#more clock tower art in the making | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mooishbeam · 8 months

Text

『♡』 In the Ring

♡ featuring: boxer!wriothesley x manager!reader

♡ summary: its hard managing a boxer full time. maybe it's time you relieve that stress. wc: 6.8k+ (???>":>?)

♡ cw/tw: mentions of trauma, mentions of violence, rough sex, overstim, face-sitting, size kink, unintentional edging, hair pulling, mentions of choking, argument, confessed feelings, slow burn, kinda toxic?

notes: can u tell how down bad i am for wriothesley. also do yall like the smaller text cause I do. jing yuan fluff next :)) art by sxnalien on twitter! <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

For a second, the crowd stills. Bright intense lamps illuminate the sweltering squared circle, buoyant under the nimble movement of the boxers. They trade blows, bobbing and throwing each devastating hook with an even deadlier counter. No one took a hit for the past minutes, and the audience scoots to the edge of their seats at the sheer stamina of the two. Both dripping sweat, barely holding on between the merciless clock and their steadfast opponent. You can almost hear the breeze of swift jabs cutting wind against their jaws. The one with blue gloves can barely manage to guard himself, with a swollen face and wobbly legs, while the crimson gloves deal relentless punches. The crowd shouts. Unintelligible echoes, some that pray for the win, others grieving the money they’re about to lose. He’s caught on the ropes, and attempts a wild swing to save himself, to save his career. Red gloves weaves effortlessly and delivers a brutal crush to his bloodied nose and possibly busted mouthpiece. The crack is resounding, it makes the commentators cringe. His skull flies back, and he comes crashing down from his dizzying tower. The head-first fall vibrates beneath the feet of investors in proximity.

DING DING DING

Mass uproar ensues. They jump out of their seats, flailing their arms, joy and pain in equilibrium.

“And he is out! It’s all over!” the commentator yells. Confetti floats golden dust from the ceiling. The victor stalks the ropes before hopping on them, his gloves raised in the air. Glistening, high off elation, but somehow composed in his attitude, akin to a wolf.

“A savage knockout from the untouchable world champion, the king of the ring, Wriooothesley!”

“Wrio, Wrio, Wrio!” they chant. You’re standing near the ropes, already identifying which joints you’ll need to observe after his victory lap. It’s hectic, and you’re jotting down the state of his figure. Past experiences sew through each deep scar carving his rugged biceps and abs, the bruises display early signs of discoloration. He’s tall on the unseen throne, it feels like you’re there with him. A million eyes in that vast stadium, and yet, those midwinter eyes ebbed in silver only look at you.

Your beginnings as a manager were tumultuous. You could barely comprehend how out of your league you were working for a renowned agency fresh out of college. Though you found quick success in your ability to grab the attention of investors through public relations, you weren’t equipped just yet with the hindsight in preparing for scandals. The other athletes you worked with served no problem, and so you never had to worry about their appeal. Higher ups praised your extensive portfolio, and at such a young age, it was even more commendable. You earned it, fame and respect, interviews and gossip—a delicate dance. You were always busy, assisting your clients throughout the day and maintaining their presence while they slept. It was hard work, but you loved doing it.

That was until you worked with amateur boxer, Childe.

A snappy, overconfident lightweight fighter with no regard for anything or anyone. He had an unmistakable void in his eyes, but you fought for him ceaselessly, to prove that he wasn’t the cold person he portrayed himself as. You bore with his flirtatious compliments and innuendos, the need to focus him whenever you documented his afflictions, and he’d not-so-subtly flex his biceps. Childe was unnecessarily violent with underhanded tactics. The media knew this and did everything to amplify that bellicose story. You’d combat it, negate it, but he only fed the flames with threats of retaliation. Taking his phone wasn’t enough, and you couldn’t get through to him. It was only a matter of time before he went off the deep end.

The day you slept, you discovered a restlessness you’d endure indefinitely. The flickering glow of your device woke you at midnight as hundreds of notifications congested your screen. 128 missed calls from your agency, 50 from news sources, and none from Childe. When you processed the damage from his deplorable stunt, you nearly hurled your phone out the window. He posted revenge porn, and evidently turned off his phone. Surely, there’d be a way to fix this. The chances seemed to dissolve with each text turning green. You started pacing, battling with morality and loyalty and anger. What he did was disgusting, but it’s your job to save him, right? Is he worth saving? You spoke with 4 managers at once, switching through motives and bickering until morning. As you flipped through the television, another emotion struck you.

There he was, on a tasteless gossip channel. An interview you didn’t arrange, with a man you’ve never seen before. And he was...crying? The sob story emitting from his deceitful lips was almost impressive. Childe went on about how “demanding and horrible” you were backstage. The crocodile tears dried up through dodgy anecdotes, but it was enough to have people hooked. You were allegedly physically and emotionally abusive. He was too scared to speak up due to your position and he just couldn’t bear it any longer. Then he dropped the bomb; he blamed you for his post. You forced him to do it, jealous of his previous partners, emphasizing how enamored you were of him. The questionable tears began to fall again, but this time he covered his mouth, withholding the duping smile crawling on his face.

You were filled with blinding rage, unable to control the fury at which your remote connected with the screen. It was everywhere now, social media websites booming with live opinions. He had no reason to slander you, and you couldn’t pinpoint why he chose to hurt you like this. You cried for him, shared stories of childhood and family. The knife you used to protect him was firm in your back, twisting and digging with each disgusting message in your inbox. You had no game plan to conduct, and no tears left to cry.

Within a week, you finally understood how cruel this industry could be. Within a week, you were no longer on top. You lost clients fast. It spread like wildfire and not a single outlet spared an ear for your side. People you called friends, coworkers, hadn’t replied to your messages. When you got back to work, the rooms were silent as you passed. You could feel their judgement, whispers rattled with rumors and accusations. They waited for the tiniest slip-up and pounced like hyenas—you were eaten alive by their pitiful stares. You attempted to tell your truth multiple times throughout the week, but it was consistently rejected. The headlines were eye-catching:

“Manager From Hell: Childe Tells All!”

“He Cries: A Story of Love and Jealousy”

Your stomach churned to the magazines being shown. Despite the great amount of loss you suffered, you were thankful for the one person that believed you, your boss.

“Childe is a lying little snake. The media knows that, too.”

“Then why is this happening?”

“Money. That story is making bank right now. But I know for a fact you wouldn’t do this” he reassured.

“Thank you, sir. But...I lost everything; I just don’t know what to do.” The weariness was heavy in your voice.

“I have someone you can manage. It won’t be easy, but if anyone can do it, it’s you.” You were unsure of yourself now, and he continued.

“You’re one of my best. If you want to climb out of this, now’s your chance.” Yes, you were unsure, drowning in doubt. But if the only way to get above water was to keep swimming, you wouldn’t give up so easily.

Wriothesley wasn’t exactly known for his kindness. Crude, cocky, maybe even spoiled were descriptions that circulated in the tabloids. He had a knack for pissing reporters off by not answering questions or humming over their voice with a shit-eating grin on his face. Women loved him, however, throwing bras and phone numbers written on scrap as the condemned “bad boy” departed post-game. They screamed his name at once, and he’d done nothing to deserve it. He relished infamy—that way, it was much harder to pry into his private life.

It had to be a coincidence that it was someone you fangirled over. In college, your eyes were glued to the screen every Sunday, waiting for Wriothesely’s post-conference and behind the scenes interviews. He didn’t speak often, but just the sight of those inky strands streaked with ash made your heart flutter featherlight in your chest.

When you first approached him, he was just as arrogant as you’d expect.

“Good evening!” you beamed. You caught him outside the gym, and he still had his headphones in. Full volume and blankly staring as you went on about the opportunity, silent under the blaring music. He took one earbud out when you finished.

“Hm? Who’re you?”

You were slightly annoyed. “Let me reintroduce myself, I’m (Y/N). Your new manager.”

“No. Bye.” He began to walk past you without an ounce of care. You couldn’t lose it like this.

“Ah, wait!” He turned half-heartedly.

“Listen, I get it. You don’t want to be bossed around. But honestly, your reputation is shit. That can’t be good for business.” you persuaded. He towered over you, the figure of a Greek giant peeked through the compression top as he lazily watched you.

“So? Why do you care?” he remarked.

“I’ll help you. Sponsors, advertisements, whatever you want. You’re good, but you can be so much better. Let’s make money together.” You held your hand out, awaiting a handshake of approval. He merely glanced at your limp wrist.

“Help? You’re obviously not doing this for free.”

“Of course not. Give a little, take a little. I don’t do charity cases” you shrugged.

He groaned, raking his fingers through his thick mane. At the very least, he hadn’t walked away yet. “I'd prefer for my life to be private.”

“Then I’ll guarantee your privacy.”

“Really?” he scoffed. “What can you give me besides empty promises?”

“Anything you desire. Work with me, and I’ll make it happen.” That offer enticed him. No one had been this persistent with him yet, he scared off any manager that dared succor him. It was slightly entertaining, the way you burned ambition in your eyes, you were so easy to read. Most people wouldn’t look directly at him, and here you were, ready to follow him home if that’s what it took. He chuckled, and his massive hand reached for yours.

You shook hands, and your fates were sealed.

That was a year ago, and ever since then he’s been a thorn in your side. Nonstop drama and rectifying consumed your life. You didn’t think a man who spoke so little in public could talk so much around you. Whenever you argue—which is a frequent occurrence—his smirk grew wider at your frustration. You weren’t sure why you ever liked him in the first place. He only puts in effort when it comes to sparring, but you’re determined to ameliorate his standing, and in turn, yours.

The minute you open the doors to the hall, the sound of pummeled sandbags, clanking metal, and sneakers skidding across the floor roars in your ears. Some men are dialed in on abusing the inanimate objects, the rest tense through repetitions of dumbbell curls with a hiss. You're in quick strides, the phone arm's length away from you as the sponsor on the other end screams. Another petty drama surrounding Wriothesley grabs the attention of the internet. Luckily, you have thorough experience remedying this.

“What are you going to do? You’re fucking with my money!” you hear the faint voice. You bring the phone back to your ear.

“Don’t I always deal with it? He fights, I make up for the other half. Give me a few hours.”

“I’m not going to wa-” You hang up at the response.

You propel the double doors free into a large room with a boxing ring in the center. A group of trainers swarm the perimeter, you can barely see through.

“Don’t be scared!” one of them taunt towards the sparring partner, who has an unthinkable panic creeping in goosebumps dotting his skin. Each sloppy dodge tilts him more and more off balance against the strikes. Wriothesley has a powerful stature, with his back curving in a way that accentuates the rough muscle shaping his spine. You drone an annoyed sigh at the commotion and push yourself through them.

“Move it, move!” you yell, before jostling your way to the front of the ring.

“Wriothesley! Times up.” He turns his head to the side, unintentionally sparing his partner and glares at you.

“Two minutes.”

“No. Now.” you command. He looks up at nothing, as if considering his options if he cusses you out. Then he begrudgingly drops the gloves and pulls himself under the ropes. The group disperses from the lack of action and he’s mere inches from you now. Sometimes you forget how to breathe in his half-naked presence.

“What the fuck is your problem?” He mumbles while drying his head with a towel. His colossal forearms are raised over his head, highlighting the happy trail thick down his abdomen and tufts of hair on his armpits.

“You. How many times do I have to tell you not to train during recovery?” you seethe.

“Damn. Must’ve slipped my mind.” He doesn’t sound convincing in the slightest.

“Well then, I’ll be sure to remind you hourly.”

“Nah, I’m good. Hearing you once a day is enough.” He tosses the towel to you like his dutiful servant and grabs his water bottle. The liquid drips down his chin and on his shorts, hanging below his v-line.

Your eyebrow twitches from withheld vexation. “If you don’t want to hear me twice, I suggest you do what I tell you. We need to talk.” A heavy sigh leaves him as he stretches, and he passes you the water bottle. If you had the strength to collapse the bottle with one hand, you would. “Lead the way” he goads.

Wriothesley follows you through the backdoor of the gym to a secluded alleyway. When you get there, he immediately pulls out a cigarette you didn’t know he had. You were aware he smokes occasionally, but seeing it physically coaxed a strange worry in your gut. You twist your phone to him, to display evidence of him instigating an argument with Childe on social media. He reads in silence, briefly laughing at the recollection of his own comebacks, then lights the cigarette.

“What’s this? Didn’t I say keep a low profile?” you reprimand.

He drags in a deep breath of nicotine, and you eye the foul scent with distaste. He blows it above your unhappy face. “Calm down. Once a month thing. That fucker's testing me.”

“This can’t happen again, Wriothesley.” He ignores you to continue his mumbling. “I should break his neck like a twig. He’s lucky he didn’t say that shit to my face, fucking punk.” he grouses. You're struggling to gather your thoughts, the cigarette compacted between his thick fingers irritates you.

“We all appreciate your restraint, however-” you get closer, and yank the stick out his hand.

“No-!” Before he can finish, you promptly smudge it underneath your shoe. You aren’t sure how he’d react, but you didn’t expect him to sulk like a puppy.

“You aren’t doing this shit while I’m here.”

“Oh my god” he pouts, throwing his hands into his face and pulling them down.

“You’re lucky I don’t report it to the doctor. None of this, ever again.”

“Fuck, alright just...” he lets out a defeated sigh. “What do you want me to do about it? Apologize publicly?” You need him to do nothing; neither agency wants controversy, and it’d most likely be swept under the rug in just a couple days. You point his water bottle to him.

“Nope, I’ll handle it. Just sit there and be pretty.” you reassure. He leans down to your height with a sweet smile and even sweeter gaze.

“I do that well, don’t I?” he quips.

“You manage.” He latches onto the water bottle, and drinks from it in your hand while looking at you. A soft heat envelops you beyond words that never reach your lips.

“Listen to what I’m saying. Low. Profile.” Wriothesley comes up from thirst, dragging his tongue along the straw to the top, and licks his blushed lips. He delights in your flustered reaction.

“Low. Profile.” he repeats in a sarcastic drawl.

Later in the week, you receive a call in your office. It was fairly busy today, with coworkers constantly “checking in”, more so to see Wriothesley sitting across from you. He had no reason to be here, and you were surprised at his arrival. Be it boredom or a certain longing, a dull swell pulsed in his chest once he saw your overworked smile.

“Hello, this is (Y/N) of Boxe Association. May I know who I’m speaking with?” Wriothesley’s ears perk up at your sudden professionalism, and he mimics your cadence.

“Good afternoon, it’s Isadora.” Isadora was an event coordinator you previously worked with before your controversy. You understood that she stopped communicating to protect her business, but the pain lingered. You twirl the phone cord around your fingers, and meet eyes with Wriothesley, who’s laid back in the chair, his arms behind his head.

“Oh. Hey, it’s been a while.” you say. You turn your swivel chair away from him to continue the conversation. His eyebrow twitches slightly with an unconscious scowl, and he walks towards your chair.

“It has. I’m calling because I have a proposition that might interest you. I believe a meet and greet would be appropriate for your client. A large chunk of his fanbase are young adult women, however, he’s also popular with children.” He spins the chair around with a firm hand and presses his cheek against the phone.

“That’s true.” You side eye him, and without skipping a beat, mush his nosey face away. His hot breath on your digits makes your skin tingle.

“Who is that” he mumbles. You'd never seen Wriothesley interact with children, and you have every reason to be hesitant.

“Hmm...any positive activity with children is good publicity. I’ll consider it. I’ll let you know by tonight.” The second you hang up, you release his face.

“Why are you being annoying-”

“Who were you talking to” he chides.

“Isadora. She’s an event coordinator.” His clenched jaw unwinds. “She wants to do a meet and greet with you and a few kids. If we go through with this, I’ll have a camera crew and some reporters there. It’ll be good for your image.”

“Okay.” he agrees. That was quick.

“...Are you sure? Kids are loud and obnoxious a lot of the time.”

“So? Fine by me. I can teach them how to fight.” Your skin crawls at the thought of Wriothesley launching a child through a wall. “That won’t be necessary.”

“It’ll be fun.” The more he assures you, the more uneasy you feel.

“Wriothesley, I’m serious. Don’t screw this up” you plead. He holds his pinky out. “I won't.” His loose interpretation of promises was dubious at best, but you had no other options, and this might be your only opening. You curl to his word.

After parleying the finer details, you broadcast a raffle for young fans to meet Wriothesley. The traffic to the website was overwhelming, and you quickly began sorting out tickets for the favored winners.

Fortunately, the next couple of weeks were par for the course.

It’s the night before the event, and you’re getting ready for bed. You sit at your desk in a big T-shirt and do your daily review of personal data. As you're scrolling through and identifying what needs improvement, you get a notification on your phone.

“Breaking News: Boxer Bar Fight!” Curious, you open the tab to a video. It makes your breath stall, sweating frantically. You can’t think clearly, and your shaky hands can barely increase the volume. Unidentifiable noises and wobbly camerawork made it impossible to catch anything besides those familiar inky black strands, throwing punches in a drunken stupor at a defenseless man. Your previous conundrum flashes through your memory in a horrific stop-motion; the duping smile on his face.

No. It’s happening all over again. Why is he at a bar? You messaged him before he went to bed. He never goes to bars. Why now, the night before the event? It’s late, he doesn’t go anywhere without telling you.

He promised.

None of it made sense as you threw on any sweatpants in your drawer and ran out the door. You can’t wait until morning. Disaster punctures and tears any rational decision you contemplate. Shouting silently within your mind, a crashing rage—or sadness—boils in your nervous stomach. You’re tunnel vision in a taxi on the way to his address.

When you get there, you bang on the door with a fury that vibrates throughout the archway. His home is extravagant, with two cars and an expansive driveway. You bang again.

“Wriothesley!” He finally opens the door. He’s still half asleep, pajama pants low on his waist, groggily leaning against the arch.

“(Y/N)? Uh, what’s up?” He slurs in a deep slumbering voice through heavy eyelids. You barge in without saying anything. “Make yourself at home, I guess.”

The interior is just as opulent as the exterior, it almost looks untouched. Every corner has a case or shelf stacked with ornate trophies and medals of excellence. It was the home of someone who achieved peak perfection and reveled in it. He follows you to his living room, bewildered at your furious expression. You play the video in front of him, and he watches with that same puzzled attitude that makes you angrier. You try taking deep breaths to compose yourself, but they halt shallowly.

“What the fuck is this?” you accuse.

“What? I don’t know.” “Like hell you don’t know, this shit is on every homepage. Are you serious?”

The cranky boxer pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. You show up at his house, and it’s to badger him about a rumor. Your temperament only heats the smoldering ember fueled by incessant claims. He covers his mouth, physically stopping the involuntary response.

“Okay” he says, and blurts a facetious chuckle. Your heart thumps in your chest and ears.

“Oh, It’s a fucking joke? I bust my ass to save your career and you’re laughing?” you snap, voice increasing in volume until it reaches a broken peak. He returns with the same energy.

“When did I ask you to fix anything? Did you ever think that maybe I don’t fucking need you-”

“You can barely control your smoking habits you pompous ass-”

“I would if you didn’t nag me all the time. Whining and complaining, it’s fucking annoying!” he yells. Neither of you meant the words spilling out the bubbling surface, but your tongues were solely seasoned with the next spiteful jab.

“Yes, whining! Because all you need to do is be on the straight and narrow, but you take nothing seriously, Wriothesley, and that’s exactly why-”

“Exactly why what? Why your career went to shit so you’re piggybacking off mine?”

Your battle stops. You can’t find the words to rebuttal. All the opinions of your colleagues, the media, Wriothesley, and yourself coagulate into a lump that fills the tightening throat. Pride comforts tears brimming your eyes.

He pauses, as though he came to reality. An apology attempts to form on his lips, but it never manifests. “(Y/N), I didn’t-”

“See you in the morning” you choked. You walk to the door, and he reaches out to the infinite space thick between you two.

You didn’t sleep the entire night. It’s morning, and you’re exhausted. You consistently replayed the quarrel in your head through the taxi ride home, and when you strived for rest, it plagued your mind. Your coffee is untouched during your morning routine, a movement comparable to zombies. You don’t bother to confirm if Wriothesely is at the building—either way you owe it to the event holders to be there.

You arrive just before the children file into the training room. Thankfully, Wriothesley is there in the center. Live cameras from reporters and parents border the walls; if something were to occur, it would be irreversible. Your head suddenly hurts.

Perhaps playing it up for his reputation, the smile stretched across his face is a sunny warmth you’ve never seen from him. He waves to them, and they erupt with screams. To your astonishment, he gets on his knees to be eye level with them. They all jump into his arms at once, and he topples over onto the mat.

And he’s laughing. This grumpy asshole fighter is laughing. A hearty, genuine laugh as he wraps his sturdy arms around all of them and picks them up at once. He whirls them around and they orchestrate high-pitched giggles. “Ready to have some fun?” he chortles. They say yes to varying degrees of excitement, and the meet and greet proceeds.

