies, gripping him to guide his blunt head to your center.

“I love you,” Ominis chokes out as you sink onto his length.  His hands fly from your waist, now roving all over your body.  He’s consuming you, touching every single surface he can manage.  You both gasp as you bottom out, his head tipping back against the headboard with a thud.

“So good for me,” Ominis garbles out in broken syllables. “You’re...you feel so...”

You surge forward, lips pressed against his.  His kisses melt against your mouth as he tries to rock upwards into you. 

“We could’ve been doing this for ages,” Ominis complains, his nimble fingers tangling in your hair.

“Instead we’ve been just friends,” you chuckle, rolling your hips. Your hands are gripping the headboard behind him, forehead pressed against his as you grind against each other. 

“Idiots,” Ominis mutters, catching your lower lip with his teeth. “We’re idiots.”

You shift your feet underneath you, bouncing up and down on his length.  Ominis’s breath hitches against your breasts, his hands shifting down to your waist.  The feeling of his thumbs roving over your hip bones is enough to drive you harder, and you realize he’s admiring every single dimple, every curve.  He could go faster, fuck up into you if he really wanted to, but Ominis stays true to his word.  He’s taking his time to savor you, to commit your body to memory while he has you in his arms.

“Enjoying yourself?” You ask breathlessly, as Ominis’s hand trails up and down your spine for the umpteenth time.

He grins, baring his teeth as he surges forward, pushing you off and onto your back on the bed.  You yelp as he slithers over you, hovering just inches from your face as he presses back into your warmth. 

“Immensely,” Ominis whispers, kissing you as he starts rocking into you.  Without thought, you wrap your legs around his waist, locking him in as tightly as you can. When he pulls away, his forehead resting against yours, you flatten your hands against his cheeks. You fit against each other like puzzle pieces; it’s silly to have been so worried, you realize.  Slotted against each other, chasing one another to your mutual climax, you know only Ominis could’ve ever made sense.

“I love you,” you blurt as Ominis digs his face into your neck.

“I love you too,” Ominis mumbles into your neck. “I think I always have.”

“You have?” You squeak, thoughts punctuated by a moan as he snaps his hips at just the right angle.

“It’s you,” Ominis admits. “Of course I love you. I– oh shit –I’ve always had feelings for you,” he pants. “God, at least since we were sixteen.”

Ominis’s confessions, punctuated by an elusive curse word, melt your heart.  You shift your hips upwards, meeting him with every thrust.  The wet slapping of his skin against yours, the slamming of the headboard, coupled with Ominis’s babbling and your breathy moans echo off the walls. You hadn’t bothered with a silencing spell, not knowing that this is where the night would take you. It’s likely everyone in the house knows what’s going on between the two of you, and that almost turns you on more. After all these years, Ominis is yours, claimed by your loud coupling.

“I’ve dreamt of touching you here for years,” Ominis confesses between open mouth kisses. “Always thinking about how soft you must feel here,” his lips close around your nipple, tongue flicking against the surface.  It draws a shriek out of you, which has him grinning. “Just as I thought.”

Just the confirmation that Ominis has thought about you naked in bed just like you have stokes the fire within you, threatening to burst.  He feels too good inside of you; while you’d take the sweet torture of being edged all night just to keep him close, your body is teetering close to the edge.

“Come for me,” Ominis murmurs in your ear. “I want to feel you come undone.”

“I can’t,” you utter. “I don’t–I don’t want this to be over,” you choke out, clutching his shoulders.

The sex, this night, this season of your life, together.  You’re not quite sure which one your sex addled brain is referring to.

Ominis snakes up a large hand, cradling your cheek with his palm.  His thumb brushes over your swollen lips as little gasps escape your lips.

“We have tonight, all night.” Ominis whispers, each syllable met with a roll of his hips. “You don’t think it’ll be just once, do you?”

“Ominis,” you garble out, his thumb dipping into your warm mouth.  You’re not sure if you’re scolding his vulgar language, or warning him of the impending release.

“Come with me,” Ominis pleads.  

An urge to finish what you’ve started together, or perhaps a plea to join him across the sea.  Either way, the three words have you coming, Ominis choking out a moan as his hips stutter against yours. He shudders as he comes inside of you, not stopping his thrusts until he’s trembling, falling at your side. 

The two of you are silent for what feels like ages, just the ticking of his bedside clock and the soft hum of music from the party downstairs filling the background. As you stare at the ceiling, you feel his warm hand entangling his fingers with yours, and you’re both quiet for another few minutes as you collect your thoughts.

“I meant what I said,” Ominis breaks the silence.

“Which one?” you ask, tilting your head to look at him.  He’s still flat on his back, his free hand resting on his chest as his head tilts towards the sound of your voice.  His gorgeous blue eyes crease at the corners as he smiles.

“All of it,” Ominis muses. “That I love you, that I’ve always loved you.  That I thought you didn’t love me, because you were encouraging me to go, to take the MACUSA job.  But turns out, it’s just because you know me better than anyone. You know what I need to do.”

“I love you too,” you whisper.

Ominis turns to you, his hands tracing up and down your naked torso. “I never thought we’d get to do this,” he confesses. “And even if it took us until the last night of school, I’m glad we did.”

You press a fervent kiss to his lips, melting against him.  You only pull away when he laughs, blond hair shaking as he falls back against the bed.

“We are actual idiots,” Ominis says sheepishly. “Our very first time should’ve been more romantic.”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “There’s something incredibly romantic about a last chance confession.”

“I wish I’d told you sooner,” Ominis says, a pained expression painted on his face. “We could’ve had so much more time–”

You press a finger to his lips, silencing him.  He quirks his brow, questioning your actions.

“We have the rest of tonight,” you remind him, rolling onto your stomach.  You trace your hand against his cheek, your fingers dancing against his lips. He opens his mouth, indulgently sucking on your fingers as they dip inside. “Besides, I think I have to reciprocate the mind blowing head.” you joke, your now wet hand trailing back down to his length.

Ominis is hard again in seconds.

The music ended hours ago, and the house is calm. You wouldn’t know if anything was going on outside of Ominis’s door anyways; after your second round, Ominis had the good sense to cast a silencing charm on the room. 

Ominis slips out of you after fucking you on your side, his slow thrusts driving you to the brink of insanity.  Both of you are thoroughly spent; he knows that, reaching for his wand to summon a cloth.  He's attentive and gentle as he cleans you, murmuring praise of how well you've taken him and how incredible you feel. Once the two of you are semi-decent, he gathers a fresh tee shirt for you to slip over your head.  It’s well worn, letters stitched into the chest, and it smells like his cologne. You hold the collar to your nose; it’s very likely this shirt will be coming home with you.

Ominis tucks you into his arms as he pulls the duvet over your bodies, his warm breath tickling your ears as his breathing slows.

“I’m not sure how you’re going to walk across the graduation stage,” you joke, stifling a yawn.

“Will probably need Andrew to throw me across the stage at this point,” Ominis says.  His voice sounds thick with sleep, and you know he yearns to shut his eyes.  You’ve known him for so long, watched him nap in the hallways enough to recognize the tell-tale signs of Ominis Gaunt’s sleeping habits.

“I’m proud of you, you know that?” You whisper, hoping to catch him while he’s still awake. “You’re gonna go far, do amazing things. I’m so proud of you, and I love you.”

“I know,” Ominis lets out a sleepy sigh, heavy eyelids drooping.  “I love you too.”

Before long, Ominis is softly snoring in your ear.  Blinking your bleary eyes, you can see the dark sky turning lighter and lighter through the curtains.  It’s graduation day; in a few hours, Ominis will walk across the stage and move on to the next phase of his life.

Merlin, you hope to be part of the next chapter.

You jolt awake when you hear the door knob to Ominis’s room jiggling. The blond is still fast asleep, a smile on his face as he dreams.

“Ominis, wake up,” you groan. “It’s morning.”

“It was morning when we fell asleep,” he swats away at you, digging his face into the pillows.

“Well, it’s graduation morning.” You warn him. “We have to get ready–I have to go home, I have to change and shower.  You have to shower.”

“Shower here,” Ominis complains, tugging you back against his warm chest. “And you can shower with me.”

“I can’t go to your graduation wearing a bloody mini dress,” you scold him, rolling out of bed.  You tug open his dresser, pulling out a well worn sweater and some sweatpants. “There’s someone at the door too.”

“It’s me,” a muffled voice yells. “Wakey wakey, lovebirds!” 

Ominis flips back over in bed as you tug the sweater over your head, swinging the door open.  You’d recognize the Scottish lilt anywhere–it’s Sebastian, grinning broadly with a garment bag in hand.

“What is that?” You gape.

Sebastian pushes his way into the room, hanging the black bag between Ominis’s graduation robes. “Had a feeling you wouldn’t be going home last night,” he winks, unzipping the bag. “So I asked Imelda to pull together some options for you.  Picked them up this morning; there’s some bagels and coffee downstairs too.”

You’re embarrassed but thankful for your friends–Imelda has packed some tasteful day dresses, all appropriate for the event in mind.

Sebastian drops another bag onto the ground, sinking into the now up-right office chair. “She packed more appropriate heels.  Oh, and a bra and underwear. Thought you might’ve lost yours.”

“Get out,” Ominis groans, tossing a pillow at Sebastian.

The freckled bastard lets out a laugh, his whole body shaking as he dodges Ominis’s throw. “Best get in the shower, Mr. President.  Can’t have you walking across the stage to get your diploma with sex hair.” Sebastian waggles his eyebrows, and even though Ominis can’t see, he knows the expression on Sebastian’s face.

You hear your name from the doorframe, and both you and Sebastian turn to see who it is.  Lucan and Garreth are standing with bagels, idly observing the scene before them.

“Amit owes me ten galleons,” Garreth says, his mouth still full of his poppy seed bagel. “He said you’d never admit how you feel to Ominis–”

“That’s not what I said!” You hear Amit’s voice from down the hallway. “Garreth, don’t twist my words.”

