#Fic: Hecate's Curse

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Minotaur!König x Ariadne!Reader Theseus is dead. You’re escorting the Minotaur, more beast than a man, out of the Labyrinth. The problem is, he seems to be more interested in what’s between your legs than in his mission of killing the notorious king of Crete… (12 k. Minotaur is not an actual hybrid in this fic. Reader is Hecate’s initiate. Part 1 here.) Tags/warnings: Shameless smut mdni, dubious consent, extremely possessive behaviour, abduction, first time (König & reader are both virgins), hugs & cuddles, washing blood off your monster boyfriend, awkward flirting, semi-rough sex, shifting power dynamics, sexist insults & slurs (the citizens of Crete do not approve of your choices), implied cannibalism, fluffy ending. Mythical AU.

The candle goes out before you reach the surface.

To someone else, it would be the end of the world: to you, it’s only a hindrance, a nuisance, mostly. 

You’re not easily distressed. If you were, you wouldn’t be in the service of the greatest goddess of the Underworld. And you’re not mourning losing the sight of your warmly illuminated beast... You’re only worried about what he will do once the darkness descends. Whether he will forget about his vow, whether the baser instincts take over him once the darkness falls.

And darkness is not capable of making you lost: you can always follow the string in your hand. But without light, it’s difficult to predict the Bull’s moves: whether he decides to maim or fuck you against the wall, you can never tell. He hasn’t lived in the real world among people; he doesn’t know what’s right or wrong and what’s expected of him. Even the best of men can succumb to the demands of the flesh, so what power would a Bull Man have against his animal wants? No one ever taught him to respect the gods, let alone the maidens who serve them...

Then again, if a simple candle was the only thing that kept you alive, then what’s the point of lamenting the loss of it? Your life was already forfeit when you chose to descend here.

So you let it go: as always, the greatest lesson in life is to simply let go. Of control, of judgment, of fear, of hope. 

He doesn’t say a thing when the light flickers, then fades. The candle goes out in silence, and you let it drop before the remaining wax burns your palm.

And it’s not the absence of light, but strength, that forces you on your knees before even an hour has passed. There’s still a long way to go, and the yarn is like a thin string of hope in your hand, but you’re too exhausted, too worn out, too hungry and too tired to go on.

The Bull Man doesn’t object to your suggestion to lay down and sleep for a while. He has walked behind you in silence the whole day. Or night… You can’t tell the difference; you lost count somewhere along the way down here. The air is stale and humid, and there’s no torch, not a single candle anywhere and even if there were, you wouldn’t do anything with them without a flint. 

The horror is kept at bay only through your numerous exercises with the goddess who introduced you to darkness many, many moons ago. You were initiated during the dark Moon, the new Moon, the blood Moon, introduced to the mysteries of the maiden, mother and crone, to the secrets of both the living and the dead. You’re not afraid, but your body still warns you of danger: you just don’t know if it’s a memory from childhood or a reaction to the Bull, panting behind you – out of lust or exertion, you don’t even know. Someone who wasn’t a maiden probably could tell… At times, you curse the fact that there hasn’t been a single phallus inside you because men too possess knowledge. Taking a man into your bed would have initiated you to a different set of mysteries, but now, you are poking blind. 

The Bull Man is an animal, you remind yourself. The longer you stay in his company, the more he starts to resemble a human, even if he is a man of few words. How he even remembers them is another mystery: you thought he was sent down here as a young boy. He speaks oddly but eloquently, a remnant of his noble descent, perhaps. Or perhaps he has listened to the people speaking in the Labyrinth, eavesdropped his victims an hour or two before killing them. Whatever the reason, you have to constantly tie your tongue because there’s simply no point in talking to a beast. The less you know about him and his past, the better.

You ready yourself for sleep, but the cursed cold of the tunnels keeps your body awake. Your flesh is human even if your mind is forged to withstand hunger, thirst and pain. Endurance against cold was never your strong suit, and you miss the heat of the sun, the warmth of it on your skin, even the ample light it gives. You, a lover of the moon, missing the heat of Apollo… It’s a joke, surely.

On the stone floor, it’s even colder, the rough, damp ground making your very bones ache. How on Hecate’s name has the beast survived this place?

“Bull Man,” you speak into the darkness, thick like an impenetrable wall and thin like a virgin’s veil.

“Maiden,” he echoes with a dark, low growl, slightly amused by the name you’ve selected for him.

“Are you cold?” You whisper.

Perhaps he doesn’t quite understand the question or why you asked it. It doesn’t matter: you have to swallow your pride and ask for his help if you’re going to survive this dark prison.

“I don’t get cold,” he finally responds.

“Good. I need your heat.” 

The silence drags on, and you fear he has misunderstood you again, but then he speaks again, with the same slightly amused tone as before.

“Come take it.”

You’re not sure if you’ve completely lost your mind, crawling to him through the uneven floor of the Labyrinth. Who knows what he will do to you once he gets those arms of iron around you? You’re placing your maidenhood, your whole body at his mercy. And you’re not even sure if it’s a he, if this thing is human at all. 

Human or animal, your hand meets the bull’s head on the way to him. He has taken it off, then... It’s not a part of him, just like you suspected. Maybe he is just a giant, daunting man, born from whatever forbidden desire Pasiphae had. Who knows if she only went to a foreign lover’s arms when her husband was at war? Who knows if King Minos has trouble getting his phallus up… These things happen: women get pregnant from their lovers, they do desperate things to pacify their husbands. And you don’t need a bull to get yourself an heir...