You can’t help but smile when he frolics with the kids. They chase him with boxing gloves, he pretends to fall dramatically. Dogpiling him, he lets out a shrill scream of defeat. He manages to work in proper defense techniques while they jump him like a test dummy. He tosses each kid in the air whenever they ask, and never tells them no. You receive another call from Isadora amid your admiration, and you step outside.

“Hey! Good news, these views are off the charts and the internet is really in his favor right now” she congratulates.

“That’s great...what about the video from last night? Did you see it?” you ask.

“Video...oh, that! Don’t worry, it’s confirmed fake.” What? Oh no. Immediate regret stirs in your blood, and you force the phone away to catch your breath. You feel utterly stupid.

“Hello?” You quickly bring the phone back to your ear. “Yea, sorry. I have to go; I’ll call you later.” you insist. You can’t facepalm any harder. You make your way back to the training room, where the kids decorate his gloves with iridescent stickers. Wriothesley occasionally looks at you, but you can’t bear to show your guilty face.

When the event is over, you both make sure to hug every child on the way out and thank the parent for coming. You’re sorting through mountains of requests people made to see Wriothesley again, and you mute your phone over the influx of emails. Peeking at the broadcast, under the footage in bold letters:

“(Y/N) Back from the Dead?”

It wasn’t the most flattering title, but it proved that public perception was salvageable. You emit a sigh of relief, for you and Wriothesley. As you’re packing your things to exit, he blocks the door with his body.

“Can we talk?” You were dreading this discussion, but agreed, nonetheless. The ride to his home is silent, you grapple with a proper apology.

You lean against the kitchen bar, while he’s laxing on the couch. Sleep deprivation torments you, causes you to wander as you fill in papers from sponsors. You can’t see the way Wriothesley steals glances at your slack figure curving to the marble. He eventually spoke.

“So, um.”

“I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you. You did a good job today Wriothesley, you should be proud.” You flash a meek smile. He fumbles with his thumbs uncomfortably.

“I am. Aren’t I the best?” he boasts.

“You are” you say. The lack of sleep beckons you to a spur of honesty as you scribble. “You have stunning form, perfect accuracy, and immeasurable talent. Not just anyone can do that.” you return. He gazes at you, that dull swell pumping in his veins again. The cozy radiance of lights brightens your tired eyes.

“You’re a big fan, huh?” he chuckles.

“Of course, I used to watch you in college. I had a major crush on you” you snort. “Everything you are is amazing, but you know this. So cut it out.” He sits on the armrest, swallowing your confessions. The room is entirely too hot, he needs alleviation—he needs you.

“Sorry. For what I said.”

“Forget it. It's my fault, I was careless. I apologize.” you admit.

“You know I didn’t do it, right?”

“I know.”

“I didn’t.”

“I know.” you reassure.

“What if some other bullshit controversy comes out. Then what?” You stop writing to give him your full attention.

“Then, I’ll trust you. We’ve gotten this far. Even if no one else does, even if for some reason I lose my job and I’m not your manager anymore, I’ll trust you, Wriothesley.” you reveal. He doesn’t move. Wriothesley knew he wasn’t deserving of trust, and he’d made a plethora of mistakes throughout your arrangement. You had every right to leave him long ago. Nobody gave him the time of day or cared for his wellbeing like you did, but he couldn’t reciprocate. Even so, here he kneels, at the feet of an angel that shows him undying mercy.

Wriothesley stalks at you, but you remain. He looms over you, pinning you to the counter with both arms, inches from your face. It isn’t a threatening force, but one that begs for confirmation. That slated storm searches for a specific craving, you feel his chest rising and falling laden with yours.

“You’re too close” you quiver. The bitter musk and vanilla enveloping your senses makes you foggy, it lingers through the whole house.

“Tell me to leave.” His mouth slants to you, and he waits expectingly. You ogle his features, the scratches of a warrior celebrated across his hardy torso. His hair brushes against your forehead, imperfect and uniquely beautiful. Why were you mad, again?

“Tell me to back off, (Y/N)” he pleads. The pads of your fingers lightly caress his ear, then his jaw.

“Please” he whispers. Your thumb grazes his bottom lip, and he succumbs to the urge.

You collide fervently, lips coated in definitive desire. Dancing with rough, bruising kisses that don’t make space for air. It smears on your face, dips down your neck and swiftly returns to your lonely mouth. The pressure of the counter bar burns across your lower back from his weight, but those mind-numbing kisses soften any injury. You bite his lip when he pulls away, and he groans. Suddenly, he lifts you effortlessly with his hands on your ass, and you clash teeth and tongue in a passionate challenge. He demands entry, and you moan into the wet mass intertwining through sloppy kisses. It explores your mouth, sending throbs to your nerves and subdues any control you have left. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, but you yearn for deeper contact. He licks up the organ, and spots moist, hungry kisses on your jaw. You both take a fleeting breath before converging again. You find passage in his hair and suck staining rose-colored marks on his neck while he carries you to the bedroom.

“You’ve been waiting for this, hm? Slutty groupie” Wriothesley moans. You drag kisses along the shell of his ear. He tosses you onto the fluffy bedding and haphazardly strips to his underwear. The wide mirror opposite his bed gives you a glimpse of his thighs and shapely bottom hugging the briefs. You’re supposed to be undressing, but that thronging bulge made for a titan makes you nervous for what’s to come. He palms the erection to soothe the ache and climbs over you. He’s somewhat gentle, careful with the bulk of his body as he cradles your face for more kisses. The way he looks at you, a covet softness or misted lust tantalizing the wetness pooling in your panties. He moves to your neck, French kissing down your throat and on your collarbone. You feel like a virgin again, heart racing from every graze of his fingers and lips. His calloused digits grope the plush fat of your thighs, and gradually reach the hem of your skirt. You snake your hands over his pecs and abs and read the muscles. Moaning into each other's mouths, indulging every part of your bodies as you’ve wanted to do for months. He pulls your skirt off and you hold your button-down over your exposed panties. Heat spreads in your body, and he amuses at your sudden bashfulness.

“Oh…you’re shy?” he teases, before popping the buttons off with a brutal rip. “Wrio!” you yelp. That’s the first time you called Wriothesley a nickname; he must’ve died and went to heaven. The lace gift wrapped around your breasts taunts him, and he buries his face immediately. He nips the sensitive skin and snaps the clasp off. “Cute. Need to feel you” he husks. He twirls the bud in his mouth, while manipulating the other between his girthy fingers. Alternating among loving hickies and harsh tugs of his teeth on your nipple. You whine, and his laugh tickles your raw skin. He flips over on his back and steadies you on top of him. Discards the rest of your top, and let’s out a shaky groan.

“You’ve never been this speechless” he says. You smile and kiss his puffy lips, your hands kneading his chest. “You’re so pretty” you coo. He huffs while rubbing circles on your waist, eyeing your inner thighs covered in juices.

“Then come fuck my pretty face.” He slips under the waistband and tweaks the fabric, but you grip his wrists. “Wait! Let me shower first- “

“You said you'd give me anything I desire, remember that? Keep your promise." He yanks the thin material down your legs in your weak clutches, trailing a string of drool that sticks to your labia. “C’mere” he grunts and lifts you towards his face. Your thighs are soft on either side of him, and you still in his grasp. He lolls his tongue out, but you’re reluctant to fully sit. “I’m heavy” you murmur.

“Shut up.” He embraces your body, and you have no choice but to settle in his warmth. He keeps you flush with his flat tongue, swiping up and down the squishy flesh molding to his mouth. You writhe in his grasp, but he continues to lap at your clit with a starving lust. Wriothesely soaks in your velvet skin and perfumed essence dribbling down his chin. He doesn’t come up for air, and your brain is mush over him, his lips slurping your quivering cunt. A buzzing intensity courses through your twitching stomach. You rut your hips against his mouth, and he maintains his position while you use him. You’re grinding on his tongue, absent-mindedly biting your lips and mewling endlessly as you bring yourself closer to climax. He hums while sucking the nub and the vibrations make you cry out.

“Wrio, ‘m coming” you whine. You hump his mouth until you come undone in a pulsating finish. His hands restrain you, greedily devouring the newly found honey as it pours out. You ride it through while he curls the tip of his tongue at your opening. Without warning, you feel the pink muscle push in your recovering vulva. “S-Shit, Wrio” you whimper, trembling on him as he drives inside. He seizes the back of your thighs and begins to bounce you up and down the mushy appendage slowly stretching you. The sensation is overwhelming, his nose skims your oversensitive clit each time you drop, and you sob. Wriothesley moves faster, your hands entangle in his hair. You babble please’s repeatedly, gazing sensually at each other as the coil winds in your gut. More, more. Then it snaps, an abrupt shock, clenching on his tongue as you cream. He raises your lower half; the wetness collecting in your convulsing heat makes his cock strain more than it already suffered.

“Such a cute slut” Wriothesley husks. Your numb legs can’t navigate on their own, so he places you on your stomach. “We’re not done.” He springs his throbbing length free. The veins are consistent, prominent up his shaft to the angry red crown—9 inches begging to be inside you. Fresh precome trickles down his tip and he sighs at the bloated pain in his hefty balls. You arch your back, presenting yourself to his awaiting size. When he doesn’t enter you turn to him impatiently and he smirks.

“Put it in” you whine. Wriothesley spreads your backside, and watches you clench around the ghost of him. He glazes himself with your slick, and moans from the feeling of your puffy lips cuddling his cock. “It’s not every day a fan gets to sleep with me. Be grateful.” he teases. He pumps through your squashed thighs, the head prodding your nub while he forces your chest flush with the bed. After he thoroughly coats himself, he nudges the bulbous tip to your entrance.

Wriothesley sinks into your sex. You’re gripping him like a vice despite the searing soreness of your body accommodating the scale. The fevered sleeve nearly makes him crash to the hilt, but he stutters gradually to relieve your discomfort. He hits the base and shudders. You feel unbelievably stuffed, as if it’s squirming in your cervix. Then he starts at a savage pace. He’s using you like a flesh-light, balls smacking your overwhelmed tender nub with a carnal impulse. His moans spill uncontrollably as he watches your rippling ass and viscous webs blend together, clinging to his cock and forming a cloudy froth at the base. Your knuckles turn white on the sheets; you can’t think or feel anything that isn’t him, core surging with intense want.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, gonna snap my dick off. Ah- gonna make sure you can’t walk t-tomorrow. Then- hah- then you won’t be able to find anyone who fucks you like this, who makes you come like this.” He’s rambling and stuttering, completely incoherent the closer he gets. He glances at the mirror, then at you. You feel your hair jerked back by his massive hand, and lock eyes with Wriothesley in his drunken haze. “Stop, it’s embarrassing!” you slur. You’re both sheened with sweat, disheveled bodies satiating the hunger in any way you can.

“Shh, you hear that?” The squelching slam of passion echoes in the room, sopping down your leg through his pummeling thrusts. Your back bends unnaturally as though it were folded in half. “You’re so fucking hot, so needy for me.” His veins adorn your walls, you start to tear up from the mixture of pleasure and pain. He notices your tears and holds you up so that your back is flush with his chest.

“It hurts?” he questions, stalling his movement. You feel him twitch. “No, feels s’good Wrio. More” you mewl. He chuckles, and gently wraps his hand around your throat before pumping again.

“Too good? Am I the best you’ve ever had? Say it.” He moves faster, free hand rubbing your clit. Your knees buckle and eyes roll back to your skull, he takes in the scene of your convulsing figure in the mirror. “S’best I’ve ever had, please ‘m so close!” you rasp, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. He chases his high, panting animalistically in your ear.

“Shit- look how desperate you are. Want me to come inside? Y-yea, I bet you fucking do”

“‘M coming!” you babble.

“Good. Make a mess.” he commands. Fire trails up your limbs, and you tighten before falling apart. Fluttering around him, taking him deeper while you come on his sack. Wriothesley pursues his sputtering hips, spurting thick globs that paint you white. He whimpers as you milk his spasming length dry and presses tired kisses along your shoulder blade. When he comes down from his apex, he turns you over on your back. It’s hard for him to not be proud of your boneless existence sprawled on his bed. You’re both breathing hard in silence, and he leaves for a couple minutes. You’re stunned when he returns with a damp rag to clean you up, and some dark substance in a mug.

You find the strength to sit up while he wipes your lower areas. “Where are my clothes?”

“...For what?” he mumbles.

“To leave?” It seemed like common sense to you—boxers usually don’t go for long-term relationships, and so you assumed it to be a one-night stand. You dip over the edge of the bed and locate your skirt, but Wriothesely hops up and snatches it before you can. “I’ll put it in the wash. Relax.”

“I didn’t know you were so hospitable. Do you do this for every girl?” you tease. He gets visibly upset, and shoves the cup from the dresser in your hands. “Don’t piss me off. Now, drink. I’ll order food.”

Multicolored sunset flaking through the sheer curtains frames his stature while he’s on the phone. You sip the tea, it’s a vile grainy taste. For a moment you imagine what life could be like with him by your side—poor quality tea and an awful temper. In your pleasant aftermath, it doesn’t seem bad at all.

#genshin smut #genshin au #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley headcanons #wriothesley #fontaine #genshin x reader #genshin impact

4K notes · View notes

luveline · 13 days

Note

more hotch with teacher!reader? maybe she’s trying to take a bunch of things into her classroom one morning and hotch jumps in to help (and flirt with) them :)) i adore you’re writing thank you for sharing sm with us lately!!!

you’re so welcome ily ty for requesting! <3 fem, 1k

Today, you and your class are going to make dioramas with a heavy focus on paper crafting. For the last few days, you’ve helped them make plans on what they want to create, and then you scoured the internet for origami and craft tutorials to suit. The only one you couldn’t find was for poor Jamie’s tractors. You’ll figure it out, you’re sure.

You’ve been saving cardboard boxes, toilet roll inserts, and egg cartons for months. There’s a total mountain of things to bring in, so you’re here early. You figure if you carry huge armfuls, you can get everything inside in three trips.

“Oh,” you say, as a cardboard box tumbles to the ground, and somehow doesn’t give you a clearer view, “whoops. I’ll pick that up. Jeez.”

You step over it and almost slip.

“Careful,” someone says.

You jump and send an egg carton skittering across the floor. “Oh, gosh! You scared me!” You twist your head, the cardboard that had been resting on your face falling down into your collar. “Oh, Mr. Hotchner.”

Of course it’s Mr. Hotchner. Aaron, predictably.

“Aaron,” he says, leaning down to grab the things you’ve dropped, before he opens his arm toward you. You lean away from your tower, embarrassed but relieved when he takes the bulk of your tall tower from you.

“Thank you, Aaron. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here so early. Is everything okay?”

“Let me help you with this.”

Avoiding the question. You and Aaron carry your cardboard inside to the classroom, where you unlock your door (and you never would’ve been able to do without his rescue). He follows you to the arts and crafts table toward the back of the room, and you deposit your stock.

“Thank you,” you say when he places his armful down.

“It’s no problem. Can I help with the rest?”

“Would you, please?” you ask. “It seemed a lot less before today.”

You bring the rest back in. He’s the picture of a perfect gentleman and carries more than you each time, which isn’t to say you can’t have carried the same as he did, but it’s nice for once to be the one looked after. As a teacher, you get used to giving.

He doesn’t make you ask him twice. “I’m here early because I wanted to talk with you if you’re free, before I head into the office.”

“His Aunt is bringing him today?” you ask about Jack.

“I didn’t manage to get home in time last night to see him, but I’ll be here at pick up time.”

You nod, hyper aware that you’d swayed the conversation again. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“It’s about Jack. Well, it’s mostly about me. I’d like to ask you for a favour, if you’re willing.”

“Oh, sure. Of course.”

“You haven’t heard it yet.”

You flush under the weight of his knowing smile. “No, I mean, I’m sure it’ll be fine. So…”

“It’s hard sometimes to get Jack to tell me what you’re doing in school. I had no idea he’d be making dioramas today. And I don’t need your lesson plans, I’d never expect that of you, but I was hoping you could summarise the week for me on Fridays? Or whenever you can. I don’t need updates on how Jack is progressing, it could be a couple of words on the topics you’ve chosen, just so I know what he’s doing while I’m away.”

You’ve never been asked to do it. Parents of kids in the second grade aren’t usually clocked in on what their kids are learning. School is still half fun at this age, your most important job is to make sure they can all read with acceptable fluency. And it’s hard because their parents don’t help, but it’s fine. You love teaching them something so important, and you’re ecstatic to meet someone who’s actually interested.

You beam. “Yeah, of course I can. I can do that, I don’t mind. Nobody ever wants to know what we’re doing, which is such a shame! I mean, they’re so excited and of course their parents care, but if they have just a little bit of support it makes a huge difference. I can totally send you my lesson plans, Aaron. I’d like to.” You laugh to yourself smugly. “I never get to show them off. They’re extensive. And they take ages.”

“You want to show them off?” he asks softly.

His voice is velveteen.

“Is that awful?” you ask.

“No, it makes sense. You really don’t have to if it’s too much trouble, but I… feel guilty, when I call him and ask how school was, and he can’t remember what happened.”

“Don’t feel bad about that. The kids can’t remember what I told them ten minutes ago.”

He isn’t like you, in that he’s very still. He doesn’t move or fidget, which makes his looking at you all the more obvious. “Thank you,” he says.

“You’re welcome.”

“Can I pay you back?”

You catch one of your bracelets and twist it around your wrist.

Aaron told you without hesitation that he profiles criminals. He can read their expressions, habits, and idiosyncrasies as thoughts and feelings. He can trace movement to the source. You’re positive he wouldn’t keep asking you such leading questions, or insist you call him by his first name every time you see him, if he didn’t already know that you find him attractive.

“How would you do that?” you ask.

“Is there anything else you… need help with?”

A million things, but you’re no idiot. You can read subtlety too.

“Well, I have a bunch of textbooks on the top shelf in the stockroom you could help me with.” You smile shyly. “It gets hot in there, though.”

He begins taking off his suit jacket. “That,” he says, his gaze on you with all the tenderness and amusement of someone who’s known you longer, “won’t be a problem.”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

987 notes · View notes

hwasoup · 4 months

Text

Tale As Old As Time

Playlist !!

songs to listen along with: the beast, etc..

art credit goes to Marbipa

OMG guys, I literally hat to let this one sit and marinate for a while even though I typed it out like so long ago. AND I JUST REALIZED I FORGOT TO ADD THE SONGS FOR LAST CHAPTER, DW I DID THOUGH. Ugh and I literally also just found out that i had a textbook for a class, i didn't deep dive into the syllabus. AHHHHH regardless I hope you guys enjoyyy !! our favorite characters have finally met!!

like always tell me if you’d like to be tagged !!

prev | ch.4

warnings: wrongful incarceration, bargaining, yelling, really bad british slang, mexican spanish (im sorry y’all im venezuelan ☠️)

word count: 3.3k

Chapter 3: The Beast

After going through the thick woods, trusting Felipe to take her to where she needs to go…

Y/N makes it deep and far in the woods and stops Felipe from galloping when she spots her father’s wagon. She looks at all of the scattered food, items, and even his invention. In worry, she clutches on Felipe’s reins tightly and directs him to keep on going. After riding Felipe some time, the air gets thicker and fog covers the entirety of the forest. She then notices Felipe starting to trot and make his way down a gravel path. She looks around the dead trees and notices the large gates and the grand castle in front of her. “What is this place…” she says nervously. Felipe then starts nickering and anxiously moving as he didn’t want to go inside the gates. Y/N had to get off to comfort the horse and calm him down. After a few moments, she turns around and peeks inside the gate to see her father’s hat. She opens them and she reaches for the hat and holds it tightly in her hands, her worry now increasing for him. “Come on Felipe, we have to go inside”

She mounts the horse once more and goes inside the gate, going through the garden until she makes it to the steps of the castle. Y/N then gets off Felipe and carefully goes up the stairs, grabbing a large stick from the stairs as a weapon incase if she needs to defend herself. She then makes it to the top and carefully opens the door. Peering inside she walks in hesitantly, as she looks around.

“Look Jess…it's a pretty girl”

“I can see that Miles, I lost my hands.. Not my eyes”

Miles then peeks at Jess and whispers “but what if she’s the one who’ll break the spell ?” Y/N turns around confused at the sound of whispering “Who said that ?” She looks around to see nobody except for a candelabra and a clock. She quietly approaches the two of them looking at the inanimate figures confused at what she heard. Her thoughts however were shunned as she could hear her father’s cough from a distance. In her desperateness to find him, she takes the candelabra and goes to look for him. Jess looks at Miles being taken and she simply sighs.