Lucan pushes his way into the room, holding his bagel between his teeth. “Can I get in to measure now?” he asks, pulling his wand from his pocket. “I do think I could fit a nice little bar in the corner here–”

“Everyone out!” Ominis roars, standing up in just his boxer shorts. “Everyone who isn’t my girlfriend can fuck off.”

Instead of scattering, everyone freezes in place. 

“Girlfriend?” You squeak out.

Ominis’s furrowed brow softens, his cheeks heating up as he scratches the back of his neck.

“I assumed,” he said sheepishly. “When we said we loved each other.”

“Alright, nothing to see here folks.  Everyone go back to your knitting.” Sebastian says hastily, pulling Lucan into a headlock to drag him out of the room.  He pushes Garreth in the chest, and you hear several pairs of feet scrambling in the hallway–no doubt Amit, Andrew, and the others have congregated outside of Ominis’s door to eavesdrop.

Sebastian shoots you both a knowing look as he shuts the door behind him, leaving you alone with Ominis once more.

“If you don’t want to, that’s okay.” Ominis croaks.  “I understand.  I’m leaving in a few days, it makes sense.”

You tiptoe over to him, placing a hand on his chest.  You can feel his heart hammering beneath you, one of his hands resting atop yours to keep it in place.

“What would being your girlfriend entail?” You ask slowly, nails dragging across his skin.

Ominis offers you a small smile. “Nothing has to change, not really.  Just that I get to tell you that I love you out loud.”

“And perhaps there will be space for me in New York.” You say slowly, chewing on your lower lip.

Ominis’s face lights up, tugging you in with a firm arm around your waist. “There will most definitely be space for you in New York,” he announces. “It’s only fitting that I make room for you, considering you’re the person who convinced me to go.”

“Your girlfriend,” you enunciate. 

“My girlfriend,” Ominis repeats back to you. It isn’t long before he’s kissing you, his tongue snaking its way into your mouth. You have to pull yourself back, eyeing the clock on Ominis’s desk.

“We have to shower,” you remind him, hands pressed against his chest. “Otherwise, I’ll be late to my boyfriend’s graduation ceremony.”

Ominis grins, pressing a quick kiss against your cheek.  He maneuvers over to his dresser, pulling out two clean towels.  Wand in hand, he slings the towels over his shoulder, his other hand outstretched to grab yours.

You fold your palm into his, following him out the door without a word.

The last week almost seems like a blur to you.  

That Sunday, you watched Ominis graduate university with honors, several stoles draped across his shoulders.  One from the honors college, another for his outstanding leadership.  The third looks a bit hodge-podge, but it’s the most important to him–a stole crafted by Sebastian and the others, crudely decorated in a way only twenty-something boys would do.  

The satin stole with the Gaunt family motto is promptly burned in the celebratory bonfire Lucan sets that night, all of you sitting around the fire pit with beers in hand.

Every day since then has been bliss.  You’ve only gone home once, packing a bag with a week’s worth of clothes while Imelda gives you smug looks. You’ve effectively moved into Ominis’s bedroom for one last week together.  It’s for practical reasons, you tell the others.  By day, you’re helping Ominis pack his belongings and bring whatever items he needs to donate to the university charity shop.  You even help him pack a cardboard box with any Gaunt family memorabilia, slapping a label to ship the useless trinkets back to Marvolo.  Ominis doesn’t need to rely on his family name anymore, at least not where he’s going.

The others come and go, but soon the new graduates start to move.  Amit and Andrew are the first to leave, off to start their ministry jobs.  Garreth follows shortly after, moving to a cottage in Cornwall to start his bulk potions business.  Come Friday, it’s just you, Ominis, and Sebastian left as the rest of the underclassmen have left for their summer holidays.

You enjoy one last night cooking dinner with your two best boys, tears pricking the corners of your eyes if you think too hard about how this might be the last time the three of you are in a room together for a while.  After dessert, Sebastian leaves the house to visit friends; more likely, he’s giving the two of you the house alone for your final night together.

You’d expect last night together to be frenetic, but Ominis’s love making remains slow and deliberate.  Ominis meant it when he said he wanted to remember every bit of you, his hands exploring your body as he makes you come several times in the night. You cry out the last time, exhausted but pawing at him for more.  

More, more, more. More time, most of all. 

Both of you cry a little, murmuring promises to each other before falling asleep.

When you wake, the air is melancholy.  The two of you move in silence, Ominis showering and packing the remnants of his suitcase. You put your dirty clothes from the week in your bag as well, and the two of you say goodbye to his little bedroom for the last time.  Ominis swallows thickly as you both get into the car, Sebastian choosing the passenger seat so the two of you can sit together in the back.

The airport isn’t too busy, which affords you time for a long farewell.  Ominis’s wand is safely concealed in a cane, and Sebastian slips a pair of sunglasses over his eyes so he fits in better with the muggles.  

“You have a new phone now,” Sebastian reminds him. “So don’t give me any excuses for not calling or texting.”

“I will,” Ominis promises. “Thank you, Sebastian.  I–” his voice cracks, and his eyes flutter as he swallows. “I’m glad I met you when I was eleven.” It's a simple sentence, but the words impart just how much Ominis loves Sebastian.

Sebastian whimpers, pulling his best friend, his brother into a hug.  You have to turn away, dabbing at your eyes as the two men say farewell after living together for over a decade.

“Alright, sod off,” Sebastian blurts, wiping at his nose. “Your turn to say goodbye, I can’t do this anymore.”

Ominis lets out a watery laugh as Sebastian meanders away, giving the two of you some time alone.  You don’t want to waste any of the precious seconds you have left with Ominis waffling, so you tug him into a tight embrace, your arms locking around his neck.

“I love you,” Ominis says against your hair. “I love you.”

 You’re kissing him all over his face, leaving tears in your wake. “I love you too,” you murmur. “Remember what I told you.”

“If you want to go far, you’ve got to go far.” Ominis mutters. “I’m doing this for me–for us.”

“Better save a drawer for me,” you whisper. 

“The very best one,” Ominis whispers back. “It’ll be there for you, next year.”

Sebastian nearly has to pry the two of you apart, reminding Ominis that his plane leaves within the hour and he still needs to get through security.  The steps the blond takes towards the line are rigid, his subconscious fighting the physical act of leaving.  But deep down, all of you know it–Ominis is going to do great things, and he’s going to do it without his family breathing down his neck, trying to force him to conform to their ways.

You feel a hand grabbing yours; it’s Sebastian, squeezing you tight as you both watch Ominis move through the line.  Minutes later, he’s waving goodbye, disappearing into the departures terminal.

You and Sebastian stay until Ominis’s blond head is no longer visible over the crowd.  

Finishing your dissertation is eating up all your free time, but you reserve an hour at the end of the day to talk to Ominis over his brand new phone.  The time difference is a bit jarring; sometimes you find yourself staying up well into the twilight hours to listen to Ominis ramble on about his job and the work they’ve done to protect international magical affairs.  He asks you how his brothers are doing, if Lucan has stirred any trouble yet.  You tell him all about how they still invite you to parties every weekend, and Lucan decided against building the wet bar in his room.  You talk about Sebastian’s rotations at St. Mungo’s and how the two of you still try to have dinner at least once a week despite your busy schedules. 

You tell him to save his money, but Ominis isn’t one to skimp out on gifts. He still sends owl post, care packages from his tiny apartment in New York.  After you tell him his fraternity letters are starting to wear thin, he sends you a New York t-shirt that smells like cool musk.  You start wearing it to bed every night; once the smell wears off, Ominis sends a bottle of his cologne as well.

Phone sex isn’t half bad either, you decide.  You come every time Ominis tells you to, gasping when you hear him touch himself on the other end of the line.

One day, Ominis sends you an e-mail about job requisitions at the MACUSA headquarters.  They have their own department of mysteries, Ominis explains. If you’re interested at all.

You apply and wait to hear back. I hope it’s not a conflict of interest that my boyfriend is the newest hot shot solicitor in the office of international affairs.

It isn’t, it turns out.  You’re offered a job interview over the winter holidays if you can make it to New York City in time.  Ominis sends you the ticket in your email, assuring you that he’ll pick you up from the airport.  He does exactly as he’s promised, and you laugh at how much he’s bundled himself up against the New York City snow.  When you leave the airport you laugh a little less, snow already getting into your shoes.  Ominis is a gentleman through and through, and carries you from the car up the stairs to his apartment lobby.

You think your interview at MACUSA has gone well, and you start enjoying all the walking you have to do to get around the city.  Ominis takes you to all his favorite restaurants, and he shows you the drawer he’s been saving for you.  His apartment feels like home, even if you have to squeeze past the dining table to get to the bed.  The two of you Facetime Sebastian from bed, the brunette recounting his shifts at St. Mungo’s in great detail.

“Say, do you have a hospital in the city?” Sebastian asks. “If she’s going, I want to come too.  We’re a package deal.”

Ominis rolls his eyes. “Of course there’s a hospital here, Sebastian. It’s not a primitive land. It’s New York, for Merlin's sake.”

You laugh, trying not to shake the phone as you try to keep Ominis in frame.

The week passes by too fast. Ominis brings you back to the airport, and this goodbye is even harder than the one after graduation. You find it nearly impossible to take your hands off him, his lips pressing kisses to your face.  

“It’s just a little while longer,” Ominis reminds you.

“We don’t even know if I’ll get it,” you shrug.

“You’re going to get it,” Ominis assures you. It feels like deja vu, as if you’ve had this conversation before.

About a week into the second term, you receive your job offer from MACUSA.

May arrives quicker than you thought it would.  You get a few less calls with Ominis during your finals week, and he promises to make it up to you somehow.  Even though you have a job offer, it’s contingent on you passing your final exams.  Ominis quizzes you through the phone while Sebastian brings you dinner between his shifts. It’s a group effort to get you across the finish line.