You feel his heat before you feel his skin: the Minotaur is verily blazing. He has gotten used to the cold, it seems, his body like a small bonfire in the clammy tunnel. 

“Cold little female,” he comments when you snuggle towards him shyly, thoroughly aware of the uninviting chill of your body. 

You settle next to him, every muscle in your body tight like a bowstring, your breaths shallow when he gives you a welcoming rumble. Goosebumps prickle across your skin and your throat goes dry, the thick swallow in the tunnel echoing around you like a thief.

Arms like iron go around you, and his body is taut, just like yours, but for a whole different reason entirely. He’s not afraid or nervous; he’s just… big. Pure muscle, his whole body thick, the stock and heat of him remind you of the sun. A miniature sun down here in these dark tunnels, but while you start to slowly soften in his arms, a different threat is already emerging. It doesn’t take long before his cock stiffens against you, and with the scarce clothing you both have, you can feel its every excited twitch.

Artemis… Protect me from this beast. Turn him into a dog if he tries to penetrate me. Let him rip my throat instead… 

You’ve never prayed to the Virgin Goddess; you don’t know if she can even hear you from down here. But Hecate would only laugh if this Bull decided to breed you. No mercy would arrive from that direction: she would either send a disease of blisters upon the Minotaur for touching her chosen or then she would cackle like an old woman, thousand times raped.

“Thank you,” you whisper, hoping your kindness will distract him from what’s happening downstairs.

“My pleasure,” he grumbles, mimicking the words he probably heard as a child in his father’s great hall. 

It sends a chill down your spine and butterflies into your heart to hear him speak like a polite man of court. And again, you think of asking him about his childhood... His mother, his father, the things he remembers from the surface. How he survived here without water, if there are underground springs here somewhere. Whether he eats humans like they say... If he ever embraced the dead women he killed. 

“Can you do it again,” he rumbles against you, cutting you away from your grotesque thoughts.

“...Do what again?” 

“Touch me… With your hand.”

His words are blunt now, his speech clumsy. But the way he says it is not an order. It’s an odd beg, more like. Laced with hope and wishes far away from greed. This Bull is never greedy, per se… He’s just lacking. Starved, for so many things that you fear there’s not enough time nor kindness to give him what he needs.

Your pulse flutters when you slowly lift your hand and caress the strong cords of muscle that make his neck. The rumbling returns; it turns into a low purr as the beast relaxes under your touch. Something softens inside you when he sighs from relief. His unbridled happiness tugs at your heart, trying to yank open something forbidden. It’s the softest violation you’ve ever felt: to be held by a giant killer having a roaring erection, while the said killer clearly enjoys your caress like it’s the touch of Aphrodite herself…

You even stroke his face. His jaw, unclenching under your touch; his cheek, covered with what you suppose is simply a wild, overgrown beard. 

“Your hand,” he groans softly, “makes me sleepy and warm…”

The cold, uncaring goddess recedes. The burdens of past, present and future dissolve. Softness takes place in your heart; the iron locks give in like brittle brass. A smile plays on your lips as you continue to pet him softly, lulling you both to sleep with your voice.

“Then sleep, Bull of Crete...”

���

You wake up to his cock pressing against you.

Not against your stomach like when you went to sleep – that you could do with – but against your cunt, barely veiled by the thin linen of your dress.

The panic is soon wrestled down with reason: you tell yourself it’s just a cock. It’s just him. You’re simply in the Minotaur’s arms, and he’s sound asleep still; there’s no reason to buck and jerk and scream. 

The darkness feels like a safe womb now, but with nothing to lock your gaze to, you have to take a moment to ground yourself into reality. And the first thing you ground into is a thick cockhead, pressing fast into your nether lips. He’s practically at the gates, and you’re lucky he’s still asleep.

It’s perhaps your fault this happened in the first place: you notice you’ve dragged your thigh over his hip; as if wanting him to fuck you in your sleep… You embrace him like Helen of Troy, and he holds you through his sleep like a man in love, perfectly content with napping on the cold ground with you.

“Mm…” The beast stirs, probably noticing how the female in his arms is tense as a rod. “You smell like you want to fuck…”

“No I don’t,” you hurry to whisper.

Gods curse this man’s ability to smell everything from miles away. Blood and humans and, apparently, a woman at her most receptive. 

What if he can actually smell the wetness between your legs?

“We need to go,” you slowly remove your leg from on top of his waist, hoping it would go unnoticed that you were clutching him like a lover. You have no such luck: he grabs your thigh and draws it back, sets it safe and snug around his waist while adjusting his grip on you, now hugging you entirely like a lover would.

“I want to mate with you,” he says softly. “You want to mate too. Why go?”

He sounds so adorable when he’s still in the process of waking up to a new day. Drowsy and sweet, voice husky from sleep, body warm as can be, the hard-on between his legs happy and stiff.

“I thought you wanted to kill the king,” you try to point out. 

“This is more important,” he gruffs. “Urgent.”

The cock pushes further up and against you, now spreading your folds under the dress, trying to penetrate into your heat. Your eyes go wide as thick need pools down to meet his greed. His body, his cock makes your head go dull for a moment; you feel like you’re not even capable of thinking actual thoughts.