Y/N follows the sound of coughing to a set of stairs, as she gets closer she then peers into a hall that goes up a tower. She anxiously walks up the stairs as she yells out “PAPA ??” She walks up the stairs faster as the coughing gets louder “ERES TU PAPA ??” Y/N then gets to the top of the tower and gasps seeing her beloved father inside a dungeon. She throws the stick to one side and places the candelabra on a nearby shelf and places it there. Y/N then gets on her knees as she looks at her father in relief after searching for him “Oh papa, que paso?? what happened to you, your hands are ice cold..” she says holding him tightly through the metal bars. Mauricio looks at her in awe and simply says “how did you even find me ?”

“That doesn’t matter, we need to get you home !”

“Y/N please…listen to me it’s not safe here, you must leave at once! This castle is alive !” he says in a whisper, tightly holding onto Y/N’s hands. Y/N looked at him confused until she heard a deep growl echoing in the distance. She grabs her stick once more from the floor and looks around the dungeon. She firmly grips onto the piece of thick wood, as she gains the courage to look around and protect herself and her father. “Who’s there, WHO ARE YOU ?”

“Who Are YOU?”

The voice of a man echoes throughout the dungeon, his silhouette appearing in the distance. “I’ve come for my father..” Y/N says with determination in her voice. The sound of someone coming down the stairs is heard in the dark dungeon. “Your Father….is a thief”. Enraged, Y/N yelled out “LIAR!” The silhouette has now fully come down the stairs and standing before her, his silhouette still only seen “He stole a rose..” Y/N raises an eyebrow appalled at his words “I asked for the rose, punish me not him !” Mauricio looks at his daughter and shakes his head “No, Y/N don’t… he means forever, apparently that’s what happens around here cuando uno elige una bendita rosa”

Y/N even more appalled turned to her father and back to the silhouette “A life sentence for a flower ?” A loud roar is heard as it approaches her even more, she steps back a little but not entirely to stand her ground despite the small shivers down her leg. “I received eternal damnation for one” the figure said, the growl in his voice becoming deeper. “Then take me instead” The figure growls and looks away and angrily says “YOU-” his expression then softly changes as he was shocked at how willing she was. “Tú....Tú tomarías su lugar?”

Y/N bites her lip and nods a whimper coming from her lips releases in her voice “If I did…would you let him go ?” The silhouette’s voice became a bit softer but still gruff in its dominant position “Yes, but you must promise to stay here forever” he says. Y/N looks down and blinks thinking of what to do next, she notices there’s a light right between them, separating the two from fully seeing each other. “Come into the light” she demands. The silhouette becomes smaller as she starts to see two large paws, she then looks up to see not a man but a beast with the horns of a goat, a thick mane that covered his entire body and crimson red eyes that peered into hers. Y/N covers her mouth in shock and turns to her father dropping the stick yet again to hold his hands. “No, Y/N to te puedo permitir que hagas esto”

Y/N kisses her father’s hands and approaches the Beast, her voice faltering to a whisper “you have my word..” The Beast then growls and opens the door dragging Mauricio out and pushing Y/N in, not even letting the two share a proper departure. He then drags Mauricio all the way out of the castle and throws him inside a carriage “Take him to the village” Mauricio cries out to him “SPARE MY DAUGHTER PLEASE!” The Beast ignores him and growls as he closes the carriage door “She’s no longer your concern…” Mauricio cries out to him to let him out, but The Beast was already walking back inside his castle.

After a moment, The Beast is seen walking back inside the castle on all fours with an annoyed expression on his face. Miles had already hopped down halfway to meet him. “So, Uh Sir ?”

“WHAT” the Beast growled out. Miles cowered a bit but then adjusted himself “soo uh since the girl is going to stay with us for quite some time, erm umm” he rubs his other two candles together “I was thinking that y’know you wanted too uhh, bring her to a more comfortable room” he says with a sheepish smile. The Beast growls at him and keeps walking up the stairs ignoring what he said. “Or not” Miles says.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Up in the tower after a week ….

Y/N wept as she whispered comforting words to herself. She thought about all of those times with her father, how he told her that home is where the heart is. But she wasn’t home, she was lonely and locked away. Her face drained as she thought of making the tiny dungeon her home, tears kept on spilling out as she thought about her poor father, all alone with nobody to lean onto in her terrible village.

She then sees a shadow loom over her and notices its The Beast. “You didn’t even let me say goodbye..I’ll never see him again..” her tears taint her cheeks that have been stained from the grime of the dungeon. “I-I’l never..see h-him again..” she says in between sobs. The Beast then looks at Y/N and a bit of guilt plagues his mind. He scratches his head and then considers what Miles told him earlier.. “I’ll show you to your room..” he says softly as he walks out the dungeon.

“My room? But I thought -”

“You, YOU wanna stay in the tower ?”

“No..” she says softly.

“Then follow me..” The Beast says.

The Beast then guides her out of the tower and back into the castle, taking Miles with him along the way so that he could light up the hallways. As Y/N is escorted, she looks around the castle and its statues and notices how dark and lonely the place seemed to be. Her eyes stare fearfully at a statue of a hideous gargoyle and speeds up to catch up with The Beast.

The Beast heard her gasp and looked behind to see a single tear falling down her cheek, he looked back in his direction as he felt a bit more guiltier. “You should say something to her y’know” Miles says softly. The Beast nodded and turned to her “I..uhh…I hope you like it here” he looked back at Miles to see if it was ok. Miles then looks at him encouraging him to say a bit more. “The castle is your home now, so you can go anywhere you would like…except the west wing.” Y/N’s curiosity perks up and she asks “what’s in the west wing ?” He growled out “IT'S FORBIDDEN”. His voice echoed out into the empty halls of the castle. He then takes her to a suite and opens the door for her. “If you need anything…my servants will attend you.” Y/N walks in and looks around the room. She then turns back to him and softly asks “but what’s your name ?” The Beast looks down as he didn’t want to remember his name, as he isn’t human or anything similar to his name. “It’s Miguel..”

Y/N nods as she looks back to the room and looks around. Miles then in a corner of Miguel’s viewpoint whispers “dinner, go invite her to dinner” Miguel nods and he tries to find the best way to speak to her “YOU WILL JOIN ME FOR DINNER…Th-THAT”S NOT A REQUEST” he says gruffly as he slammed the door. Y/N in shock of his words looked back at the closed door and back to the room. Spotting the bed she runs towards it and throws herself onto the pillows and cries her heart out. She hasn’t even realized that it has already started snowing outside signifying the start of winter.

About a couple of hours later, There was a soft knocking on the door. Y/N who was too busy crying hears it and softly says “who is it ?” She then hears a man’s voice “Its, Peter” Y/N approaches the door and quietly opens it and peers outside. She didn’t see anyone until she saw a serving cart with a tea pot and a small cup. “Oh wow you’re very pretty ma’am” he says politely with a smile. “I thought you would like a small cup of tea” Y/N backs up surprised at the sight and bumps into the wardrobe. Hearing a voice from the wardrobe she looks at it in shock “ooh, watch it ‘ere mate” Y/N backs up to her bed and sits down surprised. “B-but, this is impossible!”

“I know mate, but ‘ere we are. Oh and the name’s Hobie” Y/N looks around in awe and surprise and just sits, processing the whole situation. The little teacup then spoke, “I told you she was pretty daddy!” Peter chuckles and pours some tea into his daughter “alrighty May, go and hand it to her, gently without spilling” Mayday happily hops to Y/N and waits for her to pick her up. “Why… Thank You” Y/N takes it softly. She then takes a sip of the tea and hums softly, enjoying the taste. “Wanna see me do a trick ??” Mayday then giggles as she breathes in and blows bubbles into the tea. She gets scolded quickly by her father though.

Peter chuckles and looks at Y/N. “Y’know, that took guts kid,” Hobie nods and agrees with him “the whole castle’s buzzin ‘bout it.” Y/N sighs in disappointment “but, I’ve lost my father, my dreams, I’ve lost almost everything..” Peter smiles and gives her a warm smile “aww, don’t worry kid, things always turn out better in the end.” Peter then realizes that he’s still supposed to be in the kitchen “oh crap, i forgot i’m supposed to be helping in the kitchen.. Anyways it was lovely meeting you” he says as the serving table wheels away from her room and leaves.

“Well now, let's get somefink good for youse to get dressed for the old geezer ‘ere.” Hobie then opens his drawers and sees some moths fly out “m’bad dovey” He then pulls out a nice dress for her and says “ ‘ere ya go, somefink pretty for you dovey” Y/N looks at the dress and smiles softly “oh, that’s very kind of you Hobie, but i’m not going to dinner” Hobie then shrugs and puts the dress back inside his drawers “aight then, youse definitely gonna make that geezer more laughable” he says. A small pattern is heard walking inside the room, Jess walked in and took a breath. “Come on honey, dinner’s waiting” she says trying to lighten up the mood.

Down at the dining table however, Miguel is pacing back and forth anxiously waiting for Y/N’s arrival. He then growls annoyed “What’s taking her so long ....I told her to come down…” He then looks at Miles and a smaller candle who’s named Lyla. “aww come on Miguel, you do realize that she’s literally lost her freedom and her dad like last week” Lyla says, stating the obvious. Miles then nods and says “soo uhh, Sir, Haven’t you thought that this girl.. Might be the one who could break the spell ?” MIguel looks up to the two candles “OF COURSE I HAVE..I’M NOT STUPID” Miles then smiles and says “Then you fall in love with her, sheee falls in love with you, and POOF! We’re human! We should be back to normal by midnight !” he says with a confident smile. Peter on the table however, digresses on the situation. “Miles buddy, it's not that easy y’know… these things take time” Miles then frowns and softly says “but, Peter ...the rose is already starting to wilt..”

Miguel then looks down and sits on all fours and grumbles “Oh, it’s no use..” he runs a paw through his large mane “it's just that she’s just so beautiful, and i’m well.. WELL LOOK AT ME” he says with a snarl. Peter then sighs and looks at Miguel “aww come on Miguel, you have to help her see through all of that” Miguel then growls lowly “I don’t know how” he says as his ears flatten to the sides. Lyla then grins and pitches in “then how about a quick lesson on how to be a gentleman 101: Sit up and try to be kind.” Peter smiles and also shares a few thoughts “oh then don’t forget to give her a sweet smile, come one show me one Migs” Miguel then proceeds to give the most toothiest and quite horrible smile, even Lyla had to step back a little out of surprise. “Now don’t scare her, charm her” Peter says. Miles then blurted out “Oh, OH and impress her with your intelligence!” Miguel looks at all four of them trying to absorb the information, his mind whirling at almost everything that he has to do, that just seemed utterly impossible. The quartet continued to bombard him with a whole bunch of manners until they all said at the same time “and the most important of all, CONTROL YOUR TEMPER!!!” Miguel wipes his face from the small bead of sweat that was forming.

Then, the sound of a door is heard opening, Miguel looks up in anticipation but is met with only Jess coming inside. “SO, evening everyone..” she says nervously. Miguel then raises an eyebrow “Well ? where is she ?” Jess takes a deep breath in, just knowing how Miguel is definitely going to react “soo, she’s…yea she’s not coming”

“WHAAAAAAAAAAT ??!!!!”

Outraged, Miguel leaves the dining room and runs as quickly as his legs and hind legs could take him, all the way upstairs and into the east wing. Peter yells out “Nononono, WAIT MIGUEL !”

Miguel manages to outrun them and make it to Y/N’S door and basically smacks it as hard as he could “ I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO COME DOWN FOR DINNER” y/n behind the door responds to him “I’m not coming” she says with a little huff in her voice. Miles, Lyla, Peter, and Jess just facepalm and shake their heads in disappointment. A sigh was even heard from behind Miguel from the huge letdown. “YOU BETTER COME OUT, OR I’M- YO VOY…VOY A ROMPER LA BENDITA PUERTA !”

Miles whistled and just said “so, just a quick suggestion , but uh….that really isn’t the best way to impress a girl..” Jess nods and sighs “Miguel just for once, can you actually just be polite to her?” Miguel gestured to the door “But, she is being so DIFFICULT” Peter then comes beside him and softly says “gently Miguel, you’re spooking her..” Miguel groans and lowers his tone at the door “Will you come down for dinner ?” he closes his eyes hoping that she would say yes to this tone in his voice. “No!” Y/N says.

Miguel’s eyes widened and his ears shot up in surprise and he gave a look pointing to the door as he tried to prove his point to the servants. Miles then says “suavemente y gentilmente…”

Miguel then takes a deep breath and tries again, “It would give me a great pleasure, if you would come out and join me for dinner.” He looks up to the door slightly hoping that she would come out this time…although his temper is starting to boil.

Jess coughs “COUGH- we say please- COUGH”

Miguel rolls his eyes and softly says please

Y/N simply says “NO, THANK YOU !” Everyone watching the interaction watches in shock as they know he’s going to blow.

Miguel then belts out “YOU CAN’T STAY IN THERE FOREVER”.

Y/N on the other side of the door yells out “QUE SI!”

Miguel snarls and roars out “FINE THEN GO STARVE FOR ALL I CARE PINCHE DESGRACIADA”

He looks down to his servants “IF she doesn’t eat with me, then she doesn’t eat at all” Miguel then growls out and runs off away to his room into the west wing. He opens the door annoyed and just grumbles to himself “I ask nicely but she refuses, like que quiere?? que yo hago? BEG ??” In a flurry of rage, he goes to a table where the enchanted rose is encased in a glass dome. Beside it is his magic mirror that was gifted by the enchantress. Miguel then grabs his magic mirror and looks into it “ensename la niña”

The mirror then glows a greenish blue color and shows him y/n sitting in bed being comforted by Hobie. “Aww come on Dovie, the old bloke ain't so bad..” Y/N however was sitting in bed dejected and not too convinced. “I don’t want to though...I don’t even want to do anything with him!” Miguel, shocked, puts down the mirror as he feels that same familiar feeling of hopelessness takes over his mind “who am I fooling…she’ll never see me as anything other than .... than a monster” he says as his voice shakes. He looks at the rose and sees a petal that slowly fell down and wither making the castle shake and crumble a bit.

“It’s hopeless…”

taglist: @cupcakeinat0r , @miguelhugger2099, @mcmiracles, @xxsugarbonesxx,@codenameredkrystalmatrix,@deputy-videogamer,@lxverrings,@miguelzslvtz,@itsameclinicaldepression,,@ricekrisbris,@loser-alert , @thedevax, @uncle-eggy, @m4dyy, @freehentai, @synamonthy, @razertail18, @s0lm1n, @badbishsblog, @faimmm, @opalwitchart,

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel atsv #spiderman miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel 2099

399 notes · View notes

lizthewriter · 10 months

Text

general mattheo riddle headcanons ☆ミ ☆彡

• to everyone else, mattheo is an uncaring bad boy - that is his reputation, that will always be his reputation

• but deep down, he's really a sweetheart

• he loves muggle music, more than he's willing to admit; the smith's, of course, and basically anything 60s and 70s; i'd say he also really loves punk rock, like the ramones

• out of all the slytherin boys, he's closest with blaise

• he and draco are actually not as close as you'd think them to be

• if anything, i feel like mattheo knows draco, pansy, crabbe, and goyle but he's not very close with them - he is, however, close with blaise and theodore nott

• he doesn't smoke - sorry for those of you who stan bad boy!mattheo but he just doesn't

• he likes to create art - he's never shown anyone, not even blaise

• he particularly likes to go out late at night to various parts of the grounds and draw what he sees - the black lake, near hagrid's hut, the astronomy tower, the clock tower, etc.

• he is not a morning person AT ALL, this man is a night owl

• he's actually a very nice person - very funny and sarcastic

• he doesn't have any interest in romance (that is until he meets you ofc)

• he's very smart but has no interest in academics

• he thinks he'd like to run a small shop somewhere

• he loves the quiet, but won't spend time in the library so people don't think he's some kind of nerd

• he likes scented candles and keeps some in his dorm - hides them from the others

• once, they found a candle in the room when mattheo forgot to put it away but it was on blaise's desk - blaise dealt with the teasing from the others for mattheo

• professor mcgonagall has a soft spot for him

• he thinks quidditch is stupid

• not really a sweet tooth or a big foodie

• doesn't really like parties either - like i said, he likes the quiet and only goes for blaise's sake

• the only class he actually loves is history of magic - he finds it kind of fascinating - shhhh don't tell anyone

• likes to go out on walks - at night though, that's the best time

• reads poetry, don't tell anyone I said that either

• he basically loves literature, poetry, music, solace, and the stars

• pretends he doesn't care about his friends that much but if you actually look close, he really loves them and does a lot of things for them

• he's not that talkative, so he usually listens and is very observant

• his favorite season is winter and he stays for the winter holidays each year

• he loves to explore the castle, especially during this time

• when he does fall in love with someone, he makes it plainly obvious to them and only them

• he'll flirt with you, no shame

• the most romantic shit and you don't even know him very well

• but once your his, then EVERYONE will know

• if someone else tries to touch you, he will go balls on that person

• he'll annihilate them

• yeah, he's a bit possessive

• no one can understand why you like him cause he seems like such an arse, but he's actually a sweetheart

• his love languages are physical touch and gift-giving

• expect small little gifts EVERYWHERE - he will hide this shit in your robes, your textbooks and parchment scrolls, in your pillowcase and on your desk

• he also ALWAYS has to be touching you somehow - hand on your waist, holding your pinky, brushing against his shoulder, arm swung around your shoulder, etc.

• not very into kissing in public - no, that's personal and just for you and him

• hopeless romantic, i don't make the rules babes 🤷‍♀️

• he loves teasing you and getting you all flustered

• will take you on dates to hogsmeade

• will never step foot inside madame puddifoot's

• and also late night dates - sneaking into different places like the library, the astronomy tower, and various places that have a good view of the grounds

• he doesn't like letting you do anything - by this i mean, he opens doors for you, if you drop something, he'll pick it up he'll carry your books and school bag, etc.

• expect to become best friends with blaise

• there's no way around it - mattheo and blaise are a package, you get one, you get the other

• abandonment issues, daddy issues, mommy issues-

• he overthinks a bit, so sometimes he needs reassurance that you're not going to leave him

• while he's constantly showering you with affection and praises, he needs his fair share too

• don't neglect your boy mattheo

• no one puts baby in a corner

Thank you all for reading! Be sure to like, reblog, and comment! I really appreciate it ^^. If you have any requests, by inbox is open but make sure to check the list of characters I write for here. If you want to be tagged in any upcoming fics/headcanons of mine, let me know. If you want to see more from me, go ahead and check out my masterlist here!

#mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x you #blaise zabini #slytherin boys #mattheo riddle headcanons #mattheo riddle headcanon #harry potter #romance #Hp #my fic #my writing #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #hp fanfcition #hp fanfic #— [ glizzy posts ☆ ]

970 notes · View notes

writesleah · 8 months

Text

not a chance ౨ৎ m. riddle

౨ৎ mattheo riddle x fem!reader

౨ৎ angst/fluff

౨ৎ you and mattheo are sworn enemies, but everything changes when he becomes your tutor

౨ৎ one sex reference, use of y/n

౨ৎ 1.9k words

౨ৎ this is way longer than i was planning on making it but once i started writing, the words just flowed. this hasn’t been proofread either so i apologise if theres any mistakes that slipped through. i’m also fairly new to writing mattheo, but i’m so obsessed with him right now that i just had to do it for my first published fic!

enemies should never spend time together - that’s just a fact - and mattheo riddle was your worst enemy. you had never met someone more infuriating in your life, someone so incredibly cocky that it made you want to pitch yourself off the astronomy tower. he did all of that for you, and more.

you were in your potions class, watching the hands on the clock tick by every second, every minute, waiting to finally be released from the hell professor snape held you in for a full hour every tuesday and friday.

potions was never really your strong suit, so you knew doing your O.W.L for the class wasn’t going to go so well, but your friends convinced you to go. of course they did.

your eyes darted to the door as you heard it swing open, a boy with curly, brunette hair stalking in.

“you’re late, mr riddle.” snape glared at mattheo, his voice it’s usual stern tone. “forty-five minutes late.”

“sorry, professor. i was helping professor moody with something for defence against the dark arts.” he sneered back, emphasising the fact that mad-eye moody was teaching the class and not snape, who gave him a sharp look before continuing on with his class.

“surprised to see you here.” the familiar voice scoffed as he took a seat on the table next to yours, where all of his friends were conveniently sitting. how pleasant.

“riddle.” you murmured, eyeing him as he took his seat and pulled out his quill.

“awh, greeting me?” he smirked, his head tilting just slightly in a way that was so incredibly frustrating. “did you miss me over the summer?”

you scoffed at the idea, rolling your eyes. “miss you? not so much.”

“ouch. that one hurt, not gonna lie to you.” he laughed to himself, scribbling down the date on the top of his parchment.

“cute.” you spat. you never really bothered to give him full replies, not in the way that he did, unless you felt it was absolutely necessary. “why’d you even turn up? the lesson ends in fifteen minutes.”