You pass, and you finally get to breathe a sigh of relief. The week of your graduation is filled with parties and celebrations, Lucan inviting you to come back to the house. It doesn’t feel as right without Sebastian or Ominis inside, so you don’t stay long.  Sebastian promises he'll try to be at your graduation, trading shifts with other healers.  On the other hand, Ominis is stuck in the middle of an important case.  You tell him not to worry, and that you'll see him in a week when you move.

Come graduation day, you’re standing in front of the theater, your diploma in hand. You feel your phone buzz in your pocket, and you pull it out to read your texts. You have one missed message from Sebastian.

Sorry I missed your ceremony.  Got called in to cover someone’s shift this morning.  I promise I’ll be at your dinner later tonight.  Oh, and I hope you enjoy your grad present xx

You furrow your brow, typing back a response.  You don’t remember anything about a present–

“Congratulations, darling.”

You look up, nearly dropping your phone in the process. A tall lithe blond clad in a three piece suit, a MACUSA pin on the lapel.  

Ominis smiles at you, a bouquet of sunflowers in hand.

[am-i-interrupting]

Velvet— One Author; Two Show Hosts Headcanons

One Author; Two Show Hosts is a Vox x Alastor’s Child Reader series. Essential knowledge: you and Vox are married by the point Velvette comes to Hell. Reader is a POC with curly hair.

Bonus: Playlist

Velvette started off her time in hell working as a costume designer. She starts off with a small business and a couple of workers, mostly overworking herself to stay on schedule.

You figure out about her while looking for a new designer for your theater.

For several months, you’re Velvette’s highest paying client.

Over time she realizes that you’re actually a fun person to bitch and gossip with. When she lets something slip about Hell being behind on technological advances, you introduce her to Vox.

This leads to Vox trying to contract her but she wises one up on him and suggests they be business partners instead.

She doesn’t do much with the technology programming and whatnot but she does have at least a general idea on how things worked and gives that information to Vox.

Soon she goes from a small business to having her own distinguishable fashion brand.

You’re still her favorite costumer though.

She makes all the costumes for your shows herself and makes sure everyone knows it.

It doesn’t take long for her to move into your and Vox’s tower.

She has a love hate relationship with Vark.

Sometimes they get along swell and are cuddled up on the couch together. Other times he’s drooling on her clothes or chewing on them and she does not respond well.

Speaking of clothes say goodbye to your wardrobe freedom. She is going through it and everything she hates in a kindle.

She will not get rid of your true vintage unless it’s absolutely atrocious. She’s a fashion girlie. She knows everything comes back in fashion eventually and with the rise of social media, that time comes around quickly.

She will collab with you in order to make you fashionable but you clothing.

Beauty is pain but she doesn’t want you to hate what you wear. You only look like a bad bitch if you feel like it.

Better practice your runway walk because you will be modeling your exclusive line.

If she catches you wearing clothes someone else made (with perhaps an exception if it’s vintage or made by Rosie because she, unfortunately, has to accept that you’re friends with Rosie) prepare for an Edna Mode type blow up over it.

Also, your privacy? Yeah, that’s a bit gone too.

She’s not outright mean but she is willing to playfully embarrass you on social media.

You know that “Hey, wake up, sleepy head!” vine? She’s done that to you and Vox.

She will throw shit at you and Vox if you’re being too lovey dovey.

Makes constant old people/old married couple jokes about you and Vox.

Vox makes short people jokes in retaliation. Then gets something thrown at his head from behind. Looks back, remembers you and Velvette are close in height. Shuts up real fast.

Velvette is absolutely soul crushed the first time she sees you have curly hair because. . . What the fuck? It’s so pretty! How dare you!

She vlogs your entire curly hair journey, undoing years of damage.

Vox just lets you do your thing on hair wash/styling days. Does not get involved because you both become so focused he’s kind of scared what will happen if he breaks it.

Doing each others hair while watching shitty Hell-a-Novelas.

Yelling at the TV when people do something stupid.

Absolutely gossiping and shit talking people all day. Like no one else’s business.

Velvette taking so many pictures to post when you’re done.

Overall, Vox gets a new business partner, you get a new bitching partner. Win win, right?

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@jegulus-microfic 21, 23, 24 feb - attack, alley, hungry - 1786 words - cw: blood (nothing violent though)

1920s New Orleans vampires <3 [part 1 vampire microfic, happens after this in the timeline though]

James flashes a blinding grin at the giggling young women he lets out the door before he ducks in after they’re gone. He nudges his glasses up his nose and straightens his fitted waist coat for the Christ knows how many-th time, sucking in a steadying breath as he lets his eyes sweep over the inside of the bar room.

He can do this.

He can hunt, it’s in his nature now—Barty had said so. Besides, James has always prided himself with his chivalry and charm, and now that it’s only amplified he should have no issues chatting an unsuspecting, innocent person up and taking them somewhere more private for James to be able to feed without getting caught.

The thought alone makes his teeth itch horribly and James slides his tongue along his fangs behind his lips before he makes his way farther inside.

James stops for a drink at the bar and then settles in one of the corners, slowly nursing his glass of whiskey as he browses the crowd for possible prey.

The dark-skinned woman under the spotlight is gorgeous as she sings into the microphone, golden band with white and emerald feather adorning her curly haired head.

None of the people enjoying the show spring into James’ eye, not one poor soul piquing his interest.

That is until James’ eyes settle against the other side of the room where a young man is propped against the railing of the elevated patio section of the establishment, not even pretending to watch the singer as he lazily swirls the dark liquid in his tumbler with slow circles of his wrist.

His suit is sleek and expensive looking, snug against his lean body. The pants fitted and hinting with stripes, and a plain, black fly sitting impeccably against the collar of his throat. The waistcoat seems to be velvet and there’s a silver chain disappearing into one of the pockets, evidence of what is most likely a pocket watch in the value of James’ monthly rent. 

What makes James’ breath catch though is the inherent beauty of the man. Porcelain skin, perfectly rosy lips, a jawline that could cut glass and the lightest eyes James has ever seen. Unlike most men, he didn’t slick his hair back, instead choosing to wear his natural curls though they look artfully perfect like he spent hours in front of the mirror tugging each and every one neatly into place, even the one falling into his forehead, right over dark brows. Especially that one.

Before James realizes the man moves to straighten up, gaze drifting farther back into the room and snagging suddenly when he catches James already looking his way. 

He keeps the eye contact up challengingly for a dragging moment and James slips into a grin, letting his head loll back and to the side against the wall. James watches the stranger’s gaze wander lower shamelessly, making his upper lip twitch with the desire to sink his teeth through pale skin and muscle.

The other man seems to be making a tch sound before turning and sauntering away but not without throwing another glance at James over his shoulder.

Oh, and how James likes them feisty. Always has.

He pushes off the wall in an instant and follows the dark head of curls through a curtain of beads leading into a random, dimly lit hallway. When James steps into it, it’s empty, obviously leading towards another room, door is open and letting James glimpse several pool and poker tables.

His teeth throb with the promise of being able to feed again as he steers for the room, though James draws up short at an alcove right next to the threshold where the man now leans.

“Looking for something?” he drawls, a strange expression on his face and James momentarily wonders if the veins around his eyes are showing without him realizing. He’s seen them pop out occasionally in the mirror when he’s particularly hungry.

Still, his mouth tugs into an easy grin as he steps closer, “Think I just found it.”

One eyebrow arches, “Did you now?”

“Mhm.”

“And what would that be?” he tips his chin up with arrogance. James wants to devour him.

But first, manners, ”Your name.”

“Regulus,” the beautiful stranger answers and James feels spit pooling under his tongue with the urge to taste him. Regulus links his hands behind his back, neck tilting to the side when James doesn’t continue, “Just that?”

Now James definitely can feel his eyes morphing. “And a little donation,” he replies, voice rough, then more darkly, “Don’t scream, don’t be scared. Everything is alright.”

“It is,” the other replies and James’ mouth tugs harder at the corners, mouth opening.

An excited chuckle punches out of him as he closes the distance, cradling the man’s jaw gently and exposing his fangs to the humid air.

It happens quickly after that.

“Fool,” he hears, a hair width before James’ teeth would have been grazing skin, and then his back is pushed into the unforgiving wall, hard stone cracking under the inhuman force of the shove and James groans. Hisses at the intake when he feels the entire length of his spine give a throb. 

James‘ lurches forward instinctively, a feral snarl ripping from his throat and then he blinks when he stares back into Regulus’ unbearably pretty face marred by the same intense bloodshot eyes and violet pulsing veins. His fangs a pearly white and so long it makes James draw in a shuddering breath.

He feels that by the strong forearm still pressing into his chest and James licks his lips, stunned and breathless, “Oh, hi.”

Something blooms in his chest, unfurling and making him feel even more drawn to the other man, inexplicably reeled in, much more intensely than before. 

Regulus simply rolls his eyes before pressing off him and James already mourns the contact. Craves it. Wants it back desperately, hunger and bloodthirst completely forgotten.

He’s about to open his mouth when the other vampire beats him to it, eyes narrowed calculatingly, “What is your name?”

“James,” he answers eagerly.

Something flits over Regulus’ expression for a fleeting moment and with that he turns on his heel, “Follow me.”

James blinks, shakes his head and quickly catches up to Regulus’ fast strides. His legs are miles long and James can’t quite help himself when his gaze wanders below the hem of his jacket for a few moments.

Regulus takes the few steps to the patio two at a time and James follows dutifully, taking in the lounge with wide eyes. The multiple plush armchairs and loveseats, couples entwined in each other or people talking animatedly, coy grins on their faces.

Regulus comes to a halt near the spot James first found him, a curvy woman in a knee long dress perched on the legs of a man, obscured by the woman’s curls.