“No, it’s not. We need to get up.”

You stiffen in his arms, push yourself away, and to your surprise, he actually lets you go. Reluctantly and with a hollow grunt, but he lets you go. 

You rise with a wobble, and adjust your dress, your head spinning from his advances. You swear he becomes more man-like every day, every passing hour, even. Or is it just you who’s changing…? 

The Bull Man is up before you get to ponder on that thought for too long. Your heart and head struggle to find their footing for a moment, your legs are so weak you feel like fainting. He catches you before you fall, the warm, thick arms closing around you with stout affection.

“You need more heat?” He asks softly.

You look up out of habit, even if you can't see his eyes, covered by the carcass again because his voice is muffled.

“No… I’m hungry.”

He’s silent for a moment, probably thinking what he could do to help the situation. You fear he will suggest you go back to visit his “pantry” and eat whatever horrible, half-rotten man-flesh he might have in store there, but he only holds you close to prevent you from sliding back to the ground.

“Hmm. No mice up here,” he ponders. 

“You eat mice…?”

“Sometimes.”

You leave it at that: you don’t want to know what he’s had to do to sustain himself down here. You don’t even have a fire to cook the vermin, even if you would be ready to eat even those after another day or two without food. 

“Not a long way up,” he says. “We will reach the sun soon. Then I’ll find you something to eat.”

“How do you know that…?”

“The air smells different.”

You sigh and search for the string, your lifeline to the outside world. You can’t wait to get out of here, and with both hurry and an odd dread, you hike for what seems like another whole day. Tension, hunger and thirst distort your thoughts, and you’re sure by now that the time flows differently here in the Underworld. With no small amount of pride, you feel accomplished to have survived this place so far. Even gods have had to do some tricks to escape the nether worlds: it is no small feat to charm the Minotaur and then walk out of here unharmed. 

To your knowledge, you’re the only one who has ever escaped the Labyrinth. You haven’t even had time to think about what you will unleash with you… The demon that walks on your heels will take his revenge, not only on the king but on the city who threw him here. 

Well. It’s their problem now. Minos and Pasiphae simply have to deal with their successor. The world will simply have to deal with the Underworld’s wrath. 

And oh, how Hecate would laugh if she saw this monster prince of Crete escape his prison because of you – the feared Minotaur set free, only because he’s mesmerized by a woman. You suspect he would have his cock jumping for any girl, though. It's not because you're an exceptional sorceress that he follows you: it's your cunt he's after. And it shouldn’t make you feel jealous that he probably gets distracted the moment he sees a better offer walk by.

But it does. In your darkest wishes, you would keep the Bull Man all to yourself. Get him a leash, perhaps... Feed him with your own hands and let him grope you in the dark, watch him go wild from lust when you finally give him access to your cunt. 

Many would hardly think you’re a virgin if they took a peek inside your head. But the things you’ve seen and done, the white bulls you’ve slaughtered for the dark Goddess, adorning them with cypress wreaths before slashing their throats open, would turn any woman bleak and twisted like this. For once, you would like to save the bull from slaughter.

When you see the first evidence of light, your body lets out a sigh it has been holding ever since you arrived here. Seeing the sun gives you more strength than any food or meal, and you pick up your pace while the Minotaur behind you begins to hesitate. 

“It’s too bright,” he says before you’ve even walked out of the tunnel, now turning into a vast cave, the entrance to the Labyrinth. 

You turn around to look and stop in your tracks when you see the fear in his eyes is acute. It’s mixed with wonder, the curiosity wrestling away doubt slowly but surely. He only needs a little nudge, a gentle pull, an enticing little smile and eyes that he can trust.

“You’ll get used to it soon,” you extend your hand. 

He takes a step, then another, then another, until he reaches your outstretched fingers, and hand in hand you walk out of the Labyrinth and into the bright morning sun, burning over the kingdom of Crete.

He’s only a breath away from panicking, but covers it well. You wonder if it’s truly the light that’s too bright or if the feeling of being so exposed is what makes him so afraid. Clearly, the vast space opening up before him is intimidating. 

There are grassy plains as far as the eye can see, little hills that dot the horizon, and skies so expansive and bright it must hurt his eyes. Goats are grazing under the sun, trees are bending in the wind, the rustling of leaves and the sound of birds calling him to look in all directions as he tries to make some sense of his surroundings.

“It’s alright,” you give his palm a soft squeeze, and the way he looks there under the sun, so big and powerful and able, and still so utterly lost, is giving you heartache you haven’t known since you were a child.

“There’s… so many colours,” he says, looking at the blue summer sky, the deep olive greens, the dirty whiteness of the goats, the flowers upon the grass. A butterfly, flying past, yellow like the citrus that people harvest from a few miles from here. A big blackbird with an orange beak, swooping down to catch a cricket, the slate grey pigeons flying so close to the sun that he has to shield his eyes even if they’re already safe and sheltered under the bull head.

Seeing his wonder and awe makes you look at the scenery so differently that it burns, it actually hurts: there’s so much beauty in the world, and you have always taken it for granted. Cursed the rain and the storms, cursed the droughts, cursed the gods for sending down another famine, when in truth, the world was filled with abundance, of colours, of life and joy… And all you’ve done is worship darkness. Now the darkness is out: it’s standing next to you, watching the view of your mundane everyday life like it’s nothing short of a miracle.