“i was going to just skip, but then i remembered my favourite person would be here.” he smiled warmly, though it was laced with that familiar sarcasm you knew all too well.

you give him a small glare, quirking a brow at him. “yeah? who’s that? me?”

“is that a joke?” he scoffed, his expression turning serious as he glared at her. “no, daphne.” he motioned to the girl on his right. you had noticed they had grown closer over the last few weeks of third year, but never really thought much of it. he wasn’t really the type to get into serious relationships, more just little flings or girls he would snog and then never speak to again.

you felt a pang of emotion in your heart, but you weren’t sure why, or what it was. a smirk slowly made its way onto his face as he watched your nose screw up, his brows raising in amusement. “why? you wish it was you?” he laughed again, sarcastically, as always.

“course. whatever will i do now that i know i’m not mattheo riddle’s favourite person?” you scoffed, shaking off the feeling and giving him the glare you always did. why did you care? you didn’t, right?

he gave you a small chuckle in return, before the conversation quickly ended, along with the lesson not so long after.

“miss (y/l/n), mr riddle, please stay seated when everyone else leaves.” snape demanded, causing you to roll your eyes and let out a quiet groan.

when everyone else had left, the professor stalked towards the two of you, eying you both up cautiously before he spoke.

“as you both know, you begin to prepare for your O.W.Ls in fourth year, this year.” he began, the mention of the tests making you want to curl up in a corner and never think again. “given miss (y/l/n)’s frank inability to brew a single potion over the last few years, she will need a tutor to give her any chance of passing the test.”

you screwed your nose up at the slight dig, but continued listening to him nonetheless. “now, mr riddle has proven himself to be quite talented in my class, so he will be your tutor. i trust that i can leave you two here for the hour to begin your first session?”

you groaned loudly, watching a smirk spread on mattheo’s stupid face, but nodded in defeat. “yes, professor.” you mumbled, your head in your hands.

snape swiftly left the room, leaving the two of you alone.

“you reckon we can just lie and say we did the hour?” you murmured, your eyes peeking through your fingers to look at the brunette.

he scoffed quietly. “kind as ever.” he retorted, shaking his head. “you might as well do it. we all know you’re hopeless when it comes to potions, so it might do you some good.”

“myeh, kind as ever.” you mimicked, rolling your eyes. “fine. hurry it up, though.”

he moved to sit next to you, beginning to ask you questions to gauge where you were at with your knowledge in potions. of course, you managed to get every question wrong, or do something that put him off.

“you don’t know anything?” he groaned, his eyes narrowing in frustration. “you’re so fucking stupid, merlin. i’ve never met a fourteen year old girl as dumb as you.”

you furrowed your brows, a small pout on your face. “i’m not stupid. it’s the subject. it doesn’t make any sense.”

“i’m going through first year stuff right now. you’re ridiculous if you think you’re going to pass your O.W.L.” he scoffed, waving his hands around frantically as you laid your head on the table, your tongue between your teeth as you held back a snarky comment.

“whatever.” you groaned. “i give up. i’m expecting myself to fail at this point. i know i will. there is no point in us doing this.”

“i mean… you’re probably right, but you should at least try.” he shrugged slightly, his tone still full of annoyance. you watched his fingers brush through his dark curls, your head tilting just slightly as he did so. his brows furrowed as he looked at you, muttering a small “what?”

“why are you so insistent that i stay with you right now?” you blurted, voicing your thoughts before you could take it back.

he didn’t say anything, glancing away for a moment before looking back at you, his eyes tracing your body just long enough for you to notice. you squirmed slightly at the sudden tension between you, shooting him a dirty look.

“stop looking at me like that. it’s weird.” you spat, attempting to shake off his gaze, if that was even possible.

“like what?” his eyes shot back up to yours, his nose scrunching slightly, his smile frown lines more visible than ever.

“like i’m one of the girls you try to snog up in the astronomy tower. stop it.” you had witnessed and interrupted his shameless make out sessions far too many times, the tower being a place you both frequented, though for reasons of the complete opposite. you went there to be alone, he went there to have company.

his hand shifted to your thigh, landing on top of your pleated school skirt the uniform required you to wear, a smirk on his face. “do you want to be?”

your gaze was fixed on his hand, squirming slightly at the sudden contact, though not making any effort to stop it. “uh, no. not really. what the fuck?” you let out a half-laugh as you looked back up at him, seeing his brows furrow slightly. “what? was that not the right answer? want me to get on my knees and beg for you to make out with me under the stars?”

he scoffed to himself, rolling his eyes. “yeah, you’d definitely do that.” he retorted sarcastically, giving you a small glare.

“you have the wrong idea of me.” you shook your head, biting your lower lip just slightly as you felt his thumb move to the hem of your skirt. “what are you doing?”

“showing you how much i want you.” his voice took on a low and serious tone, before crashing his lips into yours. you didn’t move for a moment, before quickly coming to your senses and shoving him off.

“are you high or something?” you looked him up and down, rubbing your lips together in an attempt to make the strange sensation they held go away.

“no. completely sober. i don’t smoke weed.” he laughed quietly, looking at you in amusement. you gave him a small huff, knowing that he wasn’t exactly telling the truth. “was that your first kiss?”

your lips parted in amusement, the tip of your tongue held just between your front teeth. “what?”

“was that your first kiss?” he repeated, his eyes tracing every inch of your face. “because, no offence, but if it wasn’t, you’re a pretty shit kisser. i doubt you have experience.”

you scoffed at his words, shaking your head with a small pout. “no, it wasn’t my first kiss. it was just ‘shit’, as you so elegantly put it, because i didn’t fucking kiss you back, idiot.” you felt the overwhelming urge to spit as many swear words and insults you could muster at him, but held back when you saw the look in his eyes.

“wanna actually kiss me, then?” he huffed, rolling his eyes, before they settled on the pillowy, pink flesh of your lips.

you hesitated for a moment, before leaning in to give him a small kiss. his lips were soft, and the slow motions gave you a better feel of him than the first kiss. it felt safer, more intimate.

the second you went to pull away, he pulled you in closer, the kiss growing slightly more aggressive. you felt the edge of his fingertips slide just slightly under your skirt, going no further than the edge of the hem. the movement was enough for you to pull away, though.

“riddle…” you whispered, your eyes shooting down to his hand. “look, i don’t know what you get up to with half your little girlfriends, but i don’t wanna, like, do anything, so…” you shrugged slightly.

he looked at you with a furrowed brow for a moment, before letting out a small chuckle, which just confused you further. “oh, wait, no.” he shook his head, which tilted as a sly smirk came across his face. he removed his hand from your thigh and let out another short laugh. “i wasn’t trying to- sorry. yeah, no, i’m in the same boat as you. i may get with a lot of girls, but i’m still fourteen at the end of the day. i’m not really doing anything other than make-outs yet.”

you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding at his words, a small smile settling on your face. “okay, good. i was panicking a bit there.” you added with a single laugh.

it was silent for a while as you both relished in each other’s company, or rather, didn’t know what else to say.

“so…” you spoke up after a couple minutes, your eyes darting back to his, “do we still hate each other?”ll

he raised his brows in amusement, a small, almost disgusted scoff coming from his mouth.

“not a chance.”

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo x you #mattheo x y/n #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle x reader #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfiction #benjamin wadsworth #fanfic #enemies to lovers #forced proximity

431 notes · View notes

magics-neptunes-things · 5 months

Text

Winter Wonderland

Hello everyone!

Wow, I didn't expect so much hype for a blurb with Leila, but thanks for all of you messages!

This is my last Christmas story, I admit to arrive at the end of my imagination for the subject and I prefer to stop before getting tired.

As always your advice and comments are a pleasure to receive, juste like your DM :)

Enjoy!

TW: None.

When Leila offered to spend a few days in the snow, in the cold Switzerland, you were at first particularly surprised. You know that the girl usually takes advantage of each holiday to return to her family and enjoy them and you join her whenever you have the opportunity. New Year is celebrated with her friends in the rules of the art and it has never changed since you are together.

Except this year, Leila’s envy seems to be elsewhere. So it's in a chalet in Switzerland that you find yourself celebrating New Year’s Eve. Leila has booked a chic restaurant for the meal and you decided to walk around when it ended, hours after you came in. The typical village is decorated for the Holidays, answering all the kitsch ideas that someone can have about a Swiss mountain village during this period. But you love it and judging by Leila’s smile, so does she.

"Looks like Winter Wonderland"

You smile as you look at her, both hands entwined, swaying between you two. Even if it's cold, it's still bearable since you have wrapped yourself up from head to toe. You miss the feeling of her skin against yours when you hold your hand, but you will survive until you return to the warmth of the house you rented.

"It’s almost midnight"

You realize aloud when you arrive at the main square of the village. A small crowd of people gathered at the center and even if you don't understand what is being said, the joyful and relaxed discussions make you smile. Leila answered you with the positive, her gaze also resting on the large clock of the bell tower that faces you.

You observe this spectacle a few minutes before a countdown begins to run, announcing the lasts seconds of this year. You feel Leila coming closer to you when the fireworks are launched into the sky after the zero.

You smile when you see this, you always had a special thing for fireworks since you were little. Leila had joked once that there would be fireworks at your wedding and even if your stomach had done a flip when she mentioned the idea of marrying you, you held the idea in a corner of your brain.

Your smile gets bigger when you feel Leila kissing just below your ear. You shiver and this time the cold has nothing to do with it.

"Happy New Year, my Love" she whispers against your skin.

You slightly lift off her so you can put your arms around her waist, laying a kiss on her lips to which she hurries to respond.

"Happy New Year to you too" you answer smiling, a few seconds later.

You willingly let her slip a lock of your hair behind your ear, taking the opportunity to watch her with all your love. The street lights give even more depth to her gaze and an amused smile appears on her lips when she catches you looking at them.

"Cheeky" she laughs, before kissing you again.

After this new kiss, you look up to enjoy the show that is offered to you, without letting her go. You don’t care who sees you, anyway you don’t know anyone here. You don’t know how much Leila enjoys the fireworks, her lips laying kisses on your forehead or cheek at regular intervals. But you’d trade that moment for nothing.

"Why didn’t you want to celebrate New Year’s with your friends this year?" You ask Leila curiously, as you go back to the cottage a little after, still hand in hand.

You see her hesitating for a few seconds, frowning and thinking.

"I don’t know how to explain that. It just seemed more… right? Sorry if it doesn’t make sense."

You smile and shrug, without taking your eyes off her.

"I don’t know if it makes sense. But it’s without any hesitation the best New Year I’ve had."

The smile that Leila gives you takes your breath away and you find yourself having trouble swallowing your saliva so as not to jump on her in the middle of the street. Your trouble must have been perceived by your girlfriend, that being said, since she take you against her with the help of your hands entwined. She lets go of your hand only to pass it over your hips and whisper in the hollow of your ear

"Wait till I take you home, my Love"

#woso x reader #woso imagine #leila ouahabi #leila ouahabi x reader #leila ouahabi imagine

211 notes · View notes

slytherinshua · 5 months

Text

FLYING BICYCLES AND LOVESTRUCK MAGIC

genre. fluff. kiki's delivery service au-ish. a lil mutual pining. warnings. reader is basically kiki and sohee is basically tombo lol. some psychic magic mentioned. it's mostly just them being whipped for each other. osono cameo cause she's mvp fr. pairing. sohee x witch!reader. wc. 2.5k. a/n. the riize brainrot is SO REAL. idk why i felt sohee would fit the role of tombo so perfectly hes just sooo 💔💔 i love him guys 🥹

Sohee was 97.62436% sure that he was going crazy when he first saw you flying on a broomstick through the city. Of course, the other 2.37564% that had gone completely insane was fascinated, excited, and probably (definitely) head over heels in love.

He lived in a small town. One where the word went around like a whirlwind as soon as anyone new moved in. It was the most exciting thing that could happen for the residents there, especially when the newcomer happened to be a very pretty girl from a rich city.

Most people would move out of the town when they reached 20 or so to discover themselves. Yet they always seemed to find their way back when they were a bit more settled. It was a rite of passage— a route to adulthood that almost everyone assumed the youth of the town would take. Sohee liked his town, though, and didn’t feel any need to move away. He had already discovered himself enough to know what he wanted to do with his life.

There were exciting things to do that he doubted he would be able to do anywhere else. Visiting the town’s grandpa that ran the old antique shop, getting free candy from the young lady who ran the candy store after the old owner had passed away, seeing every new addition to the art gallery from the aspiring painters and sculptors in town. And, his favourite activity: investigating the old junk yard for spare parts to make his newest models.

Sohee liked to call himself an inventor. It felt spiffy and official. He showed off every new creation he pieced together with rusted tools and even rustier bits of metal like it was the next world-changing invention. He could spend hours in his dad’s old workshop working with nuts and bolts, seeing what the pieces could make once they came together.

He had been determined to make a flying vehicle for years now. After finding a beautiful old wind turbine in the junkyard when he was 14, he had started planning mock-ups for a bicycle. He would attach the turbine in front of it so that when you pedalled, the turbine spinned. The hope was that with enough inertia, you could eventually lift off the ground with it. He was skeptical that it would actually work, though.

He hadn’t officially talked to you yet. You had been in town for a couple days now, staying with the couple that ran the local bakery. Sohee thought you were absolutely beautiful from the moment he first saw you. He had been riding his bicycle past the bakery on his way to the carpenters to pick up some tools. One glance at you through the window had him abruptly pushing on the brakes, eyes going wide.

Maybe it was a bit of an exaggeration, but you looked like an angel. Or a goddess. Or a fairy. Sohee couldn’t decide which one, but he knew that you were the most stunning person he had ever seen. Since that day, he kept running into you in town, but his own nervousness had stopped him from talking to you properly. He had held a few conversations; enough to know your name and age, but clearly not enough to know that you could fly through the air.

Now, he was staring wide-eyed at the clouds, watching you soar just beneath them so effortlessly. He craned his head to watch you as long as he could before you disappeared behind the clock tower.

“Woah…” He whispered, jaw dropped in an awestruck expression.

“She’s quite the girl, isn’t she?”

Sohee turned to the side, nodding in agreement with what Osono, the bakery lady, had said.

“She’s amazing. Do you know how she does it?” He asked with a grin.

“Haven’t you heard by now, Sohee? She’s a witch! She chose our town to do her witch training.” Osono explained.

“That’s incredible! I didn’t even know witches actually existed! Do you know what she’s training in?!” Sohee felt like his brain was spinning at a speed incomprehensible to mankind. He kept thinking of more and more questions about you. He’d never seen anyone quite like you before, and the more he learned, the more intrigued he became.

“She said she’s still figuring it out— but she’s interested in love readings. For now, she’s using her flying skills to help me and the town. She’s an excellent delivery girl!” Osono beamed.

“Love readings…?” Sohee pondered the idea on his way back home. The next day, he found himself at the town’s library, scanning through the small section on magic and witches with more focus than he had put to almost anything.

“Miss witch, I’d like to get a love reading!” He announced happily, swinging open the door to the bakery where you were seated at the counter, seconds away from falling asleep due to the lack of customers. You jerked up at the sound of Sohee, immediately knowing that it was him from his playful nickname for you— miss witch.

“Really!? You want one!?” You jumped up from your seat and rushed around the counter to be face to face with him. Sohee had become your first friend in town. After he had seen you fly that day, he discovered the key to talking to you without being awkward. You could fly and he wanted to fly. There was a perfect common interest.

You loved talking to Sohee. He was infinitely more interesting than the kids back at your old home, most of which were stuck up and rude. Sohee was bright and kind and full of imagination and dreams and inspiration. He never got bored of you talking about being a witch, and you never got bored of hearing about his new inventions. You had never clicked so well with someone before.

There was also the fact that he was the prettiest boy you’d ever seen. But that was… less important. You had a bad habit of crushing on boys without it ever going anywhere. You were determined not to repeat that disaster a sixth time.

“It would be my great honour to be your very first customer.” Sohee said dramatically, making you giggle with excitement.

“Well, then, dear client, shall we go to my witch lair? I can’t perform the reading anywhere else.” You responded, matching his dramatics perfectly. He grinned and nodded and you grabbed his wrist to lead him upstairs.

“It’s a bit messy— give me a second!” You rushed around your small attic space that Osono had been so kind to let you stay in for free. You hurriedly put away the food that you had gotten for breakfast and shoved some odd trinkets under your bed so that they were hidden. Sohee just watched, his heart racing. He really needed to get that under control.

“Where’s my witching supplies- Aha! Here it is!” You held up a small purple box, bejewelled with gold ornaments. It looked ancient and rusty— exactly the type of artifact that Sohee loved.

You set down a thin blanket on the wooden floor before taking out the little baubles and setting them in the middle of the fabric. Sohee sat on one end, and you on the other.

“Alright, mister… I have a series of questions, but for this to work, you must answer them completely honestly. If you lie even once, the whole thing will be messed up!” You had put on your mother’s joke witches had for fun. The sight made Sohee laugh, especially when you deepened your voice to sound old as you explained how things would work.

“I got it. I’ll tell only the truth.” Sohee promised.

“Once you answer all the questions, I’ll flip over this blank card. If everything works out, the name of the person you love the most will slowly appear before your eyes! Now… Are you ready?” You quirked an eyebrow, staring seriously at him even though on the inside you were about to burst with excitement. It was your dream to open your own love reading business. You just weren’t completely sure if you were good enough at it yet.

Sohee nodded eagerly, a mix of excitement and nervousness stewing inside of him. He wasn’t sure exactly what to expect, so he carefully followed along with what you did to make sure he didn’t mess anything up. You closed your eyes and he followed suit.

The questions you asked started out simple, without Sohee needing to deliberate before delivering the honest answer to you. But as they went on, they got more complex and more personal. Sohee had never doubted your abilities as a witch, but he hadn’t expected you to be able to see right through him.

“Last question…”

“Mhm?” Sohee could feel his stomach twist in nervousness, but he breathed steadily to try to calm his nerves.

“Do you believe yourself to be in love with someone at this current moment?”

Sohee swallowed slowly, his mouth and throat feeling parched all of a sudden. He took his time to think through it, though the answer was almost painfully obvious. He had never been more in love in his entire life.

“Yes.” He finally answered with certainty, a slight burden lifting off his chest. It was almost as if he was confessing to you in a way— and though he didn’t say it directly, it still eased some of his anxiety. He opened his eyes hesitantly after answering to see your face scrunched in concentration.

“No way-” You opened your eyes as well, frowning in confusion and looking up to Sohee with a questioning gaze. “By any chance are you…?”

“Huh?” Sohee blinked, confused at your actions. You shook your head quickly and stared down at the blank card.

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

The air felt a little tense as you slowly flipped over the black card. You held your hand over it for a few seconds, shielding it from Sohee’s curious view. You lifted your hand carefully once you were sure it had worked and watched as the name slowly appeared on the card.

You sat in frozen shock once you read the name on the card, struggling to process what you had seen. Your name was displayed on the card, clearer than ever. There was no way that anyone could possibly mistake it or misread it, but you just couldn’t believe it.

“It- we- we must’ve messed it up somehow! There’s no way that’s- It must’ve got me confused, right!?” Sohee spluttered helplessly, his entire face a bright shade of red. Somehow in his calculations, he didn’t expect for the card to expose him that horrendously, right in front of you as well.

“I don’t think we did it wrong, though… Everything felt… right.” You said quietly. “Do you… like me?” You could barely get the words to come out of your throat.

There were some parts of your magic that you still needed time to trust completely. Flying had always been easy in that aspect; you either flew or you didn’t. But when it came to love readings, you wondered how likely it was that your magic had gotten messed up. You liked to be whimsical and believe that your love readings could be completely accurate, but your confidence had never been as low as in this moment.

However nervous you were feeling, it was a thousand times worse for Sohee. You had a small inkling of hope— hope that he would say yes. But for Sohee, he could only think of the possible rejection. Or the even worse possibility that this would tear apart your friendship.

“Yes…?” Sohee whispered out to you. You had never heard him this nervous or quiet before.

“Really? Are you sure?” You asked again, this time with a little more voice and hope surging in you. Sohee must have picked up on the hopeful tone, as he answered yes again, this time with more certainty.

“Then the reading wasn’t wrong?! You actually like me?” Your hand clasped over your mouth before you could ramble anymore in your state of disbelief.

“What about you? I mean… you probably don’t, right? But maybe…?” Sohee couldn’t help but be hopeful for your response, but he held himself back from being too expectant on the response he was dreaming for.

“Do I like you back?! Of course I do- It wasn’t obvious before now?” You stuttered in disbelief.

“I mean- I hoped you did, but I couldn’t be sure.” Sohee clarified. The tension in the room had completely dissipated by now, and your smiles were slowly coming back as the reality settled in.