“Crouch,” Regulus says pointedly, no nonsense. Right before kicking a man in the shins. 

An annoyed sound, “What?” and then James’ knees nearly buckle when he smells blood.

“That one seem familiar to you?” Regulus bites out, placing a possessive hand on the back of James’ neck. 

James’ mouth drops open around a quiet sound, skin prickling intensely at the contact and sending a strong tremor through his whole body.

The man lifts his face from where he was immersed, head tipping back and suddenly James is face to face with Barty, a trail of blood dripping down his chin again. Just like when he first found him a few weeks ago.

He cocks his head with a chuckle, curiously eyeing the hold the older vampire has on James. He absentmindedly licks a drop of blood from the woman’s neck, and James keens, before Barty gives a feeble shrug, grin unbearable smug. “I might.”

“Oh, you might?” Regulus spits.

James goes a little rigid at his tone, insides fluttering.

He steps forward, tugging James right with, “Barty, why does he smell like mine?”

James’ jaw drops, head whipping around and staring at Regulus’ side profile. A silent moment goes by, neither of them budging and then Barty’s brows knit with suspicion, “Like yours?”

“Yes, like mine, you fucking idiot,” he snarls and James shivers from where the other vampire’s fingers clench. “You sired him!”

Barty levels him with a look, “I sired him…to you?”

“Well, I sure as hell didn’t do it,” Regulus snaps back.

“What’s going on now?” another voice says and James swivels his head to watch a tall blonde man sidling up to them, whiskey in hand and eyeing them all warily.

With a sigh Barty mumbles something to the woman in his lap, wiping messily at the wound on her neck before tugging her scarf back in place and sending her on her way.

“Barty’s gone and sired someone,” Regulus replies and James can’t help but be endeared by the petulant tone and pouty twist of his mouth. He looks so put together and intimidating it’s just sort of…cute like that. Ridiculously cute, really.

“What?” the blonde blurts. His features harden immediately, snapping around at James like he’s going to rip his heart out of his chest right then and there.

In a split second Barty is up and holding him back with a palm against his sternum, “To Regulus, Evan, not to me.”

Evan, apparently, rips his eyes away from James, gaze boring instead into Barty’s face, restlessly searching for something as his chest heaves heavily. 

Barty tugs his lower lip between teeth, taking him in appreciatively, “Pipe down, loverboy.”

The blonde bats Barty’s hand away with a sneer, poising himself before he turns back to Regulus. “How’s that even possible though?”

Regulus shoulders slump with a shrug—James hadn’t even realized how rigid he had gotten. Or when he had stepped in front of him.

Barty throws an arm around Evan’s shoulder lazily, making a dismissive sound, “Dorcas’ll figure it out for us. She always does.”

“I hope you’re right,” Regulus says, turning a glance over his shoulder and James follows it to see the attention directed towards the pretty singer from before.

A touch at his elbow has him turning back though and Regulus is suddenly much closer than before. “In the meantime,” he starts, lips spreading into a predatory smirk that has James suppressing a noise deep in his throat, “I bet you’re hungry, aren’t you?”

He nods stupidly, hands itching to reach out and swaying in again.

Regulus hums appreciatively, hooking a finger into James’ belt loop to tug once, and then promptly swivels, expecting to be followed.

James doesn’t miss the risen eyebrows and surprised expressions on the other two faces as he passes them.

[valyrfia]

Look what comes around goes around because I used to be kinda judgy of other F1 enthusiast lesbians falling for wags because most weren't my type, But now when I tell you I'm completely parasocially in love with Rebecca (Carlos Girlfriend) And I strongly dislike Carlos. Like this just adds to the list of reasons for me to fight him. Like I had to literally unfollow her because she's so beautiful it pains me to live in a world where she's not my girlfriend. Like omg I'm sounding insane and I need to touch grass I know. But god, I need her, like badly, like I can't even

Anon I know you sent this in like more than a week ago and I’ve only just got round to replying to it but I’ve thought about this ask every day for the past week and each time it’s made me giggle out loud.

Also I agree Rebecca could totally get it, and Carlos obviously knows he pulled a baddie, which helps slightly with the whole ‘shit she has a famous and rich boyfriend’ situation but I did have to take several deep breaths and consider that block button after she dropped the double denim fit at the Monte Carlo masters earlier this year. Also she’s Scottish, who could ever resist such a queen.

Also, I’ll add. Obviously a lot of modelling is very male-gazey but Rebecca’s TikToks where she’s just talking about having confidence in her curly hair or showing off a suit jacket…..how were us lesbians ever supposed to resist.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Steve's leg was shaking as the thunder sounded outside. It wasn't the only thing that was making him nervous, though. What were they watching again? He couldn't focus. Nancy was tucked into his side, her head pressed against his chest. He couldn't believe he was getting another chance with her. He didn't want to screw this up, but he also wanted to be honest with her. Suddenly, Nancy's hand was on his shaking leg, squeezing his knee gently.

"Hey, it's okay," Nancy said softly. "I get scared during thunderstorms, too."

"No, it's not that. It's not just that. There's just something about myself that I want to tell you. Or rather, show you. It's just that not everyone is okay with it. My parents certainly aren't, but Robin is more than okay with it. Jesus, her rambling is rubbing off on me," Steve sighed.

"Whatever it is, I'm here," Nancy said softly.

"Okay, well, I need to go upstairs to do it," Steve muttered.

Nancy followed him upstairs and waited patiently outside the door of his bedroom. After several moments, Steve called for her. Nancy went in and found him sitting at his dressing table. Make-up was spread across the table. Steve was wearing a casual, off the shoulder blue dress. He was wearing a long, brown wavy wig. Nancy was caught off guard by how beautiful he looked, and she had a hard time not looking at his red painted lips.

"Steve. . .," Nancy trailed off.

"I know it's probably weird, and I understand if you - ," Steve started to say.

"I think it's great!" Nancy said quickly and took his hands. "Has this always been you?"

"I always felt this way. Sometimes, I feel like a girl, sometimes a man, and sometimes neither," Steve said.

"Do you feel like a woman today?" Nancy asked softly.

"Yeah," she replied.

"Do you have a name, or do you still go by Steve?" Nancy asked.

"I actually do have a name for when I'm a girl, I like going by Stevie and sometimes Eve," she replied. "But Stevie, I really like."

"Stevie," Nancy said and cupped her cheek.

"So, you're really okay with this?" Stevie asked.

"I'm more than okay with this," Nancy said and placed a hand on her chest. "I always thought that this was more important to me than what someone's gender is. I fell in love with your heart, and since this is who you are, I'm going to love that too."

"I love you," Stevie said.

"I love you, too," she said and grinned. "I have the prettiest girlfriend in all of Hawkins."

"You called me your girlfriend," Stevie giggled bashfully.

"You're beautiful, Stevie Harrington," Nancy said.

She stood behind Stevie, looking at her in the mirror. Nancy wrapped her arms around her neck and leaned down to hug her, kissing her cheek.

"Thank you," Stevie said, gazing lovingly at her in the mirror.

"I'm here for you, always," Nancy whispered.

"I want to tell the others. I mean, not the kids yet but our friends," Stevie said.

"I'll support you and be there for you if you want me to," she said and paused. "And if they disrespect you in any way, I'll shoot them."

She turned Stevie's head and kissed her lips. She grinned when she felt Stevie sigh happily.

A few weeks later. . .

"You sure you still want to do this?" Nancy asked.

"Of course," Stevie said. "No doubts."

"You look pretty in yellow," Nancy muttered, her hands on her hips.

Stevie was wearing a pleated yellow medium length skirt, a white button-up blouse, and white ankle boots. She had gone with the long curly brown wig instead of the wavy one. She had half of it pulled back with a hair clip.

"And you look pretty in purple," Stevie said as Nancy wrapped her arms around her from behind.

"Those colors go pretty well together, don't you think?" Nancy asked, and before Stevie could answer, there was a knock on the front door. "I'll get that. You give yourself a minute."

She kissed Stevie's cheek and headed downstairs. She opened the door for Robin, Vickie, Eddie, Chrissy, Jonathan, and Argyle. Nancy smiled when she saw Argyle and Jonathan holding hands.

"So, that finally happened, huh?" Nancy asked with a smile as she followed them into the living room.

"Yeah," Jonathan said, blushing.

"He made the first move," Argyle said, beaming. "Can you believe that, man? Gave me a rock. I had to kiss him."

"Smooth, Byers," Eddie grinned. "Where's Steve?"

"Speaking of that, do not say Steve. It's Stevie today," Nancy said.

"Oh, so that's happening today?" Robin asked.

"Yes, and if you guys say anything disrespectful of Stevie, then you should know that I did bring my gun," Nancy said and paused with a sigh. "I know I can't control how you feel, but I really hope you guys are open-minded when Stevie comes down."

"Aw, that's love," Robin said and paused. "I fully support her right to shoot you if you're rude about your opinion."

"Is everyone ready?" Stevie's voice floated from upstairs.

"Yeah," Nancy replied.

Stevie started moving down the stairs, her nails painted red. Nancy was pleased to see she was wearing her glasses. She loved it when she wore her glasses. Everyone stared at Stevie when she walked into the room.

"You look great, Stevie," Eddie said with a grin, and he turned to Chrissy. "Don't be jealous, babe."

"The only thing I'm jealous of is how pretty Stevie looks," Chrissy said. "And I mean that mostly platonically."

"Okay, now I'm jealous," Eddie grinned.

"Stevie does look great in that skirt. I could never pull off yellow," Vickie said.

"Flirting with Stevie right in front of me and Nancy," Robin said. "Brave."

"I wasn't!" Vickie explained.

"You look beautiful, Stevie," Argyke said. "Your energy is screaming with delight."

"So, are we going to be seeing more of Stevie?" Jonathan asked.