And when you turn back to look at him again, his eyes are upon you.

“What?” You ask, freshly caught in your moment of weakness.

“You are pretty,” he says, eyes wrinkling with delight under the mask. 

Gods damn him… 

He doesn’t know that human men don’t act like this, talk like this, or if they do, there’s usually something vile involved behind it all. He doesn’t know how to play games, he was never introduced to the lies and deceit of the world.

The Bull of Crete only looks at you with soft fondness in his stare – he doesn’t understand that he should cover that softness as well if he intends to win. Any woman could put a leash on him before another moon has passed, but he doesn’t seem to care. And it’s not even heat or hunger that makes you weak this time... It’s those eyes, looking at you with more and more warmth.

“Nonsense,” you huff without a voice, and turn towards the old road with an adoring bull on your heels.

The cold sigh of the underworld is quickly left behind you as you walk up the old carriage road, nearly grown in with weeds. The Labyrinth is located miles away from civilization, but the people living in these hills are used to the cold cave by now. They trust that the Minotaur will never escape and only turn away their heads and close the doors of their huts when the screaming, crying human sacrifices are delivered to the mouth of the cave. Little do they know that the monster is now looking at their little hills and goats with delight, not bloodlust.

For the Minotaur is fascinated with your world: he has to touch every leaf, every tree, every blade of grass, it seems. The goats are afraid of him, but one small nanny is bold enough to come and sniff his hand. Perhaps it remembers that beings walking on two feet give her apples sometimes, and the giant studies this small white animal with gentle curiosity, allows the goat to smell his hand, only chuckles when the goat gives out a little scoff when she notices there are no treats to be found there.

The vision is more adorable than when you’ve seen children play with kittens, and no matter what you do, you can’t turn your heart into ice anymore. You were taught that the Minotaur is a monster who enjoys torturing his victims, creatures far more helpless than him. Now you see him watching the she-goat with warm curiosity, rumbling softly inside his helm, far from the ravaging beast that approached you in that tunnel what seems like months ago.

You watch him with tender sadness as he marvels at the sky and remembers how he used to sit in the shade of an olive tree when he was a child. He goes to sit there now and examines how the sun filters through the massive branches of the tree as if trying to recall the memory. 

He asks questions like: “How can you humans stand this heat?” or “Why is there only one road?” and listens to your answers carefully.

He says he can smell the sea, even if the salty water is miles and miles away, and gets curious about what’s behind that hill, or that one, what about that one… You wonder if he’s even interested in killing the king anymore and suggest that he could just forget about this cruel place and buy himself a sea voyage with that expensive sword. He could get rid of his helmet and ask if anyone needs a goat herd or an able-bodied man to help at construction sites or stables; he could get work from the docks any day, sail to Athens or some other big city, forge himself a new life. 

But he doesn’t want to.

He says he has to avenge his mother who always cried when he was little.

More wretched tugs pull at your heart as you approach the city. The lovely summer’s day turns into a nightmare once people see who’s on his way to the heart of Crete.

You don’t understand their screams, not anymore, while only a few days ago you knew they preceded death. The Minotaur doesn’t kill anyone, mainly because he doesn’t have to. Everyone flees before his wake, people rush to their homes and bar the doors, even soldiers slip away to be with their loved ones or run to warn the king if they have any loyalty left. 

You’re left to walk through the marketplace in settling dust and tense silence as the Bull Man explores the abundant samples of food on display. He has to have a taste of everything from all stands, but only after he has offered figs, olives, grain, grapes, grilled meat and fish to you first.

“Eat,” he says and shoves a handful of pine seeds your way. “You were hungry?”

“This is not the way to–” you ignore the food only through sheer willpower. “This is not right. People own these things. They sell them at the market, you need to pay for these.”

“Pay? With what?”

He looks at you for a moment, unable to recall what money is and how these things are supposed to work. He probably had his mother’s servants bring him everything he needed as a child anyway, so how could he know? 

“They will take your hands for stealing,” you try to explain with softly building despair.

“I will take their heads before that.”

“The next king will hunt you down and punish you,” you rush after him, and when he won’t listen, you seize his hand and finally get him to halt. He looks down at the weak palm around his wrist, then raises his gaze to you.

“Bulls don’t have kings.”

Your attempts to tame him are futile. The things they’ve taught him to be are now being used as a way to escape responsibility, and while it’s none of your business, you refuse to let him believe that he is nothing more than an animal.

“You are not a bull,” you wail in frustration. “You’re a man.”

He hesitates, only for a moment; the gentle, loving gaze makes your legs weak.

“You’re the first to think that.” 

Then he rips himself away from you, softly but sternly.

He doesn’t need directions to the palace: he knows he has to head for the most prominent building in the city to reach the king. The grandiose heart of Crete, white-chalked and beautiful under the burning midday sun is the pride of every citizen, even if it houses another monster.

You sigh as you watch him go: the Bull Man, the demon of the underworld, the one you thought would rape you bloody before you get to crawl out of the Labyrinth. The fact that he wanted to kill his father more than he wanted to be born again into a new life wasn’t a surprise, but that he chose to bloody his sword rather than his cock is somehow... insulting, almost. 