“I’ve liked you since I moved here, I think. Didn’t you ever question why we kept running into each other before we became friends?”

“No? I just thought it was a lucky coincidence.” Sohee admitted with a laugh.

“It was because whenever I spotted you biking around town, I’d land in a street nearby and pretend like I was always walking that way just to cross paths with you!” You corrected stubbornly. Now that it was clear that the feelings were mutual, you wanted him to know the effort that you went through to get closer to him.

“I also started going past the bakery on my way home. It added an extra 5 minutes to my route, but it was worth it to see you working through the glass window.” He scratched the back of his neck shyly, mirroring your smile when your eyes brightened at hearing his confession.

“So… what now?” You questioned suddenly after a prolonged silence of both of you trying to stare at the other while simultaneously trying your best not to look obvious.

“Would you go out with me?” Sohee asked excitedly. “Oh shoot- I should’ve gotten flowers first. Wait here- I’ll be quick!” He stammered, rushing out of the room before you could stop him. He was gone only long enough for you to giggle in delight while you cleaned up the supplies you had laid out. Your witching skills had come in handy in the best of ways.

He was out of breath by the time he burst open the door again, but his eyes had never glimmered any brighter. He held a bouquet of pink and white roses, a little squished on one side from the rush he had been in.

“You know you didn’t have to go buy these…” You bit back a smile, taking the pretty flowers from his hands.

“My mom always said the best way to charm a lady was with flowers.” He panted and grinned at you cheekily when you shot him a look. You smiled as you sniffed the sweet scent of the roses. Sohee was about to say something else, but you pulled him into a tight hug before he could start, the unexpected gesture knocking all words he had into another dimension.

“I really like you, Sohee.” You whispered, your smile twinkling as you rested your head on his shoulder.

He took a second to get over the shock of you hugging him before he was wrapping his arms around your frame as well, mumbling back, “Me too.”

↳ riize taglist: @eternalgyu,, @kangtaehyunzzz,, @weird-bookworm,, @haecien

229 notes · View notes

matchavellichor · 9 months

Note

AAAANNNNND another one:

Omi begs MC to let him help her whenever she goes out to slay poachers, ect. She never wanted him to get hurt, so she has always said no. After Omi starts giving her the could shoulder over it, she can't take it anymore, and she allows him to come along.

They bit off more than they could chew, however, and the last living poacher casts Imperio on MC and commands her to kill Ominis. (Poacher's injuries are too great to do anything else. Also just wants to make her suffer by forcing her to slay her friend)

She tries to summon the will to fight it, but it's not working, despite Ominis yelling at her, trying to snap her out of it. She disarms Omi and starts walking towards him. Nothing works until he pulls her into a kiss. It jars her enough that she breaks free from it and kills the poacher C:

bada-bing bada-boom. Happy ending <3

A/N: Finally getting through more asks, sorry for the delay 🥴 This was such a cute idea, ty for the request!! 💕

Kisses Against the Dark Arts

f!MC x Ominis Gaunt - Fluff - 2k words

Tags: Minor Descriptions of Violence, Use of Imperius, Crime Fighting Besties, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Banter

Summary: After dismantling a poacher camp goes astray, Ominis resorts to more unconventional means to free his friend from a dark curse.

“Are we almost there?”

“That’s the eighth time in the last half hour,” she huffs. “Ask me one more time and I’ll leave you to the Dugbogs.”

“Oh, excuse me for being concerned,” Ominis raises his hands defensively. “We’re already breaking curfew, we really shouldn’t stay out too long.”

She turns to blink at him. “You’re tagging along to destroy poacher camps with me and your concern is that we’re…breaking curfew.”

“Well, yes, it’s a perfectly valid concern,” he scoffs, as if it’s obvious. “Besides, I have a reputation to keep if I want to be made prefect next year.”

She shakes her head, incredulous. “I hate to burst your bubble, Ominis, but I think your reputation’s been sullied enough just by spending time with Sebastian.”

“Actually, I think it’s the contrary,” he retorts, looking smug. “I’m hoping that if Headmaster Black sees that I can successfully rally in the likes of Sebastian, he’ll consider me apt for the position.”

She considers this reasoning for a moment, before turning him with furrowed brows. “Didn’t he unleash a horde of inferi near the outskirts of Hogsmeade just last week? Is that what you call rallying in?”

Ominis looks unfazed, shrugging. “You win some, you lose some. I pick my battles.”

“Well, uh—now would be a good time to pick your battle,” she murmurs as she suddenly gets into a defensive position, wand arm outstretched in front of her. “We’ve got company, twelve o’ clock.”

“Why do you say these things as if I’ll know what you mean—” Ominis interrupts himself with a shriek as a spell just barely misses his head.

She swiftly casts a few counterattacks while she ducks behind splintered logs and trees, shouting, “Up ahead, Ominis—I mean up ahead! Was the hurtling bombarda enough to solidify your sense of direction?”

Ominis narrowly avoids another incoming hex, a diffindo this time, rolling for cover into some underbrush. “Yes, thank you dearly for your help—you wouldn’t believe the wonders that near-decapitation will do for your spatial awareness!”

She sends a pillar of wooden crates careening through the air towards a trio of poachers, successfully burying them under layers of debris.

Ominis winces from behind her at the very audible sound of bones breaking. “Must you be so violent?”

An archer catches them off-guard from a surrounding tower and Ominis promptly sends a confringo in his direction, toppling the wizard from his perch in a fireball of flames.

“I hate to be that person, but I think that was arguably a bit more violent,” she murmurs, looking increasingly amused.

“Oh, quiet,” he scolds. “Minor lapse in judgment in the heat of the moment.”

“Did Ominis Gaunt just make a pun?” she shouts over a chain of stupefies and expelliarmus, amusement and incredulity seeping through her tone.

He rolls his eyes. “It was not a pun, that would be terribly inappropriate.”

Even with a fair amount of banter to slow them down, working together they manage to eviscerate every last poacher with ease, and in record time. They free all of the captured animals with a few alohomoras, and she watches with satisfaction as they prance gratefully back into the forest.

Wiping off the soot on her cheeks from an awry confringo, she walks over to check up on Ominis leaning against a large oak tree, trying to catch his breath, doubled over with his hands on his knees.

“That was…”

“Surprisingly smooth, right?” she beams. “I have to admit, I’m impressed. I thought I’d be casting a few limb reattachment spells by now, but you actually held your own.”

Ominis looks visibly unamused. “Well, you’re going to be casting a scourgify pretty soon…Gods, I’m going to be sick. Is it normal to smell so heavily of charred flesh?”

“All in a day’s work, my friend,” she pats his back a bit too harshly and he dry heaves over the grass. “Though, to be fair, I wasn’t the one going crazy on the fire spells.”

“They’re effective!”

“Effective at making human barbecue, sure,” she snorts.

He groans. “Dear Salazar, let’s just get out of here before I lose my dinner.”

She finally concedes, picking up her rucksack and slinging it over her shoulder when a jet of white light hits her from behind, nearly toppling her over from the full force of the spell that hits her square in the back.

All Ominis can hear is the Imperius incantation sounding in his ears from behind them, and a satisfied snicker from a lone surviving poacher, more than pleased that he hit his mark.

Ominis scrambles for his wand tucked away in his pocket, but the panic coursing through his veins at his friend being struck makes his reflexes unsteady. An expelliarmus knocks his wand out his hand before he can even properly point it towards the aggressor.

“Oh, this should be fun,” a grating voice shouts, and Ominis’ head darts towards the direction of the dark wizard. “Teach you meddling little shits not to poke your snout ‘round where it don’t belong.”

The wizard directs his attention to where she’s still standing frozen in place, staring blankly ahead, her pupils a hazy white. A cruel sneer stretches across his mouth and he nods his head towards Ominis. “Kill him.”

She charges for Ominis immediately, forcing the blonde to stumble back, toppling over a tree stump. She looms over him, wand arm outstretched and emotionless eyes staring down at him, before the wizard tsks disapprovingly from behind.

“Stop, stop. Use your hands,” he sighs, almost bored. “I think killing your friend warrants a bit more intimacy, no?” The evil cackle that rises from his throat is enough to make dread shiver down Ominis’ spine.

Obediently, she discards her wind beside her, landing somewhere out of reach on the grassy field. She lunges for him, pinning him down with her body on his, fingers scrambling to wrap around his throat.

She’s smaller than him, but hours of training in the Undercroft has grown her strength significantly. Ominis finds it a genuine struggle to hold her hands away, her nails digging long, red lines down his arms as she thrashed.

“F-finite incantatem! Finite—oh, dear Merlin,” he attempts to no avail, voice frantic, her name tumbling from his lips in a litany of pleas to get her to snap out of the trance. “It’s me, it’s me, you can break the spell, just concentrate!”

“Uh oh, I don’t think she can hear you.” The poacher sits on a fallen tree trunk watching the entire ordeal, arms crossed lazily over his chest, a sadistic grin pulled at his lips.

Ominis ignores the taunting, using more force against her, collecting both of her hands in one of his while she still claws and writhes above him.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Genuine remorse bleeds through Ominis’ voice as he scrambles to push her off him, flipping them over and pinning her wrists to the ground underneath him. “Please.”

The poacher frowns at the sudden change in position, unpleased. “Use the dagger holstered on your hip,” he directs with his wand outstretched to ensure the full-force of the command. “‘Bout time things got more interesting.”

She unsheathes the dagger in one swift movement, blade pressed against the pale expanse of Ominis’ throat, teeth bared in a vicious snarl.

It’s momentary, fleeting, but just then something flashes in her eyes. A brief flicker in the trance, the slightest stutter in her hand, color seeping through the milky haze of her irises. It’s gone as quickly as it comes, but proves useful anyways.

Ominis capitalizes on this hesitation to wrap his hand around her wrist and keep her from applying too much pressure. A bead of blood runs down the long length of goblin-wrought steel, Ominis’ throat bobbing against the cold press as he swallows nervously. He winces when she tries to dig the dagger in more, cutting into unmarked skin.

“It’s me, hey, hey, just listen,” he tries to keep his voice steady, calming, but it wavers, his nerves an utter mess. “Your magic’s stronger than his. You can break it. Focus on my voice.”

“Oh, sure, that’ll work.” The poacher snorts, clearly entertained. “Maybe you should kiss her, lover boy, she might just be repulsed enough to snap out of it!” He doubles over laughing and Ominis grits his teeth in frustration.

The suggestion doesn’t fall on deaf ears, however.

Maybe he can blame the decision later on sheer desperation, a last ditch-effort to save his skin, pure adrenaline in the moment. Although, he would be lying if he said that was the sole motivation. He surges forward on instinct, lips crashing into hers, maintaining one hand in a vice-like grip around her wrist and the other cupping her cheek so she can’t squirm away from his mouth.

She freezes, eyes blowing wide, lips unmoving against his. The poacher is just as petrified beside them, in shock that Ominis had the gall to actually do it.

Just when he thinks his attempt was unsuccessful, the hand she has wrapped around the dagger goes slack, losing all pressure against his skin. She lets it fall to the grass beside them, blade discarded, before she’s bringing it back up to cup his cheek and pull him in for more.

Ominis feels his entire world tilt, his face heating, his brain too dizzy to procure a single coherent thought. It really is a terrible circumstance to have a world-shattering kiss.

Thankfully, she’s somehow able to maintain better mental faculties. She outstretches a hand, fingers splayed open, casting a wordless accio for her wand dropped a few meters away from them.

The poacher is staring at them, mouth gaped like a fish, which is exactly how he remains when she sends a petrificus hurtling in his direction, another exhibition of impeccable wordless magic—because she absolutely refuses to remove her lips from his.

He can feel her smug smirk when it hits the wizard square in the chest, toppling him over like a bag of bricks. He would’ve called her a show-off, if he had even the remotest capacity for words at the moment.

When she finally pulls away, his chest is heaving, a red flush creeping over his skin from under his oxford, over his neck and cheeks. She’s breathless when she finally finds her words, bottom lip pulled between her teeth. “That’s…certainly one way to break an Imperius.”

He lets out an awkward laugh before sheepishly helping her up off the ground, dusting remnants of leaves and dirt off her clothes. He clears his throat, trying to feign an air of indifferent composure. “Are you alright?”

She glances at him sidelong, amused by just how affected he looks. “Not sure,” she smirks. “Might want to kiss me again, just to get rid of any traces of the curse. After all, you can never be too caref—mmph!”

While her intentions were just to tease, she can’t deny the thrill that courses through her when he actually wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against his body. Her gasp dies on his lips as he presses his mouth to hers, her fingers curling into his shirt for support when her knees seem on the brink of buckling.

He kisses her hungrily, passionately, as if he wants there to remain no blurred lines between his intentions in kissing her, if the last one has left any room for doubt. This time, she feels her world tilt on its axis, her only grounding point being the protective confines of Ominis’ arms, his solid body pressed against hers.

She realizes she could spend hours like this, and she wonders why for two fearless, poacher-fighting mercenaries, neither of them had mustered the courage to do so sooner.

“Better?” he finally pulls away, the ghost of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips, coated in smug satisfaction to rival even her own.

“I don’t know,” she grins, bringing her arms up to lock behind his neck. “Maybe we should be really, really sure.”

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis x mc #hogwarts legacy imagine #hogwarts legacy ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fan fiction #fanfiction

311 notes · View notes

sallownights · 1 year

Text

lavender haze

Request: Can I pls request an Ominis Gaunt x fem Slytherin reader who is part of the Black family and is the niece of professor Black. The two have been best friends since childhood but have also been in an arranged marriage since before they were born. At school, Professor Black often teases the two, as well as Sebastian. They argue that they are just friends but they both have feelings for each other. It all changes during Christmas break when Ominis mother sends him an owl saying that him and his fiancé are to stay at the Gaunt Manor over the break. Ominis is reluctant but y/n convinced him that everything will be fine and that they should go. When they arrive at the manor Ominis parents and siblings greet y/n saying how much they have missed her. During their stay, Ominis confesses his feelings to her and they finally get together. 💕

request by: @levis-dilutedbleach

word count: 5.2k

CW: ominis’ family (i feel like they need a warning), violence, fluff, gramatical errors (maybe), hurt/comfort? maybe? (idk what the tags would be <3)

A/N: I had so much fun writing this! And ofc i related it to taylor swift. bc i think i’m just branding my blog this way. sorry. love you.

pairing: ominis gaunt x f!slytherin!reader

“Did you get number 4 yet? I don’t understand the question.” Y/N looks at Ominis, her eyes pleading a bit.

Ominis nods curtly, his slender fingers still grazing his book. Y/N stares at Ominis, for a moment, before sliding her chair over to look at his parchment.

Ominis closes his eyes, breathing in Y/N’s perfume. Lavender. He let himself get lost in her for a moment. The proximity to Y/N was intoxicating. He hears a chair scrapping away from him, the scent going with it.

“Thank you,” Ominis can hear the smile in Y/N’s voice.

“Do you have any plans today? I heard Sebastian say something about practicing spells in the Undercroft.” Y/N asks Ominis, watching him intently. Ominis’ eyebrows furrow.

“I believe he mentioned it, yes,” Ominis pauses for a moment. His breathing a bit shaky. “Would you like to accompany me?”

Y/N thinks for a moment. While yes, she does want to spend time with Ominis, she doesn’t enjoy the constant teasing from Sebastian. Or the teasing from her uncle, Professor Black, whenever she and Ominis are in the halls.

“I don’t want to intrude-”

“You won’t be.” A small smile graces Y/N’s lips.

“Well then, I shall accompany you.”

After studying for a couple more hours, Ominis collects his things, helping Y/N get her things together as well. Before Y/N can pick up her books, Ominis takes them into his arms. Y/N began to protest before Ominis started walking, not giving her a moment to disagree with his actions.

Y/N and Ominis walk into the Defense Against the Dark Arts Tower, making their way to the secluded, odd clock. Ominis and Y/N fit into the lift, lowering them to the ground. The lift creaks and Y/N opens the gate, the metal grating against the brick.

“Hey, Ominis… and Y/N. Didn’t know you’d be joining us today.” Sebastian walks over to the pair. Y/N looks to Ominis for a moment before turning back to Sebastian.

“Yes, I hope that’s alright. Ominis asked if I liked to join.” Sebastian smirks. That same stupid damn smirk.

“Well, don’t let me stop you.” Y/N takes her books from Ominis’ arms. She walks over to a plush lounge chair she conjured at the end of last year. Y/N sets her pile of books down taking the one off the top. Advanced Charms.

‘Great’ Y/N thought to herself. She looks over to the boys who are deep in conversation before they start taking their robes off. Y/N stands, walking over offering to hang them up. Sebastian throws his at her, bending down to re-tie his shoes. Ominis gently hands his robes to her, placing his hand atop hers.

“Thank you, Y/N.” Ominis gives her a warm smile while heat rises in her chest.

“Mhmm.” That was all she could muster to say. She walks over to their makeshift coat rack and hangs up their robes, brushing out any wrinkles they might have. Sebastian’s clearly more of a mess than Ominis.

When Y/N resettles herself on the chair, she starts reading where she left off in the library. She hears the boys shuffle for a second before she notices Ominis rolling up his sleeves. She blushes to herself, trying to force herself to look back at her book, but finding herself entranced by Ominis toned forearms. Her gaze moves lower, to his hands. She knows she’s staring and she knows she should stop, but something about the way he grips his wand when he’s about to duel. She feels her body grow hot before Sebastian sends off a few spells at Ominis, to which he dodges.

Y/N breaks her gaze, allowing herself to cool off as she reads about the Aguamenti Charm.

‘It provides the user with a jet of clear, pure water, and shoots it from the tip of the caster's wand.’

‘If only it were holy water’ Y/N thinks to herself. Fanning her face from the heat of the Undercroft. While it was normally quite cold, Sebastian has a rather clear fixation with fiery spells.

“I yield! I yield!” Y/N’s head shoots up seeing Sebastian now on the ground underneath Ominis. Ominis, bending Sebastian’s leg in a way that it should not be going.

Ominis stands and brushes himself off, before lending a hand down to Sebastian.

Sebastian takes Ominis’ hand, jumping back up.

“That’s not fair. We said no tackling.” Sebastian said, pouting.

“I believe we said that last duel, not this one,” Ominis replies. Y/N stifles a laugh, knowing Sebastian was going to be all grumbly over his loss.

“Okay, let’s go again. No tackling,” Sebastian turns to Y/N. “And no ogling!” Y/N rolls her eyes but feels that familiar heat rise to her cheeks.

“I wasn’t ogling,” Y/N mutters, almost certain neither boy could hear her.

“It’s alright if you were, Y/N. I don’t mind someone seeing Sebastian’s defeat.” Ominis answers. It was rare when Ominis would gloat. However, he knew his strengths. Y/N remembers the first time she saw Ominis beat Sebastian in a duel. He was quite proud of himself but ever the gentleman, he wasn’t one to brag. However, now, he did it just to get under the freckled boys skin.

“Let’s just go again.” Sebastian brandishes his wand.

“As you wish.” Ominis, says calmly.

The boys continue to duel, this time, no tackling and no ogling. Y/N kept her eyes glued to her book. Her eyes scan the words, but not processing a single one.

‘I wasn’t staring.’ She thinks to herself. She doesn’t dare look up from her book when she hears Sebastian yell a few curses.

“Do you yield?” Ominis has Sebastian cornered.

“Like hell I’ll yield!” Sebastian sneers out.

“Have it your way.” Ominis’ calm demeanor doesn’t change. Even when he sends a fiery blast of Confringo at his best friend.

‘Deprimo. Used to blast holes into the ground.’ Y/N’s eyes are ripped from her book as she feels a sharp pain on her shoulder and yells. She tries to look down at her shoulder, which she can tell, is now bleeding.

“Y/N!” Ominis rushes over to Y/N, holding his wand to her, scanning the damage. His hand gently holds her face while he casts a quick spell, seeing if she was harmed anywhere else.

Sebastian starts rushing towards Y/N before Ominis casts Depulso at him, sending Sebastian flying into some barrels. His hand never leaves Y/N’s face.

“I have some wiggenweld. Just a moment, please.” Ominis digs in his pocket, removing his hand from Y/N. She sighs, missing the warmth of him. He finds the potion before opening it and having Y/N tilt her head back to take it. He pours it into her mouth, caressing her face once again, sliding his thumb back and forth holding her chin. Once she swallows, he plants himself in front of her, between her knees. One hand on hers, the other on her cheek.

“Are you alright?” Ominis asks, his voice quiet, nervous almost. The wiggenweld helped reduce the pain, along with the bleeding coming to a stop. The wound started repatching itself.

“Yeah! I’m fine!” Sebastian yells, standing up and dusting himself off.

“I didn’t ask you.” Ominis’ voice was never full of malice. Maybe not until now.