"That depends on how I feel. Sometimes, I feel like Stevie, and sometimes I don't," she replied.

"Either way, I think it's great," Jonathan said.

"Thanks, Jonathan," Stevie said. "So, you guys are okay with this?"

"Yeah, in all seriousness, Stevie, you're still our favorite badass babysitter," Eddie said. "We love you."

Stevie grinned and held out her arms, waving at them.

"Okay, group hug," she demanded.

Robin laughed and dove in first, hugging her best friend tightly before everyone followed suit.

"Proud of you, dingus," she whispered.

"Thanks for not treating me any differently," Stevie said and paused. "Okay, there's supportive, and then there's overly supportive. Who's hand is on my ass?"

"Sorry, that was an accident," Nancy replied.

"Oh, well, that's okay, you're allowed to grab my ass, Nance, we're dating," Stevie said.

"I swear it was an accident," Nancy blushed.

"It's okay, Nancy, Vickie likes to grab my ass too," Robin said.

"Robin!" Vickie laughed.

"Yeah, Chrissy gets a little handsy herself," Eddie said. "Nothing to be ashamed of."

"It's true," Chrissy beamed.

"It was an accident," Nancy laughed. "Trust me. You'd know if it wasn't."

"We're just fucking with you, honey," Stevie said and ducked her head to kiss Nancy.

Stevie had been relieved to know that it had gone well with them. She welcomed any and all questions that were posed to her. When it came time to tell the kids, her friends were there for her. They loved him during his Steve days and her Stevie days. They loved her when she felt like a masculine woman and a feminine man. They loved her when she was caught in between, and they loved them on their genderless days, too. They were loved.

[bubblespalace]

My Original Character in Diabolik Lovers//💋🤍🕊️

TW// mentions of not having enough food or rest.

🩸Name: Bella Wayland

🥀Race: Nephilm: Half angel, Half human.

🕊️Age:19

🌬️Appearance: Bella has super long, curly black hair. She's always super pale and thin because she doesn't have time to eat. She wears a black dress, fit for battle and is always carrying knifes and daggers on her that are marked with runes to help her kill demons. She's tall, 5'9, which makes her intimidating. She has golden eyes, that shine in the light. Strong Italian accent, and speaks Italian and English.

🖤Personality: Calm, Intelligent, Powerful, Cocky, Flirty, Focused, and Caring all at once. She really is good at matching other people's energy. She's an ambivert. She's very closed off around people and doesn't trust easily.

🤍What she calls the diaboys: Shu-Golden Boy/Shoe, Reiji-Four Eyes/Smartie, Ayato-Christmas Eve, Kanato-Puppeteer/Kid, Laito-Christmas, Subaru-Car/Emo

🌹About/Backround: Bella was raised in the beautiful city of Idris until the Circle attacked the Nephilms leaders, The Clave. Her parents died in the battle and she was taken in by a man, who started her harsh training her when she was only two years old. However, her father was a bad man, he was the Leader of The Circle, Valentine Morganstern. She changed her last name to Wayland to separate herself from him.

-Bella and John, her mentor, moved to Milan. She lives in the Milan Institute for Shadowhunters when she is not battling demons. She is one of the strongest Shadowhunters to exist, due to the fact that she has extra angel blood.

-Due to this, she is severely overworked by The Clave. She is used to only getting a meal a week and not getting a lot of sleep. She doesn't know what a lot of things for leisure are, like movies and TV shows. But she knows music because she has had to go to an opera undercover more than once.

-She's been fighting almost all her life. She's very hardcore and doesn't really even know the definition of the word "relax".

-Because she has strong angel blood, her blood is some of the best tasting on Earth. It can also give vampires special abilities, like being able to use runes. It can also enhance the abilities they already have. That's why she is weary of vampires. She doesn't want them to drink her blood and go power-crazy.

-Men fall for her left and right because of her mysterious ways. She's used to having to deal with simps.

💌How she met The Sakamaki Brothers.

-Bella was on a mission in Japan, trying to kill a wanted demon, when she stumbled onto their property accidentally. She ran into Kanato, who smelt her blood quickly and knew just what she was.

"Ah, Teddy? Do you smell how sweet her blood is? I'm quite tempted to take a bite... But then I would ruin her porcelain skin... Fufu... What a shame, I might just have to drain you first, then make you into my new doll."

-It was then that Bella realized he was a vampire. Bella fought Kanato off well until Subaru walked out of his rose garden to see what all the yelling was about.

"Tch, found a new prey, haven't you Kanato-kun? She looks like a Nephilim... She better taste good."

-Bella was malnourished at the time. She may have been strong enough to fight Kanato, but Subaru knocked her out in 30 seconds flat. They dragged her inside and brought her to the living room. Shu, who was lying on the couch as always, opened one eye and glanced at her and the other two men. He seemed almost shocked by how pretty she was. He closed his eyes again.

"As long as she's not noisy, but Reiji might take an interest in her, he's always wanted to experiment on a Shadowhunter before."

-Then, Ayato and Laito walked in, probably on their way back from Yui's room. Laito looked at the passed-out woman in Subaru's arms.

"Fufu, she's quite pretty Subaru-kun~ I might just steal her from you~ Her blood smells delicious."

-Subaru blushed and studdered out his tsundere response. and set her down in the other armchair. Ayato looked at her closely, smirking.

"Tch, she isn't flat like Chichinashi, that's for sure. She's at least a C."

-Reiji walked out of the shadows, looking annoyed because of another unannounced guest, but he perked up when he realized she was of angel blood.

"Although she is trespassing, I suppose we can keep her, but she will be on thin ice."

Bella soon learns that these are The Sakamaki Brothers. When she does, she knows better than to run for it quickly. She's buying her time, when she sees the right moment, she will escape.

She makes friends with Yui, who becomes like a little sister to her, she always directs the boys away from her when she can. However, she may start falling for the six vampires in the process, and they might start falling for her.

🤍🥀

[magici-if]

I'm honestly so looking forward to this! Question about the ROs, may we know what their physical appearance is? Best of luck!

thank u so much! <3 here it is:

Martin is 6'4", the definition of a gentle yet intimidating giant. He has a slightly grown out raven black buzzcut, matching his dark eyes. His fit physique reflects his disciplined nature, and he has no problems showing it off by wearing tight compression shirts or turtlenecks matched with baggy sweatpants. He has a burn scar on his right shoulder that he got from a stupid incident when he was a kid, making him look even more intimidating.

Demetra can only be described as beautiful, she has locks of wavy midnight black hair, which complements her tanned skin. She has smart grey eyes, always seeking to know more. She smells like jasmine and iris, but she won't let you close enough for you to notice. She has black painted nails and several silver rings adorning her fingers. Demetra mostly wears all black, her staple pieces being low rise jeans and fitted zip hoodies.

Evander is 5'7" and skinny, always looking unbothered. His bleached yellow hair always looks messy and uncombed. They have several tattoos adorning their olive skin, their favourite being the intricate vines-and-flowers piece on their back. He has monolid black eyes, with a surface piercing under his right one, as well as a spiked labret piercing. They often wear black tank tops, ripped jeans and leather jackets.

Harley is 5'2", almost swallowed by the baggy clothes she usually wears. Her brown curly hair reaches her shoulders and you'll always spot a pair of sunglasses on top of it, or covering her hazel eyes. She has freckles, short white painted nails and a nose piercing on her right nostril. She usually wears shoe inserts to appear taller, don't tell her you now know her secret. She loves ear piercings, she has several on both ears as well as an industrial on her left side.

Echo looks like she could be the muse of a John Singer Sargent portrait. Wavy light brown hair flows gracefully down to her shoulders, often styled in a chignon. She has sky blue eyes that look often away, reluctant to hold eye contact. Her short painted pink nails match the tiny pink semicolon tattoo on her wrist. Her style can be summarised with Vivienne Westwood, baggy jeans + tiny tops, and hidden tattoos.

Dominic is an intimidating, stern-looking man with slicked-back black hair, a groomed goatee, and dark brown eyes. He stands at 6'2" tall, his strong nose and two small scars on his left eyebrow from a past piercing add to the feeling that this man isn't here to play. Lastly, tailored suits accentuate his broad shoulders and slim neck, completing his refined 'should-be-a-lawyer' look.

[lthienofdorthonion]

Through My Window

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, inspired by the Harry Potter universe and the characters I love so much. I am not trying, under any circumstances, to take authorship of J.K. Rowling's original work. All rights belong to the creator of this incredible saga.

Chapter II: Memories

After several hours of restless dreams, Hermione woke up slowly, feeling the sunlight filtering through the curtains of her room. The warm rays illuminated the space, highlighting the soft purple walls adorned with posters of her friends and memories of the past. A faint smell of toast and coffee reached her, drawing her toward the kitchen. It was time to eat.

As she went down the stairs, she noticed her parents weren’t home. On the kitchen table, she found a small note written in her mother’s familiar handwriting:

"Hermione, we've gone to your father's work meeting. We'll be home by 8:00 p.m. There's some meat in the fridge for you. Love, Mum."

A faint smile crossed her face. Her parents had always been a pillar in her life, but right now, she felt an emptiness she couldn’t ignore. She headed to the fridge, prepared some food, and found each bite heavier than the last. After what felt like a flavorless breakfast, she climbed the stairs back to her room with slow, heavy steps.

When she arrived, she pulled a book from her shelf, trying to immerse herself in the pages she had always loved. However, halfway through, she stopped upon finding a photograph she’d been using as a bookmark. The image filled her with melancholy, taking her back to a distant time when laughter and friendship were her part of her life.

“It feels like it’s been forever,” Hermione thought to herself, her mind drifting back. “I can still remember the last time we were together... everything felt so much simpler then.”

/ FLASHBACK /

Ron, Harry, and Hermione were in a quiet corner of Hogwarts, far from the commotion of the reconstruction. The castle, though battered, was beginning to regain some of its former glory, but the three of them still felt the weight of the war in their hearts.