What actually haunts you is how your insides coil and turn when you rush back to your temple. It’s not like you thought the Minotaur would take you with him. Board some trade ship bound for distant shores, and ravage you ever so softly in the belly of the creaking hull. It’s not like you dreamed of petting him to sleep while you two embark on a new life. But the way your heart twists and wails inside your chest makes it clear that losing him is even more painful than losing Theseus and the life he promised you. 

You never even wanted Theseus; you only wanted him to take you away from here. His affection would have been the result of ample witchcraft at best.

He’s practically already dead, and your heart turns to stone far more slowly than you would prefer. It’s just your luck to first have the golden hero of Greece look down on you in disdain, and then witness even the Bull Man walk away from you like you never meant anything to him. Men killing each other is the oldest story in the world, and you want no part in it, but something in this beast has stirred you awake from a long, cold slumber. It’s infuriating that you can’t dispel a simple animal from your heart. Oldest story in the book, that one, too…

But oh, how you now yearn after some cruel, lowly, dirty beast… The Minotaur already owns you, and he never even had to plunge his sword inside you to prove that. Besides, you would’ve been perfectly willing had he decided to take you on the green grass, under the vast sky, while some noisy goats graze around you. You realize that that’s what you expected to happen, and when it didn’t, you’re left more than disappointed: you're left completely hollow. You always find out these things a little too late, it seems… The Bull is headed for the palace and will likely get killed after he slaughters his cruel father. There’s at least thirty spears in that building, and more will arrive when called.

You arrive at the temple, panting and with your body flushed and weak. The maidens at the entrance share a quick glance with each other before turning their fearful gazes back to you. They’re the youngest arrivals, not even initiates yet; one of them hardly even bleeds. 

“The King is dead,” you announce without bothering to even greet them, and the girls huddle up together like they’re a bunch of slaves about to get slapped.

You realize you must look like an animal with your dirty robes, dishevelled hair and your wild, alive stare. No wonder they look like they’ve seen a ghost... You basically are one, coming back from the dead like this.

“What?” 

A priestess arrives at the threshold like an image of Hecate herself, dressed in robes as black as the midnight sky, but you don’t shy away from her like you used to.

“Or he will be. Soon. The Minotaur is here.” 

“How did you… How did it...”

You’ve never seen the priestess in disarray. She’s always composed, cold and distant, but seeing you like the wraith that you are, freshly escaped from the Labyrinth, spat back from the bowels of the earth like the dark gods didn’t even want you there, makes even the greatest of Hecate’s servants a little uneasy. 

She gathers what’s left of her dignity and finds her most commanding voice. Sadly, it doesn’t have the power to shake the ground anymore.

“Where is Theseus of Athens?”

“Disemboweled… is my best guess,” you say in a listless voice, then turn your head toward the smell of fresh fruit.

Normally, you would walk these halls with dignity, but now, you simply barge in and grab the first piece of food you find. You ought to get whipped for your insolence, but no one dares to raise a hand against you. The maids and priestesses stare in shock as you eat and drink like a starved prisoner. You’re a living Hecate in certain aspects, your arrival the first toll of the bell of doom as the palace guards sound the alarm.

So…

The Minotaur has reached the king.

…

The priestesses deem it only logical that the King finally pays for his sins: the gods have been offended by the number of human sacrifices sent to the Labyrinth, and this is their way of exacting revenge. You were only an instrument of their will.

After a quick wash and some more food, you begin to feel like a human again. The maids bring you a new chiton, flowing and white: your old clothes are burned in a brazier as if that would help you forget.

And this might be the only place you don’t get blamed for unleashing a monster. You were at a crossroads with the Minotaur, and anyone would have done the same: try to talk him out of his killing spree, calm him down, entice him with a gift. No one expected that the beast could even speak, so your approach was unusual, perhaps, but it worked. Hecate guided you through the tunnels, even when the candle went out, she stilled the Bull’s loins until you reached the sunlight where the beast got distracted with other things. You leave out the Minotaur's attraction to birds, bees and butterflies because your story is unbelievable enough as it is.

But the Minotaur will be slain after he has done his deed: Minos is the one who should be punished, not the city of Crete. And it is only just to put down this beast, a mercy.

So when he appears between the pillars of temple, this time wholly covered in blood, people are bound to scream. Even the priestesses who are used to seeing blood, shriek like widows when the Minotaur steps inside the holy shrine of Hecate.

“Where is the maiden of the crossroads?”

He came back for you, after all…

The boom of his voice is familiar, and yet, you cower on the bench when you hear it. The Minotaur sounds like he’s an envoy of Hades himself, and while you’re not among those who scream and yell, it still sends shivers down your spine to hear him speak like that.

Or is it the excitement, a tiny flame of hope that makes you quiver like this?

“We all belong to the goddess,” someone peeps, the Minotaur now descending down the stairs.

The massive head turns, gaze like razor sweeping across the marbled shrine. You’re so far back that he can’t catch you, sitting behind many bodies and faces, and before you can force yourself to rise, the main priestess, the oldest, most crooked of the crones, steps forth to meet this beast.

“This is a House of Hecate,” she speaks. “No man is allowed to enter unless they are Death.”

The black carcass turns, but the priestess doesn’t waver. If anything, her spine turns into unbreakable metal before this man’s gaze.

“I am Death,” he says, far more gently than anyone would expect. Then he walks past the crone like she’s just a harmless elder. No one does a thing, because even the head of your temple is powerless now.

“She had a red string and a candle. Where is she?”