“I-I’m alright.” Y/N manages to say, not used to Ominis sounding angry. Not unless he was discussing his family. Even then, he sounded pained, not mad.

“See, your fiancée is fine.” Sebastian’s voice is almost teasing.

“No thanks to you.” Ominis places his wand on the lounge, bringing a hand up to Y/N’s shoulder and the other back to her face.

‘Good’ Ominis thinks to himself moving his fingers along the smooth skin of Y/N’s shoulder.

“Breathe,” Ominis says and he nudges Y/N slightly, indicating he was talking to her. She lets out a shaky breath.

“Well, I should go back to the common room. Don’t want to get in the crossfire, again.” Y/N says, glaring at Sebastian. To which he glares back at her.

“I shall walk you,” Ominis says, standing up to help Y/N stand. He takes a step back, offering his hand to her. Y/N takes it gracefully and hands Ominis his wand back. Ominis helps Y/N to her feet before taking her books off the lounge.

“But we weren't finished-” Sebastian starts before he gets cut off.

“We concluded the duel when Y/N got hurt.” Ominis starts walking to the gate of the Undercroft, Y/N following in toe. Ominis takes his robe off the rack, placing it gently over Y/N’s shoulders.

“Oh, Ominis, I’m alright-” Y/N begins to protest before Ominis interrupts her,

“Your shirt is cut, I would feel better if you were to have my robe.” Y/N just nods and looks at her feet. Ominis enters the lift and as Y/N does she sends a quick Rictusempra at Sebastian, causing him to double over in forced laughter.

Y/N smirks before feeling the lift rise, leaving the other Slytherin to deal with the effects of the spell.

The walk back to the Slytherin common room was fairly quiet. Some students were still mulling around, but not many. Y/N finds comfort in Ominis’ robes, wrapping them tighter around herself in the cold, damp dungeon hallways. When they arrive at the common room, the snake crawls up the wall, revealing the passageway. Ominis notions for Y/N to walk in first.

‘Ever the gentleman.’ She thinks before stepping into the room, descending the staircase leading to the main portion of the communal area.

“Do you want me to bring these to your room?” Ominis quietly says.

“Oh, I can take them.” Y/N places her hand on the stack of books, Ominis’ grip doesn’t relent.

“It’s really no problem.” He smiles at her.

“Well, if you insist.” Y/N walks to her dorm room, opening the door for Ominis to enter, he waits for her too. She rolls her eyes before stepping through the threshold.

“If you could place them on my desk, that would be lovely.” Y/N takes her shoes off, happily getting rid of them.

“Of course,” Ominis slides the books onto her desk before turning back to face her. “Are you sure you’re alright? I can take you to the Hospital Wing if needed.”

“Ominis, I promise, I’m okay,” Y/N takes a step towards Ominis. “Oh, before I forget…” Y/N unclasps the robe and before Ominis places his hand on Y/N’s.

“Uh… y-you can keep it. I’m sure you look better in it than I do.” Ominis’ fingers graze Y/N’s engagement ring. Y/N trains her eyes on his fingers. Focusing on the delicate touch they leave behind as he begins to fiddle with the ring.

Y/N thinks back to a time when everything seemed simpler. Before she was “technically” engaged to her now best friend and for sure not crush, Ominis Gaunt. Before she understood the weight of not being able to choose who she was going to be with for the rest of her life. Before her heart was taken by the boy in front of her.

Their first meeting was rather… odd. Ominis’ mother was nothing short of kind to Y/N. Which now, after hearing all the things she’s done to Ominis, she thinks less of her. Marvolo, Ominis’ brother, was quick to tease the two, despite him also being engaged to someone he didn’t choose. However, whenever Y/N was around, everything seemed… brighter. Ominis would engage with his family, Marvolo would be tolerable, and Y/N’s mother would stop complaining.

Now… everything was different. She knew she was going to marry the Gaunt. His last name carrying an amount of notoriety that she wasn’t entirely comfortable with. However, he seemed okay with leaving the name behind.

‘When did we get so close?’ Y/N thinks to herself. Ominis’ face was so close to hers, she could see every beauty mark, every dimple, every imperfection. Not that he had any. She barely noticed how he was now holding her hand, cradling it almost. She was too enraptured by his beauty, not only internally but externally too.

Ominis runs his fingers over Y/N’s slowly, feeling one of his family’s heirlooms on hers. A gift he had once given her. While they had been engaged since before either were born, she wasn’t required to wear a ring. Ominis could hear how people talked about her. Beautiful, smart, ambitious, talented.

Ominis wasn’t necessarily possessive, or at least he believes he’s not. So, he got the ring from his Aunt Noctua and proposed. Y/N wasn’t overly emotional when he proposed. He had to propose in front of his family so Y/N more so had to act like she was excited. Y/N’s mother was more excited than Y/N was. The Black family aren’t necessarily making waves with anyone but they were certainly influential in the wizarding society.

The Gaunts had been friends with the Black family for years. So when Mrs. Gaunt got pregnant the same time Mrs. Black did, it was the perfect opportunity for the families to conjoin.

Ominis’ hand slowly travels up Y/N’s arm, leaving a burning trail behind. He brings his hand to her face, slowly moving his thumb around her quickly blushing face.

A throat clearing made them jump away from each other. Y/N wrapped her hand around one of the poles on her bed and Ominis bringing his hand to the back of his neck.

“Hi Imelda…” Y/N pushes her chest out trying to look confident and her voice wavering slightly. Imelda lays on her bed on the other side of the room.

“Black. Gaunt.” Imelda eyes Y/N up and down, not bothering to look at the boy between them.

“Well, I should go.” Ominis scrambles out of the room quickly. Y/N and Imelda watch him go. As soon as he’s out and shuts the door, they hear his footsteps retreat down the iron stairs.

“So… just friends still?” Y/N picks up a throw pillow before tossing it at Imelda.

“Shut up.” Imelda cackles before she and Y/N start talking about their day.

———————————————————————————

Weeks go by, snow falling harder at the encroaching holiday season. Sebastian, Ominis, and Y/N sit together in the Great Hall.

“Sebastian, can you pass the pumpkin j-” The trio is met with the familiar caw of the Gaunt owl. Noctua, affectionately named by Ominis, honoring his aunt.

An envelope, wrapped around Noctua. She lowers herself to the table, in front of Ominis.

“Hello, love,” Ominis says, bringing his hand to pet the owl for a moment. Noctua’s ruffling her feathers. Ominis carefully takes the letter off of her, a small bit of thin rope coming off with the letter. Noctua walks onto Ominis’ arm before he raises it, helping her take off.

Ominis’ fingers move across the back of the envelope, feeling the crest of the House of Gaunt. His eyebrows furrowing and a frown evident on his face.

“Family?” Y/N says quietly, placing a comforting hand to Ominis’ arm.

“Yes. I’m not particularly excited about whatever they want.”

“Do you want me to read it?” Y/N offers, placing her hand on the letter.

“If you could, thank you.” Ominis lets go and Y/N takes it. Carefully, she breaks the seal of the envelope. The letter isn’t particularly long which is slightly unusual for the family. She flipped it over and casted Revelio, hoping the spell would reveal some kind of hidden script, but no such luck. Y/N clears her throat before starting.

‘Dear My Good Son Ominis,

I expect to see you and your fiancée, Y/N over the Christmas break. Her family is not able to host her this year, so we are going to at the Gaunt Manor. Please bring warm clothes along with anything Miss Y/N may need.

Warmest Regards,

Mother’

“Well, I suppose I’m not staying with my family over the holidays,” Y/N says, disappointed. She didn’t dislike her family. They are more than tolerable. However, she doesn’t see the reason she must stay with the Gaunts and not at Hogwarts.

“We can stay here… or… or go to Feldcroft with Sebastian.” Ominis gives options, but Y/N just shakes her head.

“No, no. It’s quite alright. We can go to the Gaunt Manor. Maybe… maybe it’ll be fun.” Ominis’ hand finds Y/N’s and she gives him a comforting squeeze. Sebastian clears his throat but the two don’t pull apart.

“If you’re having a terrible time, you can always come join me and Anne.”

“Thank you for the offer, Sebastian. I’m sure everything will be fine though.” Y/N waves Sebastian off with her other hand.

“Yes, it seems my family tends to be… kinder… when you’re around.” Ominis lifts Y/N’s hand to his mouth and kisses it. He lets go and goes back to his meal. Y/N is still after he kisses her hand. A blush made its way to her face faster than a golden snitch. Sebastian seemed too engrossed in his meal to point out Y/N’s quickly reddening face.

“It’s settled then.” Y/N smiled, bringing her fork to her mouth.

———————————————————————————

“Are you cold? Did you forget your gloves?” Ominis’ voice rings out in Y/N’s ears.

“A bit, yes and it appears I did,” Ominis frowns before taking his gloves off and putting them on Y/N’s hands.

“But now your hands will be cold, Ominis.” He holds out his arm for her to take, which she accepts. She places her other hand on his arm, bringing him closer to her for added warmth

“Better, yes?” Y/N’s face goes scarlet and stutters out,

“Y-yes. Yep. Better.”

“Lovely.”

The two walk through the gates of the Gaunt Manor. There’s a light snowfall. Y/N keeps taking quick glances at Ominis, his cheeks glowing from the cold. The air is crisp and bites at the couple's cheeks. The courtyard is surrounded by tall, ancient trees that are now adorned with a layer of powdery snow. The tree branches sway gently in the wind, causing snow to fall from the branches and create a serene atmosphere.

In the center of the courtyard, a beautiful fountain stands, now frozen over and covered in snow, giving the impression of a snow-draped sculpture. Its water spouts are now quiet, frozen in place by the cold. The snow-covered ground is a beautiful contrast of white and dark stone, with a few patches of greenery poking out here and there.

The buildings surrounding the courtyard are stately, with tall and imposing stone walls. The snow adds a beautiful accent to their already impressive architecture, creating a peaceful and idyllic winter scene. The stairs are slippery but with the hold they have on one another, they stay upright.

Y/N politely knocks on the door before placing her hand back on Ominis’ arm. The door swings open to reveal Marvolo, Ominis’ older brother.

“Y/N! Lovely to see you!” Marvolo exclaims, rushing the couple inside.

“Marvolo, how are you?” Ominis moves behind Y/N, having her shrug off her coat for him to hang up.

“I’m well, I’m well. How is Hogwarts? Are you still planning on being a professor?” Y/N giggles at the excitement of the older brother, who’s normally a pain.

“I’m not entirely sure yet-”

“Are Ominis and Y/N here?” Ominis’ eldest sister comes sliding into the room, wrapping her arms around the younger girl. The sister pushes back slightly to get a better look at Y/N.

“You look so beautiful! Oh, Merlin, I haven’t seen you in ages. You’ve gotten taller!”

“It’s been ages, it’s lovely to be here. Thank you for having me.”

“Of course. Let me go get Mother, I’ll be back in a moment.” The sister drags Marvolo out of the room to help search for their mom.

“Oh, darling, let me help you. Your tie got all crooked.” Y/N stands in front of Ominis, readjusting his tie. He takes her hands and slides the gloves off, placing them in his coat pocket before placing it on the coat rack.

“Are you alright?” Y/N whispers, her face close to Ominis’.

“I am. I’m glad you’re here.” He smiles. While, yes, he is happy she’s here with him, he does wish it were under different circumstances. Not the ones his family placed on him before he had a choice. He wishes he could bring her here as his girlfriend, not as his chosen wife. He wanted them to develop feelings over time. Now, more than anything, he’s worried she hates him for what his family has put upon them. If she did hate him though, she had a funny way of showing it.

“Well, I’m glad I’m here too. It’ll be fun. Right?” Ominis nods, not finding any words to answer her question. He raises his arm to her once again, her casually finding her place next to him as if it didn’t make Ominis’ heart beat out of his chest.

“My dear boy! Y/N! So glad you made it alright. The weather was absolutely horrible this morning. Seems you brought the sun with you.” Ominis’ mother beams at the two. Y/N can tell that she clocked the two standing close next to each other and looks more than pleased.

“Oh, yes. The trip was rather scenic.” Ominis’ mother brings Y/N in for a tight hug before moving to her son. She wasn’t a very affectionate woman but Y/N did seem to bring out a side of her that Ominis wasn’t used to.

“I’m sure, I’m glad the carriage found you both well. Did the coachmen help with your bags?” Ominis’ mother turned around snapping at a few house elves to fetch everyone some tea.

“Yes, they took them for us.” Ominis sits down, bringing Y/N down with him. He moves his hand to find hers. It wasn’t intentional, just being home reminded him of so many awful things. Of everything really. He knew his hearing would start to give out if he thought about it for too long. Y/N kept him grounded, her thumb making its way back and forth across his hand.

He’s not sure how long he’s sitting there. His hand in hers. It feels right and he knows it's right. Her giggle, the way he can hear her smile, hear her blush. The way she never stops comforting him even when she’s being bombarded with a million questions.

He felt Y/N stand and pull him to his feet. He followed her like a lost puppy. Her scent enraptured him. She made him feel safe. Even when he knew he wasn’t. The Gaunts were not people you could feel safe around. He came back to reality when the scent of lavender got lost with the scent of dinner.

Ominis pulls out Y/N’s chair for her. He then slides into his own chair, moving it as close to her as he can, not wanting to bring attention to it but needing to be near her.

Dinner, truthfully, couldn’t have been slower. Ominis was thankful for the attention to not be on him, and for Y/N to be so quick to answer. Every now and then Y/N and Ominis’ hands would brush by. Y/N knew she was blushing but she hoped everyone would just think it was because of the attention she’s receiving.

“Thank you for the dinner. I’m going to wash up and head to bed if that’s alright. Today was just a lot of traveling.” Y/N smiled and stood up, taking hers and Ominis’ plates to the kitchen.

“Of course! Marvolo will show you to your room.” Marvolo stands and ushers Y/N down the hall.

The room is dark and moody, with heavy curtains covering the windows, casting the room in a dim light. The walls are painted a deep, rich forest green and adorned with ornate patterns.

The bed is the centerpiece of the room, with a grand, four-poster bedframe made of dark wood and draped with luxurious fabrics in dark grays and greens. The bedding is piled high with plush pillows and soft, heavy blankets, creating an inviting and cozy atmosphere, despite its exterior.

The room is decorated with antique furniture, a wooden dressing table with a large mirror, a high-backed armchair, and a matching set of drawers with intricate carvings. The windows are framed with heavy drapes, adorned with tassels and fringes, which can be drawn shut to create a sense of privacy.

The lighting in the room is soft and warm, with lamps and candles casting a golden glow throughout the space. The room has a fireplace, adding warmth and comfort to the ambiance.

In the corner of the room, there’s a record player, one Y/N had brought over a few years ago.

“If you need anything, please let us know.” Marvolo flashes a quick smile before stepping out. Y/N goes over to her bags, noticing Ominis’ on the bed as well.

‘Great. This is so great. I’m… happy.’ She forgot about how she has to share the bed with the Gaunt boy every time she stays here. Even when they were younger. It’s become more comfortable now. Y/N thinks back to a time when she woke up with Ominis’ arm around her. She wanted to indulge herself, fall back asleep, but she wanted to save him the embarrassment in case he didn’t mean to do that.

“Love, are you… decent?” Y/N giggles at Ominis’ choice of words.

“Yep, come in,” She turns around and sees the door open, Ominis walks in and makes his way to the bed.

“I’m just going to shower real quick, I hope you don’t mind,” Ominis shakes his head. He hears her footsteps begin to retreat before he quickly grabs her wrist, moving to her hand. His fingers finding it’s way to his aunt's ring once again. They stay there for a moment, Y/N’s eyes studying Ominis’ face. Trying to get any sort of understanding from what's happening.

“Ominis?” Her voice is quiet.

“Thank you, for being here. I think you just make everything better by just being around. No, sorry. You do make everything better by being around.” Y/N’s face breaks out in the familiar heat once again.

“Oh, darling, you know I’ll always be around for you. Always.” She pulls him in for a hug, to which he reciprocates. Her hands slide into his hair, scratching his scalp and sending shivers down his spine. Ominis breathes her in. Wanting to get lost in her for as long as he can.

“Can we just stay here a moment?” Ominis’ voice comes out a bit shaky, afraid of her answer.

“Always.” She places a kiss on his cheek before settling her head against his chest, letting her arms drape around his neck. He keeps his arms around her waist, holding her as tight to him as he possibly can without hurting her. That is until he feels her pull away slightly.

“I’m very sorry, I didn’t mean to make you-” He gets cut off by feeling her lips press against his. Just as fast as they were there, they’re gone. Y/N’s eyes try to read his face and she bites her lip, waiting for him to say something.

Anything.

“Ominis, I-” Before Y/N can continue, Ominis’ mouth is on hers, it's as if time stands still for them. The pining, the fingertips brushing, the shared nights. Their embrace is passionate, yet tender, as if they are savoring each and every moment. The electricity between them is palpable, their bodies pressing against each other as they hold on tightly, unwilling to let go.

Their kiss is filled with a mix of intensity and tenderness, as if they are trying to convey all the emotions they've been feeling for so long through this one act. Ominis’ hands pull Y/N closer as her hands get lost in his hair. They've both been waiting for this moment, and the anticipation has been building up for so long that it's almost overwhelming. It’s dizzying. Their kiss is filled with longing and desire, yet it's also filled with a sense of relief and contentment.

As they finally break apart, their foreheads rested against one another as they try to catch their breath. They know that they've finally crossed a threshold and that their lives will never be the same again. They hold each other tightly, basking in the warmth of each other's embrace, and knowing that they will never have to be apart again.

“Uh, I uhm… I kinda like you, Ominis.” Y/N manages to say once she gets her breathing fairly under control. While it’s not exactly what she was feeling, she felt as if she needed to say something.

“If I can be honest, I think I’m in love with you.” Ominis steps back slightly, taking Y/N’s hands in his. He slides the ring off her finger before getting down on one knee.

“I know we’ve done this before, however, then I didn’t have the right words to say to you. I didn’t know how to tell you that I am in love with you. I believe I was then as well, and now, it’s only grown. You’ve been there for me when I couldn’t be for myself. You talk to me as if I’m anyone else, yet, I feel special whenever you talk to me. Your aura is intoxicating. I find it hard to not be near you. The moment you leave, I lose a part of me. I long for the moments when you’re near me again. I think I was okay with our arrangement in the past couple of years because I knew, even if you hated me, I would be yours. I didn’t care how much you didn’t want to be around me because I knew my heart would still belong to you. Maybe it was pure destiny that we are to be wed. Maybe it’s dumb luck. But if I get to spend the rest of my life with you, I would do it. I will be whoever you need me to be. I’d leave my family behind. I’ll go wherever you want. I just want to be with you, love.”

Y/N’s eyes swell with tears that immediately pour over, she pulls Ominis up from his knees and kisses him softly.

“Will you be mine?” Ominis whispers against her mouth, holding the ring in his hand still.

“Darling, I was always yours.” Ominis breaks out into a smile before pulling Y/N into a kiss again. He slides the ring onto her finger before bringing his hands to her hair, tangling it. Y/N brings her hands to his chest before she feels his tongue slide into her mouth, deepening the kiss. Ominis pulls back suddenly.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Ominis!” Y/N not used to hearing Ominis curse. “What?”

“I owe Sebastian 100 Galleons.”

#ominis imagine #ominis x mc #ominis smut #ominis x reader #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis hogwarts legacy #ominis x y/n #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis gaunt imagine #ominis x you #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #ominis #hogwarts legacy sebastian #Spotify

405 notes · View notes

ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 3 months

Text

"Time & the Trickster" A Loki/Doctor Who crossover

Chapter 6: Two If By Sea

Loki makes a mistake that costs you dearly. You find the clock ticking as your one chance to get out of Boston is put in jeopardy by a bad decision, and you're the only hope Loki has left to save the day.

CHAPTER WARNING: Reader has another panic attack

Previous Chapter · Next Chapter MASTERLIST

You awoke to a delicious smell wafting from the bedside table. Blinking groggily back into the Land of the Conscious, your eyes took a minute to focus themselves.

“I found breakfast,” said a soft, gentle voice. Loki’s. “I thought I’d do the work and allow you to sleep. You looked rather peaceful, and I know peace has been scarce the past few days. I didn’t want to jeopardize any fleeting chance you had for some.”

The mammoth structure now fully visible before you had your wordless mouth hanging open. It was nothing short of a tower of varied breakfast (and…non-breakfast?) foods all in one styrofoam tray. The piece of edible art looked entirely too fancy to be housed in such plebeian packaging.

“Is…that…caviar?” you mumbled.

“The owner of the diner said it was a…Mermaid Benedict? For such an un-magicked world, I was surprised to learn that you have mermaids…and that you consume their eggs!”

“Whu…what diner?”

“The...uh…Black Sail, I think?”