The war was over, but the scars it left behind ran deep and showed clearly in each of them. Ron, taller and more robust than before, looked exhausted. His red hair, once so full of life, was messy and dull. The freckles on his face, which used to highlight his cheerful nature, now seemed to emphasize a weariness that went beyond the physical. Harry, always shorter and leaner, carried the marks of countless battles. His green eyes, once bright with hope, were dim, burdened with pain and memories impossible to erase.

Hermione, standing between them, tried to be the strong one. Her curly hair fell softly over her shoulders, and her smile, though strained, remained warm. She had a quiet beauty, almost ethereal, that was more apparent in the depth of her gaze than in her appearance. She faked cheerfulness, hiding her sadness well. But her eyes sometimes betrayed her, becoming teary for brief moments. Although she always managed to keep the lump in her throat at bay, melancholy overwhelmed her when her friends weren’t looking.

She knew this farewell wasn’t what it seemed. For weeks, they had barely seen each other, and if they were meeting that day, it was more by chance than intention. A bitter thought crossed her mind: Perhaps this isn’t a “see you later,” but a goodbye.

—We’ve been through so much together. I don’t know, it just feels like there should be more,— Harry said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. His voice was steady, but there was a lingering sadness in it, the weight of memories he couldn’t escape. His green eyes, always searching, seemed to be looking for something—anything—that might offer a glimpse of hope.

Ron nodded, his gaze dropping to the ground. —Yeah, I agree. But... I’m really going to miss you, you know? A lot. We’re off to Romania next week, and honestly, I don’t know when we’ll be able to see each other again.

Hermione, feeling her emotions on the verge of overflowing, managed to speak before tears gave her away.

—Then we’ll go to Romania, won’t we, Harry?— she said with a forced smile, trying to lighten the moment, though her voice trembled slightly.

Harry tried to play along. —Of course we will. It’ll be an interesting vacation. Dragons and all that.

Ron smiled faintly but said nothing. Hermione knew their words were just that—words. A promise that would never be fulfilled. They would drift apart, like leaves falling from trees, and nothing could stop it.

As she pretended to listen, her mind betrayed her, taking her back to the darkest days of the war. Flashes of memories overwhelmed her: the sound of curses tearing through the air, the screams of those who fell, lifeless bodies scattered on the cold ground. And among all those horrors, a pair of gray eyes shone with coldness.

Those eyes had watched her from the shadows, filled with hatred—the kind of hatred that would have once made her tremble. But in recent months, that hatred seemed tinged with something else, something she couldn’t quite decipher, but which, on some level, had shaken her in a different way.

She vividly remembered seeing him there, in the midst of chaos, his wand steady as he pointed it at defenseless people. The sound of his voice, cold and assured, echoed as he pronounced unforgivable curses with impressive agility, taking lives as if they were mere pawns in a cruel game. Each word that came from his mouth felt like a dagger to Hermione’s chest—a reminder that the boy she had briefly thought she knew had turned into something far darker and more dangerous.

But then, something happened that left her in shock: as he pointed at another victim, his gray eyes met hers. Their gazes locked, and for a moment, everything stopped. His wand wavered, his lips parted as if he was about to say something else. It was a fleeting hesitation, a moment that might have gone unnoticed if not for the fact that Hermione felt it in the depths of her being.

“He hesitated,” she thought. “For an instant, he doubted.”

But the doubt disappeared as quickly as it came. His eyes hardened again, and without further hesitation, he continued casting the same spells, wreaking the same destruction. Hermione, not knowing what else to do, seized that moment to escape. She ran without looking back, her heart heavy with what she had just witnessed.

Now, that memory haunted her. Hermione didn’t know why, but she couldn’t shake the strange weight that moment had left on her chest.

/ END FLASHBACK /

A brief smile crossed Hermione’s face as she thought of those days, but it quickly faded into a sigh of nostalgia and sadness. Two years had passed since then, and the promise to stay in touch seemed more like an illusion than reality. She felt the weight of the truth: that promise had been a lie. She had always known it.

—What became of them?— she wondered, feeling alone in a world that seemed to have forgotten her. The thought that her friends might have left her behind cut her deeply. But she couldn’t understand why she had never tried to contact them. Perhaps, as Harry had said, they had been through so much together—so much pain—that remembering was unbearable. Perhaps even now, they wondered the same about her. Perhaps they, too, questioned if she had forgotten them.

A dull noise interrupted her thoughts, pulling her out of her reverie. Nervously, she stood up and began searching for the source of the sound, only to find, to her surprise, that it was the book she had thrown into the wardrobe.

—What a scaredy-cat I am,— she laughed softly, feeling slightly embarrassed.

She picked up the book and stared at it, her fingers tracing its worn cover. The title: Potions. That subject had always been the most challenging for her in that school full of magic, a place where the impossible became reality. Memories of her previous classes assaulted her, but what saddened and angered her most was the memory of one person: an insensitive person who had left an indelible mark on her heart.

Those gray eyes had always unsettled her. At first glance, they seemed as cold as steel, hard and calculating, revealing only disdain. Yet when she found herself under his scrutiny—because he always seemed to be watching her as though assessing her, searching for something she didn’t know she possessed—she felt that in that icy gaze lay labyrinths of thoughts.

Hermione sighed almost imperceptibly as her mind betrayed her again, lingering on details she tried to ignore. His angular face, with its sharp lines that gave him a severe air, seemed sculpted with precision. There was something about his features that made him stand out, as if every detail of his appearance was crafted to attract attention without trying.

And then there were his lips. For some reason, her thoughts returned to them more often than she cared to admit. Frequently curled into a smirk, they seemed to have a personality of their own, capable of adding an extra edge to every word he spoke. But there were also moments—rare and fleeting—when that expression vanished, leaving something disconcerting, almost... alluring. His lips were well-defined, neither too full nor too thin, and when he spoke, every movement seemed deliberate, as if even in his cruelest words there was an intentionality, something impossible to ignore.

But it wasn’t just his face that lingered in her memory. His distinguished demeanor, the way he walked with his squared shoulders and his head held high, exuded a confidence that sometimes bordered on arrogance. He was tall, taller than she remembered from their early years at Hogwarts, with a build that, while not muscular like some of their classmates, had a lean elegance that she couldn’t help but notice. There was something about his presence, a mix of power and control that always left her feeling uneasy and on edge, and he acted like he knew it.

Hermione slammed the book shut, trying to drown out the thoughts swirling in her head. It was absurd, almost insulting, that her mind allowed itself to focus on those details after everything he represented and everything he had done. But as much as she tried to convince herself those thoughts were irrelevant, she couldn’t deny that they lingered—persistent and painfully vivid.

Frustrated, Hermione threw the book under her bed, feeling her anger raise.

—For heaven’s sake! Why can’t I get this out of my head? I’m so sick of it!— she shouted, her voice echoing in the solitude of the room.

She sat on her bed, trying to calm herself, to find some air amidst the storm of emotions. But then a memory surfaced—one of many she could never forget.

/ FLASHBACK /

—Granger!— heard a voice calling her, dragging out the words with a tone of disdain that made her freeze.

She turned around and her eyes met Draco Malfoy's gray eyes, those eyes that always seemed to carry a hint of malice. Tall, slender, blond, insufferable, and always with unbearable superiority.

—What do you want, Malfoy?— Hermione replied disdainfully, barely concealing the anger in her voice.

—Can I tell you something?— Malfoy asked with a mocking smile.

—What?— she replied back, her patience quickly wearing thin.

—Someone like you will eventually show their true colors… nasty ones, though I think you’ve done that from the start. You’re just a filthy Mudblood, and that will never change,— Malfoy sneered, his grin widening as his friends, Crabbe and Goyle laughed like a pair of idiots.

Hermione glared at him with contempt, feeling a burning sensation in her chest.

—Drop dead!— she spat, turning on her heel to leave, trying to put that vile interaction behind her.

But the echo of her words had barely faded when she heard mocking voices behind her. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle began mimicking her, their exaggerated tones dripping with derision.

—Drop dead?— Malfoy drawled, his tone laced with smug amusement. —Really, Granger, that’s the best you’ve got? What’s next? Sticking your tongue out?—

Crabbe and Goyle snickered, their laughter low and guttural as Malfoy’s mocking continued, his voice carrying a smug confidence that made her blood boil. —Truly, you’ve outdone yourself this time.—

—Oh yeah, real scary, Granger!— Crabbe snorted, his voice thick and clumsy as he tried to keep up with Malfoy’s mockery. —Better watch out, or she’ll, uh… throw a book at us or something!—

—Oh, heaven forbid she loses points, right, Granger?— Malfoy drawled, his voice dripping with theatrical sarcasm. —But don’t worry, I’m sure you could just bat your eyes at that old fossil Dumbledore and he’d hand you a hundred for, I don’t know, existing.—

His smirk deepened, sharp as ever. —Must be nice, being the teacher’s pet of a walking antique. Tell me, does it come with a shiny badge or just a lifetime supply of condescension?—

Hermione turned around and starting walking, trying to reach the exit, but Malfoy was faster. He stepped in front of her, blocking her path with a defiant expression on his face. The cool breeze from outside stilled, as if the air itself held its breath in anticipation. Malfoy crossed his arms, his mocking smile daring her to react.

—And where exactly do you think you’re going, Mudblood?— Malfoy sneered. —Did I say you could leave? No, I didn’t. Funny how people like you always seem to forget their place, thinking they can just walk away from their betters.—

Hermione felt cornered, her heart pounding as anger and humiliation boiled within her. It was as if every word Malfoy spoke released a venom that burned.