He grabs the first woman he sees, and you rise up before he decides it’s time to thrust his blade into someone to loosen the tongues of these women. 

“Please,” you take a hesitant step towards your Bull. “I’m here... I’m the one you’re looking for.”

The Minotaur lets go of the frightened initiate the instant he sees you. She’s shoved aside with little interest, the blue eyes behind the corpse now solely fixed on you. The way they soften into hazy ice makes your knees weak – that’s the stare of someone who recognizes their loved one among a thick, dull crowd…

“Come with me,” he extends a hand when he reaches you, strong legs swallowing tiles like he’s in a hurry to get back to you. You open your mouth, close it, and look at his hand, the rough, enormous palm held out for you to place your own little hand in.

“You belong to me,” he says with great weight when you don’t speak. It should spark the ire of the goddess for him to dare to talk to you like this… But mostly, your body sings. It tells you to take a step and take his hand: to let him have you, once and for all. 

“My place is here,” you utter, all power gone from your voice. All your dreams, all your fears are offering their hand to you with his, and the maidens, mothers and crones of this hall look upon your exchange with the Bull Man in stupefied silence. 

“You were sent down to me,” he presses on. “You are mine now. You belong to me.”

Your body is singing, singing, singing.

It’s not a request… Or a proposal. 

It’s a god, taking what’s his.

…

You swallow with nothing in your throat and look at the head priestess with helpless misery: she looks back with the eyes of a noxious Medusa, wholly dispassionate to the problems you brought upon yourself. And what could she even do? She’s unarmed against the claims of Hades: Death is now in love with you, and there’s nothing you or anyone else can do about it. 

He doesn’t want to stay in the city, as enchanting as it is, saying that it stinks and that he’s tired of the screams. No one wants him here; he already knows that, and the task he was meant to do is done. He doesn’t seem to be much moved by it either, only asking you if there is a place where he can wash the blood off himself. 

People become more bold when they see you walk out of the city. Not even the sight of a crimson demigod makes them watch their tongues. Insults and slurs follow you through the streets, shouts such as “Kingslayer!” and “Beast!” are accompanied with curses such as “You are an abomination!” and “Go back to your lair!” 

No one treats him as their prince and savior, no one sees him as the man he truly is. And because hatred thickens in crowds, you get your share of the insults as well. 

What kind of a woman would follow a beast like him? Have you sold your soul to the demons of the desert, or has Hades himself forced you to be with this monster? Are you behind the murder of their king?

“Must I remind you?” You turn on your heels, standing tall and proud with the posture of a queen. “According to the old laws, the one who slays the king is the next to rule.” 

“You led him out of the Labyrinth, didn’t you?” the voices ask.

“Gave him your cunt, too,” they sneer.

“You’re worse than the bloody Gorgon,” they mock, but you have a thick skin: if anything, you take it as a compliment to be referred to the mighty slayers of men.

What cuts through your heart is the filth and hate they spit at him, the man who has known nothing but loath since he was born. 

“Hecate’s whore… I should kill you first,” one soldier shouts with spit running down his chin.

The citizens of Crete would never hail the Minotaur as their king, but none can say the deed didn’t prove great strength. Some would even call it justice. He is the queen’s son, after all: he’s more royal than any of these dung-stinking peasants will ever be. He should never have been sent down to those tunnels in the first place.

Before you know it, the Minotaur swoops past you in haste, diving towards the screaming crowd with hunched shoulders and a fiery breath.

“Stop,” you say, and he halts immediately, gaze still directed to the one who called you a whore. The soldiers back away along with the peasants and tradesmen, these poor, humble Cretes who act like they never meant to be so mean.

“Let us go in peace,” you command, voice unwavering and stern. “Or I will curse you all. You and your families, down to the seventh son and seventh daughter.”

That manages to shut them up. The threat of a curse frightens these poor beasts even more than the enraged Minotaur breathing fire through his helm. No one wants rot and puke to follow them wherever they go; no one wants to doom their offspring with illness, death and sorrow. They disperse in all directions and only hiss and whisper as they go.

You spit on the ground as your last gift to these people, leaving the city of Crete with the ever-adoring Bull at your heels.

“You’re even prettier when you’re angry,” he says while walking next to you, voice thick with genuine passion and awe.

You roll your eyes: any man would cower before Hecate’s curse, but this one? This one only gets more horny. 

“Perhaps you are part bull after all,” you retort dryly.

“It takes more than one spear to kill me,” he boasts, but you don’t need more proof of his prowess. Surely, people have tried to kill him in the Labyrinth, but he’s survived every single attempt on his life – for that alone, he should be a decorated hero.

The only thing that makes you annoyed, however, is this childish need to prove he could’ve taken the whole city by himself just because some man happened to call you a slut.

“Mother said I’m a monster instead of a man,” he says, completely unaware that your snap wasn't meant as a compliment. He says it like he’s partly proud of it, and you finally sigh and turn. 

“Your mother was heartless. And wrong.”

The Minotaur only looks at you with a building passion that goes straight to your loins.

“But you’re not.”

“...What?”

“Heartless.”

You feel stripped naked before him, the way his eyes seem to burn away your poor dress. But the fact that he unearths your most guarded secret, just like that, is a catastrophe of a far wider scale.