You shot up upon hearing the name of the most notorious breakfast spot in town. The Black Sail, famous for how A-listers frequently patronized the place for brunch when they were passing through town. The Black Sail, famous for home fries that cost more than a monthly mortgage payment.

“Awww geez, how much was it?”

Loki shrugged as he came to sit beside you on the bed, throwing a paper napkin over your lap, clearly unable to sense the less-than-pleased tone of your voice.

“Ninety credits? I simply gave them what was left in the wallet.”

“WHAT?!” You jumped up, shocked. “Loki, tell me this was all you got!”

He shrugged. “I thought Joey would return with more money, so I…got one for each of you.”

You nearly passed out. “Oh…oh…Loki…that was really all that was in the wallet, wasn’t it?”

He nodded silently, his face unyielding. “I didn’t realize. I…oh…”

Your anxiety disorder was beginning to give birth to itself again, and the realization that Loki had mistakenly spent your entire cash stash on two overstuffed seafood brunch towers was triggering you again.

Before the heat in your face could spread throughout your chest, you felt a cold hand on yours, gently pulling you back to the bed.

“Joey isn’t here, but I am…”

Somehow, the mantra worked, and your tremors were already beginning to ebb. You began rhythmically sucking in breaths and letting them out, not realizing that Loki was watching you with concern and mirroring your breaths to a lesser degree.

“Norns, Y/N, I shouldn’t have, and I’m truly--”

You threw up a quiet hand, not needing his frantic apologies to add to the tension in the room. Instead, after signaling for him to be silent, you gripped his hand tightly and continued grounding yourself, trying to bring yourself around without your brother’s help.

After several minutes of silence, your senses slowly crawled back, although your head was roaring. Loki suggested that you have water, but you disagreed.

“Let’s just eat these,” you countered as you indicated the pair of expensive meals beside you, “May as well,” you sighed sadly.

You hated how you were stranded in Boston without a penny, your brother missing, and your teenage obsession putting his arm around you with concern in his eyes at your near-breakdown. How FUCKING embarrassing! Could things get worse?

No, because now you not only had no money for a boat, but now you had no money for a train back to New York, nor any for a few extra nights in the hotel. Things COULDN’T get any worse!

As you and Loki ate in awkward silence, Joey finally returned, beaming.

“Hey Sis, guess what?” he said, proud of something. You gave him an exaggerated questioning look to make up for the fact that you couldn’t reply with your mouth full of egg. “I got us a boat! No charge!”

You nearly spat the egg out, but Loki spoke for you: “No charge?”

Joey nodded. “Turns out, the guys Paulie knows owe him a solid, and he’s willing to cash it in for us!”

Finally managing to swallow, the large chunk of masticated food proving difficult to get past the back of your throat at first. “What’s the catch?” you asked. “There’s got to be one.”

“We have to leave tonight, and we have to meet them at O’Paddy’s this afternoon, discreetly.”

“I see,” you said with mild disappointment. So, you were going to have to do this illegally after all. But what choice did you have now with no money? You only had three days with the room, and admittedly, the idea of getting the hell out of Boston after only being here a day was appealing.

Loki looked hopeful at the development, which was enough for you. You still felt a pang of guilt inside for making him worry, and for making him feel guilty about his screw-up.

“Fine, but if they turn out to be Han Solo and Chewbacca, I’m leaving and taking a raft to London.”

For being a weekday evening, O’Paddy’s was quite crowded. A piano instrumental of ‘Come Out, Ye Black and Tans’ twinkled proudly from a small man playing in the corner, two older men sitting at a table nearby toasting the player with their beers. Several businessmen in half-discarded suits were complaining about their days at the close-end bar. A few college students circled around a basket of fried appetizers. A few older-looking guys were at the far end of the bar, eyes glued to the sports highlights playing on the mounted TV in the corner. Despite the no-smoking sign on the door, there was a vague odor of stale tobacco about the room. It was still only about 5pm, but the pub was so compact and tucked away from any light, it felt as if you would step outside to find it was midnight.

It was the most Bostonian place you could imagine finding yourself in.

“So, where are they?” you asked, leaning over and muttering in Joey’s ear, but he was already scanning the room.

“They’re both in the booth over past the piano man,” Joey said, taking your hand. “C’mon, Sis!”

You decided to take Loki’s hand with your free one. Not only to keep him close to you, but to help keep you strong in this claustrophobic place. With Joey guiding the three of you down the center of the pub, you hoped no one around would connect Loki’s face to anything familiar.

As promised, past the piano player’s station was a corner booth tucked behind a wooden column. It looked a bit naturally suspicious to you, like on any other day this would be a mafia boss’ hangout spot. The energy of the spot was a bit off to you, but you still weren’t quite used to the environment.

You just didn’t do well in small, crowded places. You actually hated bars. If you were to go out with your friends, you would have preferred getting drinks at a sit-down restaurant, where at least there would be room between tables to breathe a little.

Sitting in the booth were a man and woman with the same fiery red hair. They looked at Joey with narrow, suspicious eyes.

“You Joey?” asked the woman.

Joey nodded. “Yeah, I’m Paulie Mac’s friend. This is my sister Y/N, and this is Lo…um…Lo…man.”

You rolled your eyes. You couldn’t have come up with a fake name people will believe?

You extended your hand to shake each of theirs, and the man invited you to sit. “We got Irish nachos, they’ll be out any minute if you want.”

“No thanks,” you said, still somewhat full from the monster brunch you’d had earlier courtesy of Loki.

“You’d probably better eat up, especially if we’re buying,” warned the woman, lowering her voice and leaning in over the table. “We don’t like weighing down the boat with a ton of unnecessary shit. It’ll be whatever you can throw in a microwave for the next few weeks.”

“Are you saying food is unnecessary?” you raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Yes, and so is this favor,” replied the man, which shut you up.

Joey threw up a hand. “Hey, be cool, it’s been an insane week for all of us. We’re all a bit defensive right now.”

After a waitress brought out a heaping plate of waffle fries loaded down with bacon, cheese, scallions, and sour cream, you got down to business, the noises from the piano player covering your scheming.

Loki looked at you. “You should do as they say and at least try to have something.” He punctuated the gentle request by grabbing a large fry between two long, lean fingers, and slowly inserting it between his lips. You giggled when you saw that he’d left some cream on the corner of his lip. Being bold, you took a single finger and wiped it away softly.

It’s not fair, he shouldn’t be this adorable, you moaned in your mind. The tender moment led to a look that you and Loki shared…one that sent your brain into a hot fuzz.

You did as Loki suggested and followed suit, taking a plate and setting a small portion of the appetizer in front of yourself to satisfy him. Joey raised a curious brow before shrugging it off and moving on.

“I’m Shane, and this is Carrie,” said the ginger man, indicating the snarky woman next to him. “Yes, we’re a couple, and no, we aren’t related. The hair’s just incidental.”

Carrie supplemented him by adding, “Just so you know, we’re here because we smuggle things. The less you know beyond that, the better, but it’s how we know how to get past the Coast Guard.”

“And how exactly do we do that?” you asked.

“Very delicately,” said Shane. “And tonight might be the worst night of the year to do this, but it may be our only shot--”

“--unless you want to hang out for another three weeks or so,” added Carrie, taking a waffle fry and nibbling on the corner. “But from what we’ve heard, time’s a factor here.”

Loki took another piece for himself. “Why is it so difficult to move out tonight?”

Carrie rolled her eyes. “The Coast Guard starts their annual drills offshore in the morning. It goes on for a while, but it makes getting into international water almost impossible without paperwork or clearance.”

Shane leaned back and crossed his arms. He had very large biceps that strained against his muscle shirt. “We have papers, but our boat isn’t exactly full of hiding places.”

“And someone like Loman here might have trouble blending in anywhere we dock,” Carrie added.

“Wait,” asked Loki, “You’re smugglers and yet your boat doesn’t have any hiding places?”

“Loman, it might be wise not to ask any unnecessary questions,” Shane warned.

This did not satisfy the Asgardian. “Don’t talk to me like that--”

Carrie interrupted. “--are best hope is to leave after dark. Our boat is tied up at Dock 10. It’s about as far out of the way as you can get. The Coast Guard will begin drills at sunrise, but by then we should at least be beyond Halifax.”

“Get to Dock 10 by no later than 10:30pm,” Shane instructed. “Don’t bring any big bags.”

“And we won’t wait for you if you’re late, either. We need to pick up a few things while we’re over in Europe, so we’re not up for negotiating our departure time.”

“Understood,” said Joey. “We just need time to check out of our hotel room and pack.”

“Got that, Loman?” asked Carrie, eyeing Loki up and down for a moment too long, a moment that both you and Shane noticed with the same ire. “You don't seem particularly quick on the uptake.”

The comment seemed to offend Loki, who looked at you and stood up without another word. “I’ll bring us a round of drinks,” he offered, his tone restrained.

“How are you going to pay for that?” you asked, only to be ignored.

Loki moved past the piano, not watching exactly where he was going. The musician happened to rise at the same time Loki stepped into his path, and as the God was much taller and heavier than the middle-aged mortal, it was the piano player who was knocked back, causing his arm to knock his tip jar off of the piano, sending it shattering on the wood floor.

“WHAT THE HELL?” the man shouted, scrambling to his feet.

Loki turned back and shrugged. “I didn’t see you there--”

“--well, you see me now, punk?” the irate, slightly-intoxicated man challenged, throwing a wild, unaimed fist in Loki’s general direction. It missed wide, but Loki had to lean back in order to avoid it, and that was enough for him to lower his eyebrows in a way that you were familiar with.

He made that face while confronting Thor on Asgard. He made it again while fighting Malekith, Hela, and Thanos…

You cringed and grabbed Joey’s arm. “Oh shit, he’s going to--”

Loki flicked his wrist upward instinctually, which, of course, produced nothing (although the time stone in his pocket began to twinkle). When he tried it twice more to no avail, Loki responded with physical defense, shoving the man back with a firm palm on his shoulder.

“HEY! HANDS OFF ME, ASSHOLE!” hollered the man, drawing the attention of several more patrons, as well as the bartender. The second punch got closer to Loki’s face.

Joey stood up and ran over. You were hoping he intended to pull Loki away from the upset man. Instead, he grabbed an empty beer bottle on his way over and merrily chucked it at the piano player’s head. “Fuck you!” he shouted.

Jesus Christ, Joey! Not now!

Turning back, you saw Shane and Carrie getting up, putting a ten dollar bill on the table, and moving aside as Joey and Loki began to tag-team the drunk piano man. Other patrons were leaping on top of all three of them while the bartender made for the phone on the wall behind him.

Carrie looked particularly angry at the rowdy turn of events. “You’re going to fucking get us arrested, you clowns!”

“10:30pm, and not a second later,” Shane confirmed before leading Carrie away discreetly.

“I hate you.”

Here you were for the second time this week, staring at Joey and Loki from behind a set of metal bars. At least Loki had pants on this time.

It was 8:45pm, less than two hours before your rendezvous, and two-thirds of your party were stuck in a drunk tank so far away from the bay that if you left and ran without stopping or grabbing your belongings at the hotel, you would hardly make it.

And that still wasn’t the most dire part of your situation: you couldn’t make bail.

“...sorry, Sis,” mumbled Joey, his head down.

“Sorry? SORRY?!” you screamed, pacing back and forth in front of the bars. “You do realize that this is over now, right? All of this! All of this work and traveling is for nothing!

“How do you mean ‘over’?” Loki asked with concern.

You looked at him with utter disbelief. “I HAVE NO BAIL MONEY! FOR EITHER OF YOU!” Your stress was different this time, manifesting in tears and choppy sobs. “I can’t save you, and time is almost up! Unless we somehow break you out in the next few minutes--”

Loki ran over and grabbed your arm as you walked past. “Listen to me, Y/N,” he cut you off with a low voice, “that is exactly what you need to do!”

You looked at him through your frantic tears, shaking your head nervously. “No…I can’t!”

“Y/N!” Loki’s voice was soothing and melodic as he pulled you up to the bars before reaching through to cup your face in his palm. “I trust you more than anyone in the Realms right now. I know you can do this. I believe in you.”

You sucked in a desperate breath. “You’re just saying that to get me to be brave enough to do it.”

His smile was sweet, with a glint of mischief in his eye. “And is it working?”

“Dammit, Loki, yes!” you whispered, pressing your face against the bars and meeting Loki’s lips with yours. You only took a second to deliver the kiss, but you would have moved heaven and earth to make it an eternal moment.

You remained close to the bars as you withdrew your lips. “I…I think they keep the keys behind the guard’s desk. Beyond the metal door.”

“Cause a distraction so that you can get to that desk, Y/N, and do whatever it takes. Think about what I would do, and do it fast,” Loki instructed.

You nodded. Loki took a finger and tapped it three times against the tarot pendant you still wore about your neck. “Remember, you are my hope. You are my star.”

How could you possibly accomplish this magnificently illegal task when all you wanted to do was melt through the bars and fall into his arms? Nevertheless, you managed to pull yourself away and spin around on your heels.

“Go get ‘em, Sis, and hurry!” Joey encouraged you from behind. You fought the urge to flip him off as you sprinted away. After all, he chose to escalate the fight in the bar and turned a scrap into a 911-worthy breakup.

You were fast thinking when you had to be, but when it came to improvising jailbreaks, you came up short. Nervously, you wondered what kind of distraction you could possibly cause while also going for the keys. You kept running down the long line of holding cells until you turned a corner, running further down until you came by the only other cell with occupants.

Two skinny middle-aged tweakers were leaning against the wall. They barely twitched when you came up to the door.

“What you want?” asked the taller of the two, his Bostonian accent so thick you could barely understand it.

“I need you two to freak out so much that the guards all come over here,” you asked, immediately realizing how stupid it sounded.

“Uh, why should we do that?” asked the other.

Your head spun. Loki had advised you to do something he would do…

What WOULD Loki do? Ugh, sexy, sexy Loki…

You suddenly thought of Danielle from the bookstore, and how easily Loki had managed to charm her out of nearly a thousand dollars. You bit your lip and couldn;t believe what you were about to do, but only one course of action came to mind, and you got the feeling it was absolutely something that Loki would do.

“Because I’ll let you look at these!”

You flipped up your shirt, revealing your simple white bra that you’d had so long, it was a cup size too small. As a result, it really deepened your cleavage, making them look bigger than perhaps they were.

“Ooooh shit, Bill!” hooted the taller druggie. “She must really need our help!”

The other one chuckled and whistled, slowly getting up from the wall and exaggerating a bow. “My lady, we’re at your service! What can we do for ya?”

“Freak the fuck out, and do it fast!” you implored, rolling your shirt back down. The two men looked at each other and grinned at each other knowingly, showing off their decaying teeth.

“My lady, you got it.”

You immediately took off down the hall and snuck around the far corner. From there, you could look one way and see the guard desk, and turn your head the other to have a glimpse of the cell containing your two new allies. You began to hear snarls, screams, and garbled insults from the latter direction. The tweakers were already working.

“Hey, what’s going on?” the guard on duty was getting up from his deck and peeking his head in your direction.

You pointed frantically down the hall. “Those guys tried to grab me and now they’re--!”

The guard was already running off down the hallway past you. The scuffle in the cell beyond was turning physical. You wasted no time leaping behind the desk and shuffling through the four drawers. One was files, one was completely empty.

The third one had several key rings stashed inside, all labeled sloppily with masking tape scribbled over in thick sharpie. You ran your fingers over every one, hoping to god one would be the correct key.

“FUCK IT!” you grunted under your breath, scooping up every single one and taking off, deciding that you’d run out of time.

The holding cells in this precinct were lined up in a circular hallway, so you were able to keep running to the left in order to make it back around to Loki and Joey, who were both gripping the bars and looking anxiously for you since the addicts began acting out their scuffle from further down the way.

“Quick, each of you take some, we need to do this fast,” you bade, handing several key rings to each of the men.

You’d taken five rings in total. You tried yours first, and it didn’t even fit in the keyhole. Loki’s key didn't either. Luckily, Joey was able to cram the keyring he held inside before you needed to try the second key you held.

Everyone dropped their keys at once, and the bustling down the hall came to a stop.

“Hey, what the--?”

“Shit!” Joey hissed.

“Run!” you yelled, grabbing Loki’s wrist and practically dragging him behind you as you doubled back the other way in an effort to avoid the cops.

You found an emergency exit door that led out behind the precinct, and while it instantly set off all of the fire bells in the building, you were able to slip down the street while the rest of the police were scrambling to look for you, as well as whoever pulled the alarm!

While none of you knew particularly where you were going, you traced your way through downtown, heading for the harbor. It was difficult keeping a quick pace, as the nightlife was beginning to emerge from the shadows, crowding the sidewalks. It didn’t help that Boston roads were mapped out like a toddler’s drawing of a cloud. There was no grid, no numbered streets to gauge where in the area you were.

You had no way to tell the time as you found the harbor and began counting the piers and dock numbers. “Now remember, it’s a 50-footer, so it’ll be small…” Joey huffed, out of breath as you jogged along in a sad attempt to pick up the pace.

After about 20 minutes stumbling northward along the shoreline, you finally found Dock 10, and Carrie was waving a flashlight, signaling you as you finally approached.

“Dipshit!” she scowled. “You made us wait until the last minute!”

“What time is it?” Joey nearly spat as he doubled over in exhaustion. You’d never let go of Loki’s wrist, so as soon as you stepped onto the boat, you dropped it.

“Literally 10:28,” Carrie let you know. “No, let’s get out of here, kids.”

You could hear the vague sound of sirens growing closer as the yacht pulled out of the pier and began moving out to open sea. Whether or not they were looking for the three of you, you couldn;t possibly know. Still, the further you pulled away from land, the better, as far as you were concerned.

“I’d go below and get right to bed if I were you, and be sure to turn the lights out right away,” Carrie said simply. “We could still hit the Coast Guard, and if we do, they might not ask to board if it looks like there’s just us.”

“I could sure use it. It;s been a long one, what with bar fights and jailbreak and--”

Joey cut off as he looked at the infuriated look on your face. “--and good night, Sis! Thanks for busting us out!”

As he went down below deck, you were finally able to take a moment to calm yourself. Loki shuffled beside you.

“You were fantastic,” he said to you quietly. “We’re on our way now, thanks to you.”

“I only did what you suggested,” you said modestly.

“Thank you,” he answered, pulling you firmly into his arms and resting his head on top of yours.

While Loki looked absentmindedly at the shrinking lights of Boston Harbor, your head was turned in the opposite direction, looking out ahead of you into the pitch-black ocean.

Suddenly, you didn’t feel so well.

Oof, this was a big chapter! Thanks for your continued support and reblogs! TAGLIST: @crashingwavesofeuphoria @kkdvkyya @red-shirt-mania @misschris1412 @salvinaa @marygoddessofmischief @spiderstyles04 @fireflymoonwitch @mochie85 @loz-3 @lcolumbia1988 @lokilurker @eleniblue @gruftiela @starkzdaughter @mrsbarnes-avenger @thedistractedagglomeration @km-ffluv @lokisgoodgirl @holdmytesseract @itsthattimedarling @wolfsmom1 @scully2u @shinisenko @mischief2sarawr @ririsutty73 @lulubelle814 @meg81589 @gloriuspurposeposts @theonetruepotato87 @linllewellyn @wistfulclueless @etherealkistar @tinydancer40 @hardtravelerwizard-blog @fangirllanie @keegansakura @himek0fallenangel-blog @abeeigrl @theoraekenslover @halfbakedideas

83 notes · View notes

vilentia · 6 months

Text

Unshielded Affection

Steve Rogers x reader

In the heart of Stark Tower, amidst the hum of technology and the occasional clank of Iron Man suits, there you were, a new assistant to Tony Stark. Your presence was a breath of fresh air, a contrast to the rigid mechanics and cold steel that surrounded you. And there he was, Steve Rogers – Captain America himself – with eyes that lingered on you a moment too long, a heart ensnared by your grace.

Steve watched you from afar, his admiration a silent sentinel. In his mind, he had already built a world where you were his and his alone – his girlfriend, his wife, the mother of his children. But for now, he was just a man, albeit a superhuman one, hopelessly entangled in the web of his yearning.

"Good morning, Steve," you greeted him one day, your voice a melody that danced through the air. Polite, ever so kind, yet oblivious to the storm you stirred in him.

"Morning," he replied, his voice a rumble, like distant thunder. "You look... nice today."

You offered a smile, unaware of the depth of his obsession, how he craved to claim you as his own. In his eyes, you were perfection – someone who deserved the world, and he wanted to be the one to give it to you.

But Steve's longing was a shadow that followed him, a whisper in the dark corners of Stark Tower. He imagined conversations, moments where he could confess his feelings, but fear held him back. What if you didn't feel the same? What if he was just another face in the crowd to you?

One evening, as the city lights flickered like distant stars, Steve found you alone in the common area, lost in a book. He approached, heart pounding, a battle raging within him.