—What do you want, Malfoy?— Hermione snapped, her tone sharp as she squared her shoulders, willing herself to appear braver than she felt. Her heart was pounding, but she refused to let him see it. —Is this some new hobby of yours? Cornering girls? You must be so proud.—

She clenched her fists, drawing on every ounce of courage she could muster with a steady voice despite the nervous energy buzzing in her chest. —And don’t forget, Malfoy, I’ve already punched you once. I’m more than capable of doing it again.—

Malfoy moved a little closer, closing the distance between them with calculated slowness. His gaze, sharp as a razor, traveled through every corner of her face. There was something about his movements that made the air around them feel thicker, more suffocating. A sneer spread across his lips as he spoke, his tone dripping with venom.

—Pay attention, Granger, — Malfoy drawled, stepping closer, his gray eyes fixed on hers with a sharp intensity that made her stomach twist. His voice was low, laced with that infuriating mix of disdain and something darker, something unspoken. —Just thought you might need a reminder of where you stand. A little clarity about your... position. After all, you’ll never be anything more than a Mudblood to people like us.—

The words rang through the air, full of contempt, and Crabbe and Goyle joined in with a stupid laughter, creating a chorus that amplified the tension of the moment. But Hermione was barely listening. There was something in Malfoy's eyes that had thrown her off.

As he leaned slightly toward her, his grey pupils captured hers for a moment longer than necessary. As he scanned her up and down carefully, as if searching for something beyond her defiant words, there was a strange glint in his gaze. A glint that faded almost as quickly as it had appeared, but it did not go unnoticed by her.

The scrutiny made her feel exposed, vulnerable in a way that couldn't be explained. Her heart raced, not from fear, but from an unfamiliar feeling that made her deeply uncomfortable. Was it curiosity? Something else? She didn't know, and she didn't want to know.

She forced herself to regain control, to not allow that moment to disarm her. But at the same time, she couldn't ignore the feeling that there was something about him, in that look, that made him seem less confident than he appeared. That slight crack in his mask of superiority confused her more than she was willing to admit.

Hermione felt anger take hold of her, but she knew she couldn't let Malfoy intimidate her. With a great effort, she gathered her courage and decided to push him with all her might, causing him to stagger.

—I don’t need your approval, Malfoy, and I’m certainly not interested in whatever game you think you’re playing,— Hermione said, her voice steady despite the furious pounding of her heart. She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze with unwavering defiance. —You’re pathetic, just like your father. And if you think you can rattle me, you’re wasting your time. I’m not that easily shaken.—

Malfoy smiled coldly, but his eyes held a spark of frustration and an expression she didn’t know how to interpret. Hermione felt proud of herself for standing up for herself. With one last glance at Malfoy, she turned to run, determined to find shelter in the nearby park. However, in that fleeting moment when their eyes met again, Hermione noticed something disconcerting again. He observed her carefully, not just her face, but all of her, as if he were trying to decipher something that not even he himself fully understood, he also seemed... sad? The look was intense, loaded with a weight that seemed too much for the short moment they shared.

The sensation made her trip slightly over her own feet as she walked away, her heart beating even faster. There was something in those gray eyes that she couldn't ignore, something that didn't fit with the mask of indifference and contempt that he always insisted on showing.

/ END OF FLASHBACK /

As she walked, echoes of her past resonated in her mind, but there was also a spark of hope that guided her. Maybe, one day, those memories wouldn't be a burden, but a part of the story that had made her what she was.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// ✨See chapter I here:

https://www.tumblr.com/lthienofdorthonion/770129247888097280/through-my-window

✨Read full story in AO3 here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60701563

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Return to the Water

Chapter Four: Only For a Moment

AO3 one two three four five six seven eight nine

I know we shouldn’t start, but baby, I’m a slave to the rhythm of your heart.—Marianas Trench, Rhythm of Your Heart

“You want me to bathe wearing panties and a bra?”

“No,” Tim said patiently. “I want you to wear a swimsuit while I teach you how to bathe.”

“I know how to bathe,” she said, defensive.

“You know how to comb and condition your hair so it doesn’t frizz up when it dries?”

Lea pursed her lips. “Okay,” she admitted, “I dunno how to do that.”

“Uh huh.”

He gave her two articles of azure-colored clothing in a strange fabric, and by the time she was done putting them on, he had… removed his shirt and put on those same shorts he’d been wearing when he fell in the ocean.

“Okay,” Tim said as his gaze raked over her body. “C’mon.”

He held a bag of items as he led her out of the bedroom and into what she now knew was a bathroom, and then into a fairly large chamber with blue tiles. “This is a shower,” he explained. “Here, I’ll show you how it works.”

A shower, as it turned out, was essentially a rain chamber. He instructed her on how to turn it on and off and adjust the water to her liking.

“It’s warm,” Lea observed, bewildered.

He stared down at her for a moment. “I… guess you wouldn’t be used to warm water, huh? But yeah, people like varying degrees of heat when they bathe.”

It was several seconds before Lea declared, “Humans are weird,” for the bazillionth time.

“Uh huh,” he said, having heard this plenty of times. “So first, you get your hair wet.” He closed his eyes and put his head under the water. Once his stupidly beautiful curls were plastered to his stupidly beautiful face, he grabbed a small tub off a shelf. “Okay, so this is shampoo.” Tim put some goop from the container on his hand and lathered it into his hair. “It cleans your hair, see? You try.”

Lea hesitantly took some of the goop and put it in her hair, the same way he did. “It smells weird,” she decided.

“Uh huh, most shower stuff is scented,” he explained. “Okay, so make sure you get your scalp really good, and get all the way through your hair. Which must be crazy because yours is so long, but— yeah.”

She tried to do as he instructed, and once she’d done so to his satisfaction, he grabbed a strange metal rod off the wall and pressed a button on it. To her astonishment, a stream of water came out. She stared, bewildered, as he leaned his head back—holy fuck, his jaw when he did that, and water was dripping down his body in rivulets, holy fuck—and rinsed his curls out. “See? You start at your scalp and work your way down.”

“Right,” Lea said slowly, hesitantly accepting the metal rod and trying to do the same. It took much longer, as her hair reached her knees, but she managed it.

“Okay,” he said with a grin, grabbing another tub. “Time for conditioner. You’ve got curly hair, so I apologize for how much of a hassle this’ll be for ya.”

He put the conditioner in his hair, and she mimicked him carefully. The conditioner was the color of gold, and it made her hair look interesting.

Once she’d done that, Timothée smiled at her, and she could’ve sworn her heart stopped. “So we leave that to sit for a little bit,” he explained. He grabbed a cloth. “This is a washcloth,” he told her. “You put soap on it and scrub your body.” When Lea nodded her understanding, he grabbed a bottle and poured some of what she assumed was soap onto it. He gave her a washcloth and encouraged her to rub it over her skin, nodding when she did so in a way he deemed satisfactory. Lea did her best to be quick about it, but when she washed the cleavage between her breasts, he stared at the area as she did, his mouth hanging open a bit.

“What?” Lea said, confused by the way he was staring at her. “You’re looking at me like you want to eat me again. Are you sure humans don’t eat each other?”

Timothée’s mouth snapped closed, and his gaze met hers again. “It’s not exactly a common practice, no,” she said slowly. “Anyway, you’re, uh.” He swallowed and cleared his throat. “You’re doing a good job.” His gaze traveled back down to her breasts again.

“Human men are weird,” Lea observed.

“I imagine mermen are just as weird,” he countered with a small smile.

“There are only mermaids. We don’t have males.”

He blinked down at her in surprise. “Then how do you reproduce?”

“Humans,” Lea said easily, bending over to wash her new legs.

Behind her, she heard Timothée swallow.

Lea couldn’t sleep. She hadn’t slept for more than half an hour at a time since she became human. She knew why; her mother had told her that when her and her sisters’ father was alive, she couldn’t sleep without touching him, if he wasn’t holding her. But what could she say, how could she explain such a thing to Timothée? ‘Hey, Timothée, so I can’t tell you why, but I can’t sleep unless you’re holding me. Don’t ask questions.’ Yeah, no.

The only way she could get any rest was in the little bit of the ocean that was down a ladder by the outdoor bathtub. The villa had.

She was laying there in the sand one night, her body swaying in the ocean, when suddenly, she was ripped from the shallow water.

“What the—?!”

“What are you doing, trying to kill yourself?” Timothée demanded, panting. “You’ll drown!”

“What?” Lea said tiredly. “No, of course not. I was trying to sleep.” He looked confused, so she explained, “Just because I lost my tail doesn’t mean I can’t breathe underwater still.”

His lips parted, and he frowned slightly, considering this. “Oh.”

“Now go away and let me sleep.”

“R— right,” he muttered, presumably going to dry off. Though why humans wanted to get rid of the seawater, she’d never understand.

What helped her sleep that night was the memory of his touch, even though it was only for a moment.

Big thanks to my beta @lilmaymayy

Tag list:

@ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence @timmymyluv @oddlyenoughiamweird @leecrunchybones @s-we-e-t-t-ea @almostg @leespparker @bubblebuttwade @glizzymcguirex @starberry-cake @camille-1019 @lixzey @shycreationdreamland @gossamer19

To be added, please ask 💗

[esters-notepad]

In which Zeus goes to the club and is confronted by a bunch of nerds

Inspired by some recent discussion on @irishironclad's tumblr. Thanks to @catkin-morgs-kookaburralover for coming up with the deciding plot twist!

The Sky-Father, Optimus Maximus, the Hospitable, the Protector of Armies, the Protector of Friendship, he of the Rains, the Storms, the Thunder and Lightning (commonly known as Zeus) yawned and stretched his shoulders. He felt like he had slept for a long time. Years, even. He checked the time, and promptly shot bolt upright. One thousand four hundred years??? That couldn't be right... except it was. At least his follower count was up to a four-digit number again. More than enough to get out of bed and perform some minor miracles. He'd beat that usurping half-godling yet. Zeus snuck a glance at his nagging old battleaxe Hera, but she was still deep in a coma, follower count so low that she was actually slightly transparent. Ha! Nobody loves a party pooper. Time to go out and have some fun with the mortals.