You’re not sure who’s tied to whom anymore… Or if you’re tied to each other, the gods now laughing in their wine as they look down at you two: a fierce and bloodied giant following the maiden he stole like it’s you who took him and not the other way around.

You reach the roaring waters of a waterfall in silence, the night wrapping the lands inside a dark blue veil. Stars will be visible soon, and with the moon creeping up to the sky, you won’t be needing candles tonight. The silver mistress gives plenty of light for you to admire your beast, and compared to the thick darkness of the tunnels you emerged from this morning, it feels like a generous blessing.

You sit on the banks of the small, clear pond, utterly exquisite at nightfall. The sun’s heat has turned into a warm, caressing breeze, and you submerge your feet into the water, giving out a satisfied sigh as the cool pond embraces your travel worn feet. The Bull sinks to a crouch some distance away from you, curious about your obvious moment of pleasure.

“Did you meet her…? Your mother?” You ask from the cool water lapping at your feet – how can a simple man make you feel so restless and shy?

“Did you… kill her?” 

“She cursed me,” he says, sullen and wholly unsurprised. Time and time again, you are shocked by the hatred his own kin shows him. How can a mother be so cruel?

“How could I kill my own maker?”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “For everything.” 

You swallow before such unwavering love. The same man who cursed the gods yesterday  honours the womb he came from so much that he won’t raise a hand against it, not even when his own mother spits curses at him. You don’t know if it’s his greatest strength or biggest weakness, but sometimes you wonder if he’s more human than humans, this beast.

“I’m not,” he retorts immediately. “The king is dead. Mother is safe. I have you... This is the best day of my life.”

You turn to look at him. Time and again, the lack of lies and deceit in this man catches you off guard. It’s more painful than any wound, to see how the Minotaur has no protective skin against the corrupted human nature, that he is human nature before it was defiled.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” you falter. 

The chiton pools around your ankles, and you wonder if the man even breathes anymore. You know your skin is glowing with the last rays of the setting sun, you’re aware that the water and moonlight play upon your skin and make you look like an illusion, powerful in its own way.

When have you ever faltered…? Back when you were a little girl, you reckon, the notion euphoric and eerie in your bones.

You rise up and undress before him nonchalantly, trying to ignore the fervid stare of your admirer. Unclasping the brooches holding up your white linen dress, you let it fall down and set you free, secretly reveling in the downright carnal stare now glued to your skin. 

Ripe for plucking, you think while stepping out of the pile of cloth and into the thin evening air. His gaze feasts on you: the plump breasts no one ever loved, the vulnerable navel down below, the dark triangle between your legs, the secret power it holds.

Heat pools into your core as you watch him: everything in your body turns warm and soft when you take in the utter heftiness of him. The mean, swelling phallus between his legs, the near inhuman strength those shoulders and chest possess. Your body is the complete opposite of him, ethereal, almost, compared to the absolute brute strength before you. 

His eyes linger there the longest until he rises too, stiff and dreamy, a beast entirely taken by a thrall. The loincloth is practically torn away, as if it’s only a nuisance he must get rid of immediately. His eyes never leave your shape while he bares himself, and the phallus, you notice, belongs to a human. It’s thick and wondrous, fully erect, adorned with dark curls and accompanied by a set of balls you’ve mainly seen on horses. Big, full and round but unlike animals, they’re covered in dark fur, almost black here in the evening light. Thick seed beads through the slit of his cock from simply seeing you, and the way his chest heaves makes it clear that this man is ready to mate as soon as he’s allowed to do so. 

“You need to take off your helm,” you lift your chin, thoroughly aware of your power over him, even if it’s laughable, a miracle that he doesn’t fuck you on the spot like the animal he is. “You’re a man, not a bull.”

His eyes don’t betray any kind of hesitation. He doesn’t seem to be interested in whether he wears his mask or not. He just blinks as if he’s indeed under a spell and nods.

“If you say so.”

The broad muscles flex as he takes it off, and what is revealed to you from underneath the head is both a surprise and a disappointment. There’s not a monster under there, only a man, a stoic, boorish, shaggy male who’s in desperate need of a wash and a comb. He’s somewhat handsome under all that facial hair and knots, actually, not bad at all – if you like your men rugged and wild. 

He lets the head drop to the ground with a thud as if it was never a part of him at all, and follows you into the pool like you’re his mother and he’s your cub about to get scrubbed clean. 

He seems to dwarf you, even when half submerged in the pond, leaning back with a sigh not unlike yours. If you’re afraid, your body has a peculiar way of showing it: even in the clear, glossy water, you can feel yourself get wet. Never have you seen such strength, not in any man: in horror and awe, you realize he could be a descendant of Zeus himself. As if providing proof to these claims, he looks up to the sky, mesmerized by the myriad stars dotting the vast, unattainable blue.

Using this momentary distraction to your advantage, you reach to pluck a handful of moss from the bank. With this soft little sponge in your hand, you hope to make it clear that this is indeed a bath, not foreplay. 

“They’re stars,” you say softly while slinking closer to him. “Have you ever seen them...?”

“Yes,” he rasps with his head lolled back, throat completely exposed. It always hurts your heart to see that he trusts you so fully. You are no threat to him – even if the gods changed the moss in your hand into a weapon of some sort, you wouldn’t pose any kind of challenge. And still, the way he allows you to creep towards him and wipe his rough hide with the makeshift sponge without so much as flinching is heartbreaking. 