"Can I sit here?" he asked, indicating the seat beside you.

"Of course," you replied, your eyes meeting his, a galaxy of kindness within them.

They talked, about everything and nothing – about art, about the world, about dreams. And in those moments, Steve saw glimpses of a future he yearned for, a life where you were his.

But as the clock ticked, reality crept in. Steve knew he couldn't keep you in his world of fantasies. He had to act, to speak his truth.

"(Y/N), I need to tell you something," Steve began, his voice laced with a vulnerability rarely shown. "I... I've been thinking about you a lot. More than I should, perhaps."

You looked at him, a hint of surprise in your eyes, but you didn't speak.

"I want you in my life, more than just as a friend. I want you to be mine, in every way that matters," he confessed, his blue eyes burning with a fervor that matched the intensity of his words.

The air hung heavy between them, a moment stretched into eternity. And in that silence, Steve's heart raced, waiting for your response, for the verdict that would either make or break him.

In the stillness of the room, your eyes remained fixed on Steve, absorbing the raw honesty that lay bare before you. The confession echoed in your heart, a turbulent sea stirred by his words.

"Steve, I..." you began, your voice a hesitant whisper, caught between the realms of surprise and an unspoken desire. "I never thought someone like you could... could feel that way about me."

His gaze never wavered, a testament to the sincerity of his feelings. "You're not just someone, (Y/N). You're everything I never knew I was missing. I see a future with you, a hope for something more than just battles and missions. With you, I see a life."

Your heart fluttered, a bird trapped within a ribcage, yearning for the freedom his words promised. A part of you had always harbored feelings for the heroic Captain, feelings you dared not acknowledge until this moment.

Steve reached out, his hand hesitantly finding yours. The contact was electric, a connection that seemed to transcend the physical realm, bridging two hearts with a silent understanding.

"I want to be there for you, to protect you, to love you," Steve continued, his voice a fervent plea. "But I need to know... do you feel the same?"

The question hung in the air, a challenge to the walls you had built around your heart. The thought of being with Steve, of being the center of his world, was both exhilarating and terrifying. To be loved by him meant stepping into a life far removed from the ordinary – a life filled with dangers, uncertainties, but also unparalleled passion.

In his eyes, you saw the reflection of your own fears and hopes, a mirror to your soul. "Steve, I... I do have feelings for you," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "But it's all so overwhelming. You're not just a man; you're a symbol, a hero."

Steve's grip on your hand tightened, a silent reassurance. "I'm just a man when I'm with you, (Y/N). A man who wants nothing more than to make you happy, to be the reason you smile. I don't want to rush you into anything. I just want you to know how I feel."

The room faded around you, the world outside ceasing to exist. It was just you and Steve, two souls laid bare in the vulnerability of the moment. The decision loomed ahead, a crossroads that would define the path of your heart.

In Steve's eyes, you saw a future filled with love, challenges, and the promise of a life less ordinary. And in that moment, you realized that perhaps the greatest adventure was not in the battles fought outside, but in the journey of the heart.

"Steve, I want to be with you," you said, the words a leap of faith into the unknown. "Let's take this one step at a time, together."

And with those words, a new chapter began – a story of love between a hero and the one who had captured his heart, a tale of two souls navigating the unpredictable waters of life, together.

143 notes · View notes

expectodragons · 8 months

Text

The Art of Receiving || 18+ Oneshot

✦ Summary: The stress of studying for your final exams is finally getting to you and you're in desperate need of some relief.

✦ Pairing: Aesop Sharp x Female Reader

✦ Word Count: 2,230

✦ Rating: Explicit, 18+ only - minors do not interact.

✦ Tags / Warnings: Age difference, oral sex (f!receiving), PWP, reader is of age, slight power dynamics, student/professor relationship, vaginal fingering.

It was not often you found yourself in use of the bath in the Prefect’s bathroom. The place was a privilege for but a select few students, yourself included. Being a Quidditch Captain did have its benefits, after all. But rarely did you find the time, or the need, to traverse the many steps up to the hidden room.

Today, however, had given you every single reason to seek out the vast warm waters of the pool-like tub.

Exam season was upon the castle and your nerves, in particular, were due to fry if you spent another moment huddled over a dusty tome in the library with your group of fellow seventh-years. Between a series of challenging classes and the overwhelming air of expectation that was placed upon you by your professors, you were a step short of collapsing.

You had felt your eyes blurring together the words of Malinda Haddock and her many essays on the intricacies of advanced Transfiguration in the fifteenth century. Your head had pounded against the table, much to the concern of Poppy who had been working alongside you.

It felt like your mind could consume no more information – a sponge already seeping out water – you were at your fill of knowledge. And nothing the famed witch could say about the difficulties of transfiguring avian creatures into knitting needles could breach your mental walls.

So, with a weary pace, you had found yourself taking the long journey up to the top of the South Wing’s tower. Flicking the spigot on every faucet until the bath filled with technicolor soap and kaleidoscope-colored bubbles floated into the air. Time had passed without your awareness, so lost in the delicious sensation of warm water rippling over your stressed shoulders.

But, when you at last extracted yourself from the lovely bath and had dried and dressed yourself once again, you finally took notice of the time. Curfew was due to start in but a few minutes and dinner was obviously out of the question.

As you descend the spiral staircase, eager to pick up your pace in an effort to make it to your common room before the clock strikes the hour, you find yourself face-to-face with a particular Potion Master.

“Ah,” Sharp says your name in that slow sardonic tone. He peers up at you from his lower position on the staircase.

“Professor Sharp,” you say in polite admonishment.

If he held you up any longer, you would never make it to your common room in time.

Sharp takes a step, and then another. And even though he’s three steps below your position on the landing, he’s fully eye-level with you.

“You were absent from dinner this evening.”

Your chin juts out, ever so slightly, “I was. And if you’ll excuse me, I wish to make it to my dorm before curfew begins, sir.”

The professor gives an amused hum of consideration. You feel your cheeks become aflame with heat with the look he bestows upon you.

Resting a hand on the banister, he leans into the rails, as though he has nowhere to be in a particular hurry.

“How are your study sessions coming along? I believe the entirety of your year has taken over Scribner’s domain this past week.”

With a huff of annoyance, an impatience sending your feet rocking back and forth, you respond with a simple, “Fine.”

“And your classes? You’re keeping up with the workload I imagine?”

“Yes, sir. If you excuse me, please. I really must get going.”

Before you can so much as brush past him on the other side of the staircase, Sharp moves another step forward and takes a gentle hold of your right arm – your skin still radiates the warmth from your long bath and you know he can feel it between his fingers as his thumb begins to rub a steady rhythm against your hammering pulse point.

The two of you rarely appeared together outside of the safety of his office. Where he could lock the doors and cast a simple Muffliato upon the room. Your meetings were cherished, but increasingly rare as the days leading up to the NEWTs kept you away. But here, in the Faculty Tower – on the top landing of the tower, at that – you feel a familiar rush of desire pooling in your stomach as Aesop takes a final step forward.

Towering over you now, you can feel his warm breath upon your face. Smell the comforting aroma of sandalwood and musk that lingers on his robes. You can even see the beginnings of that familiar small smile of his that sends your heart racing anytime he shares it with you.

“You must be exhausted, my dear.”

The firm press of his thumb on your wrist has your knees buckling, lost in the weight of his heavy stare.

“It… has been rather stressful.”

“Hmm,” he hums in return. His charcoal-colored eyes bore into you as if undressing you here in the corridor before he seemed to make a decision – a sudden flicker of interest across his face your only warning.

“Perhaps you are in need of some relief, as it were.”

You gulp, feeling a flood of want surging through your chest. Your neck flushes with warmth and your ears begin to burn as you carefully turn your wrist in his hold until your fingers wrap around his thumb.

“Perhaps, sir.”

With a thin smile, Aesop leads you the few short steps up to his personal chambers.

This was one place you had never adventured before.

There had been two, and only two, separate occasions in your time with the potions professor, where a secret rendezvous occurred outside of his office. Once, in a hidden nook in the Bell Tower when the majority of the school was out on a Hogsmeade trip. And one very heated exchange in the changing rooms after a quidditch match when the rest of your team was headed off to the common room to celebrate your victory.

But this?

You allow your gaze to wander around the red-toned room. Taking in the small things that took up your professor’s private space. It was hardly as neat as you would have assumed it to be. Stacks of papers, bottles, and potion tools littered every available space. A lone chair sat before a blazing fire. A curious glance towards an ajar doorway nearly has your attention before Aesop’s hand cups your face.

“Now…” he intones. “What to do with you?”

Creeping up on your tiptoes, you lean into his touch.

“I could think of a thing or two.”

He chuckles, curling a finger through the damp locks of your hair.

“I imagine you could. However…” his gaze goes distant, seemingly transfixed by the droplets of water that travel from your hair down to his finger.

Giving an experimental tug, he brings you closer – holding onto but a single strand of your hair. You allow yourself to be pulled, pressing up to meet his curved smile as a kiss, almost too sweet, is placed upon your lips.

“Poor, poor girl,” he murmurs against your lips, tilted back just enough to keep him from making contact with your eager mouth. “Drowning under the pressure of your studies. Has no one shown you proper care these past few weeks?”

His snide remarks only have you leaning up to try and join your lips together once again, but he remains stubbornly persistent in refusing you further. Much to his own delight, apparently, as a wolfish grin materializes on his face.

And then his hands are traveling down your sides. Fingers pressing into the curve of your waist, the small swell of your stomach, the dip of your hips. As you wrap your arms around his neck, his head lowered to almost rest upon your shoulder, you feel the cool air of the room caress your legs as you find your skirt being pushed up.

“If only someone was willing to spare you a thought, hmm?” he crones.

Calloused fingers meet your bare skin, following the gentle curve of your inner thighs as they trail higher and higher.

“What have we here?”

You can sense the pleased smile on his face as his fingers delve into the wet heat between your legs – your eyes closing and your head tilting back in delight at the first brush of his knuckle across your lips.

Warm breath tickles your ear as teeth gently tug at the lobe.

“Eager indeed.”

At last, you lean against him, moaning a gentle, “Aesop.”

He smirks, removing his hands – allowing your skirt to fall back into place – as he pulls you toward the door across the room. Walking backward, he presses the entry open and leads you into a smaller room. Your eyes flash across an array of furniture, covered portraits, stacks of cauldrons, and books, before falling upon the bed.

“My darling girl,” he smooths, turning you slowly in his embrace until you find your knees backed into the crimson sheets of his bed.

A gentle press on your shoulder has you sitting down like a good student, while the man before you drops to a single knee. Your hands grip the sheets like a vice as your skirt is rolled up onto the tops of your thighs and two large palms press your knees apart.

Sharp settles there, in the V of your legs, as a hand lazily drags through the warm slick of your desire. Perhaps another clever quip could be said then, but his dark gaze has zeroed in on his own fingers now, and with a muffled cry parting from your lips Aesop leans forward and licks a warm stripe up your quim.

Pulling your fist to your mouth, you bite down on the flesh of your fingers as he repeats the action.

Heated breath grazes your cunt and the pleasant sting of his stubble scrapes the smooth flesh of your thighs as a deep moan rumbles across your womanhood.

His hands wind under your knees as he spreads you further open, his nose brushes against your mound, as he dips his tongue into your quivering hole – scooping up every bit of sweet juice he finds dribbling out of you.

“Oh god,” you cry out.

Your hand falls from your mouth to latch into the silky strands of his dark tresses. Pulling him closer as he starts to work a steady rhythm with his mouth. Buried between your thighs like he was meant to always be there, Aesop moans another gravelly sound as he begins to suck your clit between his swollen lips.

Like a man starved, he finds his fill in the juncture of your legs. Licking up everything you have to give him, his hold upon your thighs leaves crescent-shaped bruises that send another delicious wave of pained pleasure toward your core.

“Yes, oh Merlin, yes!”

Urged on by your desperate cries, the potions professor barrels forward, sucking your button in earnest as you tug his hair into a tight grip. You can feel it, the sweet desperate coil in your core. Soon it will snap and your release will paint your lover’s face.

Rocking your hips to meet him, you find yourself grinding against his lips, though that only seems to encourage him as he flicks his tongue over your clit and stares up at you with that glazed-over heavy expression in his eyes.

Sweat clings to his brow and his hair curtains his face, but all you can focus on are those gorgeous eyes. So drunk on you, your taste, your cunt. You find your bundle curling tighter and tighter, your hips rocking in a frantic pattern, as Aesop sucks down your sweet pleasure.

A rumbling moan sends you over the edge as he dives into you with a fervor.

His tongue, almost too rough now, laps up your desire as your hold on his hair loosens and your legs seem to become leaden underneath you.

Slowly, he pulls back – his chin a wash of cum and spit – as he huffs out a few raggedy breaths. His lips grace your thigh with wet kisses before he finally drops your legs back to the ground and carefully eases himself back up.

Taking a place beside you on the bed – where you are now lounged back, breathing several shuddering gasps – Aesop drags his hand across your torso, fingers snagging on the buttons of your blouse. He walks up your sternum before his thumb finds the curve of your bottom lip and tugs down upon the silky flesh.

“Feeling relaxed, dear one?” he murmurs, watching you with a transfixed sort of expression that spoke of feelings more than just casual fleeting interest and obvious lust.

Huffing a lofty laugh, you shake your head – lulling your head to the side so you can meet his gaze.

“So relaxed, I fear I might not be able to move again.”

His hand trails to the curve of your jaw, where he cups your heated flesh – a lone finger rubbing over the delicate skin of your cheek.

“That would truly be a shame if that were the case.”

“Wouldn’t it just?” you smile brightly. Feeling the ticklish tingle of your legs and the overwhelming sensation of undiluted happiness coursing through you.

Sharp hums once again in agreement before he leans down to place a lingering kiss upon your honey-sweet lips.

#aesop sharp x reader #professor sharp x reader #aesop sharp fanfic #professor sharp fanfic #hphl fanfic #my fic

205 notes · View notes

mrs-snape5984 · 1 month

Text

“I think, I know just what you’re longing for…”

“I may be undone, but nothing seems to undo you…” (“My Thieving Heart” by Sivert Høyem feat. Marie Munroe)

Wow…I’m crawling back to the surface of tumblr, coming from hell. My last crash has been one of the worst so far…I couldn’t stand up, I couldn’t get myself something to drink, I couldn’t eat, I wasn’t even capable of thinking in a proper way. Since I couldn’t even type anymore, I had to ask my sweet friend @vulnus-sanare to help me out by sending messages to some of my friends. I didn’t mean to make anyone feel worried about me, so please forgive me for my long silence.

This beautiful artwork, which I’ve requested from my lovely friend @opalchalice, is based on a dream, which I’ve had some weeks ago. Lia, I’m sorry for the delay, but I wanted to transform my dream into a short one-shot fiction to honour your fabulous work the way, it deserves to be seen. You know, that I’m a fan of your art, my dear….but this one…damn, Lia! You overwhelmed me with this stunning piece of art! Thank you so much for your understanding of my ideas. I’m beyond grateful for our verbal exchanges and I’m proud to call you my friend. You’re so talented and kind, Lia. Please…never change!

Now…back to my dream. Since I’m struggling immensely with brain fog, due to my disease ME/CFS, I noticed that my ability to write seems to fade away. This isn’t my best work and I’m very aware of this fact…so please keep in mind, that I’ve written this under the torture of my sickness and be gentle with me.

TW: smut and a slight mention of lactation kink…well…I leave it like that. 😅

🔞 🚫mdni 🔥💦 (1012 words)

More to love

It was midnight. From afar Julia could hear the faint tintinnabulation of the church tower bells…ringing once…and her bare feet touched the cold grass beneath herself. Twice…and she felt a cold breeze caressing her blushing cheeks. Tilting her head back, Julia closed her eyes and listened to the remaining ten strikes of the clock tower. Her nightdress was billowing in the wind, sending shivers down her spine.

Suddenly Julia sensed some arms coming from behind, tightly wrapped around her waist, when she was pulled back against a tall presence. A surprised gasp left her lips, but the familiar personal scent of her husband soothed her nerves immediately. “What are you doing here alone in the middle of the night, Jules?” Even after so many years, the deep voice of Julia’s husband caused a certain weakness to her knees. Severus‘ hot breath tickled the soft spot behind her ear, leaving goosebumps all over her alabaster skin. „You‘ll catch a cold, darling,” he murmured lovingly, burying his face in Julia’s wild curls. “Mmmh…so divine…,” she heard him whispering hoarsely, his voice was dripping with desire.

Severus’ hands roamed over her tummy, clenching the satiny fabrics of her nightdress in his lustful grasp. “Severus…,” she breathed, pressing her back against his chest. “…this isn’t the right pl…,” but one of his hands silenced her resolutely, whilst his other hand passed the plunging neckline of her nightdress, massaging her voluptuous bosom with a firm grip. “Shhh…stand still and be quiet, Jules,” Severus urged her, playfully pinching her erected nipples, causing a muffled whimper from his wife.

Suddenly, Julia felt two more hands grazing over her bare legs and her eyes widened in disbelief when she perceived another man kneeling beside her, shoving her nightgown up to her waist. But this wasn’t just any man, who touched her so intimately! The silky raven hair…the adorably crooked nose…and oh, those mesmerising obsidian eyes! She didn’t understand how this was even possible, but the man on his knees was no one other than a second version of her very own husband…observing her reactions with a seductive smile on his lips.

Julia couldn’t suppress a guttural moan escaping her lips…smothered by Severus’ hand on her mouth, when bold fingertips brushed against the edge of her panties…pulling them aside in a swift move. Another groan found its way up her throat as soon as a finger dipped into her moist depths. “Gods, you’re already so wet for us, Julia,” the deep voice of her husband cut the silence of the night, a subtle hint of mockery seemed to be layered underneath the lecherous tone of his words.

“Be a good girl and spread your legs for us, Jules,” Severus murmured close to her ear, still holding her in place from behind her back. His hand released her mouth…only to be replaced by his arm, tightly wrapped around her neck. The tickling sensation of Severus’ breath on her delicate skin sent goosebumps all over her body, which didn’t stay unnoticed by him. His amused chuckle echoed through the air, only to be followed by a strict demand: “Wider, Julia! We know, you could never get enough of us…”

Severus’ commanding tone and the mysterious situation left her speechless and aroused. The wetness between her thighs glistened in the moonlight, causing a never known neediness to creep up inside herself.

“Damn…you’re dripping already,” Severus teased her from his kneeling position, before his thumb started to draw circles on her throbbing clit, causing her to moan in delight. “Just give in and enjoy the magic, Jules…,” his dark voice growled and Julia couldn’t make out, who of them said that. The confusion mixed with her growing excitement made her feel slightly light-headed. Two fingers entered her moist entrance, adding a new layer of greediness to her already tense body. While her husband held her in place, his magical likeness drove the redhead crazy with the gentle and yet determined play of his digits….fingering her deliberately slowly…teasing her clit with his thumb until she begged for more. “Oh, gosh….yes! Please, Severus….fuck me! I’m begging you,” Julia whimpered desperately, almost crying from this lustful torture.

Suddenly a third Severus joined the scene. Julia noticed how good he looked with his man bun, a cheeky strand of hair falling over his eye, just like she had seen it countless times before, when her husband was focused on brewing his potions. His voice sounded so mockingly when he approached her, pinching her hardened nipples through the silky fabrics of her nightgown. “Well, well…what do we have here?,” he groaned huskily before he licked over the delicate skin on Julia’s neck. “Damn, you’re truly insatiable, Jules…but so am I!” Ripping off her dress, Severus revealed Julia’s soft, full breasts and bit his bottom lip in anticipation. “Fuck, Jules…you know, what I want…,” he murmured under his breath before his mouth found its destination…embracing her stiffened nipple with hungry eager. “Let me be your good boy, Jules…,” Severus mumbled before he started to suckle greedily until a small trace of milk drooled from the corner of his mouth…causing her legs to tremble.

“Aah! Severus…yes…do with me whatever you want…,” she whimpered needily, closing her eyes in pleasure.

“Oh no, Jules…open your eyes, my darling,” her husband growled from behind her back. “You will watch us, sweetheart…we want you to see everything, what we’re doing with you…and you will enjoy the view until you’re coming undone.” Julia couldn’t do anything else than nodding obediently, when Severus held her in place for his companions…pressing his hard cock against her back….

Suddenly Julia woke up from her naughty dream, with a loud gasp escaping from her mouth. Blinking rapidly, she looked at her familiar surroundings, feeling the soft surface of the bedsheets beneath her bare skin. Her gaze fell on her peacefully sleeping husband on the other side of the bed. Tenderly Julia bent over to place a little kiss on Severus’ adorably crooked nose…before she slipped underneath the covers to worship him the way, he deserved to be treated…..

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

47 notes · View notes