Marina had been dancing for several songs, when she suddenly noticed another dancer following her. He looked like a classical statue with his curly hair, elegant nose and buff body. His colours were perfect too: hair so dark it bordered on violet, skin olive-brown and clear, teeth white as snow. She threw herself into the beat, relishing the experience of having such a beautiful and skilled partner. The people around them even drew back a little, forming a circle for them to show off in. When the song ended, she made a flourishing curtsey, overdone to Gibraltar and back. He returned the favour as a small, ironic bow. Marina looked towards the bar, feeling out of breath. As if he could read her thoughts, he grabbed her elbow and steered towards a quiet corner where one could drink and talk. "That was awesome!" Marina said. "Are you a professional dancer, or something?" The unknown man looked almost affronted. "Certainly not! I employ them! ...or I used to." "You must be older than you look, then." He drunk deep from his wine glass instead of replying. Marina sipped her mojito, slightly uncomfortable with how openly he was looking her over. Sure, she had a good body and she knew it. Yes, she had made an effort to look sexy before coming to the club. But he didn't have to be so crass about it! "Who are you?" he asked abruptly. "Eleni", Marina lied with practised perfection. "And you?" "You can call me Dias." "All right, Dias, it was fun dancing with you." Marina left her half-drunk mojito on the table and went for the dance floor, trying to lose Dias in the crowd. Somehow, he stayed right beside her. The man seemed positively incapable of taking a hint. Marina danced her way back to the bar - not the quiet table of before, but the middle of the main bar, in plain view of everyone - and took out her cellphone. Before she could even pull up her sister's number, there was a small electrical shock to her hand, and the machine died. Marina looked up. Barely an arm's length away stood Dias, smiling cruelly, lightning playing around the fingers of his right hand. "Who are you?" Marina said breathlessly, without expecting an answer.

Stavros moved around nervously on his seat. Something was different tonight, he could feel it. Something was making it difficult to concentrate. Konstantin and Dimitrios seemed distracted, as well. Thomas was reciting their usual evening prayer, but without the usual presence of spirit. At the point where they would normally have segued into the Lord's Prayer, Thomas instead said: "Holy Spirit, please guide us. Holy Spirit, please lead us. Holy Spirit, please show us the way." Outside, Stavros thought. That back alley two blocks away. Something's wrong there. "The back alley behind the club," Konstantin said. Dimitrios stared at him: "You felt it too?" "Me too!" Stavros almost shouted. "We should probably go there," Thomas concluded. "Holy Spirit, keep guiding us. God, keep us safe. Amen. Let's be careful."

The summer night was hot and oppressive, with a hint of upcoming thunder. Stavros hung a little back, content to hide his slight form behind those of his brawnier friends. Neon signs flashed. Taxi cabs cruised the street. People walked by, most in flashier dress than their little boardgames-and-prayer-group, most talking and laughing out loud in the grip of intoxication. The little back alley seemed deserted by comparison. Closed and locked doors, shuttered windows, parked cars, some overflowing garbage bins. Directly behind the club was an unhealthy-looking oak tree, and beneath it they could see a man kneeling over a woman, pushing her down on the ground, lifting his hand as if to rip her dress off. "Stop!" Thomas called, and his voice seemed to echo between the walls of the narrow alley. The assailant didn't let go of his victim, but he twisted around to look at them over his shoulder. Pure beauty, Stavros thought. Pure hate. Pure evil. He immediately scolded himself: no human being is purely evil, just as nobody is purely good except Jesus. But his impression remained. "Get lost," Thomas said. "Leave her alone." The assailant sneered. "And who are you to command me?" he said. "I am Thomas, a servant of the Lord Christ," Thomas said simply. "I am Konstantin, a servant of the Lord Christ," Konstantin repeated. Dimitrios added his voice, and Stavros hurriedly stepped out of the other's shadow to face down this ancient evil would-be rapist. A corner of his mind insisted that he and his friends were being ridiculous, that they should attack the guy or call the police or something, not recite corny lines. Stavros repeated it anyway, and the guy fell back a little, as if he'd been struck. The woman took the opportunity to wiggle out and run away. Stavros didn't blame her. "And by that name you command me to be gone," the man said mockingly. "You said it," Thomas said calmly. "By the name of Jesus Christ, we command you to be gone." "Damn your Lord to Hell, and you with him!" "He's been there," Thomas said. "Now he rules it," Dimitrios added. The man in front of them let out a frustrated scream. Lightning struck the oak tree, and Stavros jumped back in surprise. When he'd recovered, the unknown man had disappeared. "Where did he go?" Stavros asked. "Behind these cars?" Konstantin suggested. "No, he's not here. Strange. He must have gotten away somehow." "Guys, that was wild," Dimitrios said. "We faced down a bad guy, and won. Woo!" "Where did the woman go?" Thomas said. "We should make sure that he doesn't catch her again." "I don't think he can," Konstantin said. "She ran past us towards the street, right? And he could hardly have gotten past us - he must have gone deeper into the alley." "And even if he got past us..." Stavros said. "Even if he did, she had time to get away into a taxi, or a restaurant, or something." "You're probably right," Thomas said. "All right, I know it's late, but how about we all go back to my place anyway? Have some more tea, give proper thanks to God, calm down a little. What do you say?" "Best idea you ever had, man," Dimitrios said. Stavros just smiled.

[to-myalphonse]

"It's you." Venti x Black Reader

Happy Black History Month!

Character x Black Reader

This year I decided to do something for my fellow Black Readers.

Venti is a favorite of mine and a comfort character. I hope you enjoy! (Number) - dont remember how many bard contests Venven won.

"If I could wish for one thing, I take the smile that you'd bring."

"Wherever you go in this world, I'll come along."

The teal-haired bard performed a new tune to the crowds in the streets. Children dance and sing off-key repeating his lyrics. His older audience was entranced by the tune. His sweet voice resonates on the breeze, enticing others to come watch.

"That will be all." You wave to the merchant as you walk through the streets. Mondstadt is a lovely nation. The scenery and some of the buildings mimic the old towns depicted in books. You open the book that the merchant sold you.

Mondstadt's Encyclopedia

People rush past you on their way to their destinations.With your nose in a book, you stroll blindly, focusing on it. You go from one level to the next, step by step.

"Is that a Traveler?" Someone mutters, assuming they're talking about you. A man yelled something about adventurers or something else that you couldn't pay attention to.

Stormterror's lair is in the older areas of Monstadt, where Monstadters used to live under Decabarian's severe authority.

The damaged pillars and wind barrier were captured in the photographs. The images of the Kamera make them appear nearly lost in time. You made a note in the book that you'll come back later.

You pull your curly hair behind your ears.

Music fills your ears as you take the next step up the stairs.

A bard is singing, but their voice sounds far away. The female(?)  singer's voice, which you imagined must have been screaming their song, could be heard all the way down the staircase.

Grimacing, you pocket the book and proceed to see who the singer is.

She probably hasn't taken any lessons.

When you reach the top, you will notice a crowd gather around the girl. Her voice softens as you approach her (?).

The song she performs got considerably clearer. Her voice quietly sings to the company that is gathered around. You let out a tiny sigh as you approach to listen.

Her gaze flickers up to you. Teal, almost glowing eyes gaze over your figure. You feel a sense of comfort almost immediately. As she finishes her song, her(?) eyes move to another individual in the crowd.

The others around you clap, and you do too. She bows and walks towards you.

You swallow freezing up, as she(?) gets closer.Her pigtails flow smoothly as she steps forward.

She looks in your direction before passing you to proceed down the stairs.

You lightly hit yourself on the head; she  just wrapped up her show, of couse she would not want to  speak.

The time rapidly shifts towards the evening. As the sky darkens, everyone closed their stores for the night, except you, who went to visit Starsnatch cliff.

You leave the city to make your way there. Hilichurrl camps make camp for the night as they sleep, allowing you to pass freely.

"It should be easy to pass through." Fortunately, you were able to go cautiously without encountering a treasure hunter or monster. As you climbed the cliff drop to Starsnatch Cliff, white flowers appeared.

"This is beautiful."

"I agree." A familiar voice speaks to your right. You grab your knife, which is easily blown out of your hands.

"Oh, you're the one from earlier." The teal-haired girl pauses in front of you.

"You're the girl who was singing!" He stares at you, surprised, before breaking into laughter.

"That's won't be first that people thought of me like that." You roll your eyes, regretting it, as a long hair pokes you in the eye, making the bard laugh the harder.

"Who are you?" The bard makes a slight bow.

"I am Venti, a bard. (Number) time winner of Mondstadt's bard winning contest." You laugh and bow briefly.

"Name." He nods in greeting.

"So what are you doing up here." The bard hums before taking a seat by a cluster of white flowers on the ground.

"It helps me think." He displays the papers that he has on hand. A tune, maybe?

"It's a poem." He corrects you. He hums while penning another stanza.

"What do you usually write about?" He hums before confronting you.

"Fables, history, travelers." He emphasizes the last point while staring at you. You take a seat next to him, trying not to trample the flowers.

Your curly hair blew somewhat, but thankfully not into your eye. The moonlight and soft wind shine on Venti. A little halo of light surrounds him, making his turquoise hair and clothes shine. His eyes move as he continues writing on the paper, unconcerned by your stare. His colored hair briefly lightened up before disappearing.

"What's wrong?" You jump as his eyes lock on your e/c ones. Embrassment crept up on you as you looked away from him.

"It's nothing." He lays his pen down on the paper. A green light appeared in his palms, revealing a wooden lyre.

"Any requests?" He smiles at you as he gently taps the instrument.

"None that I can think of." He nods while strumming the lyre. The introduction begins slowly and then increases in volume. You hum along to a tune you don't know the name of. Venti hums as you both harmonize.