“I have forgotten…” his voice drifts off as he examines the night sky, eyes filled with distant, glass-like delight.

“Beautiful, aren’t they...?” 

“Your world is pretty,” he brings his gaze back to earth and to you. “But you’re the loveliest thing I’ve seen so far.”

You almost freeze upon hearing that. His compliments always catch you off guard, but this time, something forbidden and long forgotten comes undone: a lost want, no, a need to hear such simple words of shallow praise.

“You do not scream... You do not run. Why?”

Your eyes are liquid, glass about to break as you set yourself on the task of scrubbing him clean. You refuse to get emotional in front of him: an initiate of the dark goddess, shedding tears when a horny man calls her pretty? What utter nonsense.

But then he grabs your wrist: not to seize back power, but to prevent you from escaping this fragile moment.

“You are different,” he agrees calmly, then releases you, but you reckon it’s mostly because he misses the soft rubs you were giving him. 

“Perhaps I’m crazy,” you breathe while looking at the damp curls on his chest.

Yes… That’s the only explanation for this madness. It has to be.

“Is that why you took me?” 

“I took you because you’re mine. I want you.”

“You can’t just take what you want,” you warn softly.

“Why not?” His head tilts a little to the side as he’s trying to make sense of you and the manners of your world. “Don’t you want to be mine?”

You lift your gaze and risk a look into his eyes, stripped from all facades as always. You even catch a passing wave of worry there: he had counted on you being as fascinated with him as he is with you. The hunger behind that want, the need to be something special to you, is a whole another issue that must wait until your head is more clear. Way more clear…

“Perhaps,” you confess.

“I have nothing to give you,” he shrugs, eyes looking slightly past you this time, out of shame or anxiety. It takes a while for you to understand he’s liking you to the goods at the market and thinks he’s expected to have money to be able to keep you.

“You don’t need to pay for me,” you smile, trying your best to disguise the soft amusement in your voice. His brows only furrow as he tries to calculate and think.

“I don’t understand the rules of this world,” he finally shakes his head. 

“I’ll teach you.”

For a while, he only looks on with fascination how you rub his arms and belly, basically massaging him with the wet moss. His eyes drift closed when you scrub the back of his neck, the stout erection only getting thicker under the cool water. You’re careful with his legs, not because you’re afraid he’s ticklish but because you try to avoid touching the huge cock already jutting up from happiness. It gives a few excited bounces when you wash his inner thighs, hopeful to get its needs satiated soon. 

“I can hunt for you,” he suggests. “Bring you food… Protect you.”

He’s visibly excited when figuring out a way to give you something in return. He wants to provide offerings for your company, your lore, and eventually, your cunt, too. You might be a virgin, but you’re not stupid: of course he wants the soft, wet prize between your legs. A pair of lovely tits to squeeze at night... Ears to groan hushed confessions into, thighs to nibble, bite and suck until you cry... 

“What do you think?” He asks, breath heavy from the bliss you’re already granting him by simply giving him a bath. “I could give you my heat. Please you...”

“You know how to please women?” 

“No. But you could teach me.”

The way he says it is not shy. Only tentative. A bear, walking on ice and hoping it would carry his weight. One wrong step and the ice will swallow him, spitting out his bones only in spring. 

And then…

“Do you know how to fuck?”

The ice holds, mainly because you’re too shocked to even slap or ridicule this man. His eyes bore into you with such unbridled greed that you have trouble keeping your precious pride intact.

“Of course,” you hear yourself whisper like it would be an insult to your intellect if you didn’t.

“Teach me,” he says, ever more greedily.

“I…”

Your jaw is left open, but not a word comes out. A strong palm closes around your wrist again, this time to bring you flush against him. The water laps at your skin, a distant crow cackles somewhere. Your hand is brought to his phallus, but he doesn’t have to wrap your fingers around it: you do it all by yourself, breath locked in your throat as you feel how hard and blazing he is.

“You want my cock,” he says, mouth only an inch from yours. “Don’t you...?”

You wet your lips – a mistake, because his half-lidded gaze darts to your mouth the instant your pink tongue lashes out. You’re in a predicament, but on the other hand, what else did you expect, taking your clothes off in front of a touch-starved bull?

“I’d give it to you happily,” he insists. “No female ever wanted to spread her legs for me.”

Or a leash. 

Your fingers tighten on their own, they mould around him. Like a bond…

“Really?” You breathe. “What fools they were...”

The cock gives a full throb inside your palm, exalted to be yours. But only a moment later, the dreaded Minotaur moves. 

You find yourself under him before you can even gasp for air: the soaked, hot body of a giant now pinning you on the grass and crushing you under it with ease. The weight of your error is fully pressed against you: he was never tamed, and you were a fool to think you could put him in chains.

The raw scent of earth and musk fills your nostrils, making the stars above you spin. His cock is trapped between your bodies, giving another rich pulse against your thigh. Gods, if he were throbbing like that inside you…

“You make my skin burn,” he growls into your ear, the heat of his skin now unbearable, the coarse hair prickling your skin from neck to thigh. “My loins, ache…”

“Are you a witch?” He asks, and you finally allow yourself to breathe.

If he only knew… But hexes and charms are of no use for you now: the only thing you can do is moan, apparently, as he dives for your neck, planting barbarous kisses on your skin.

Down, down, down he goes, pure avarice driving him to feast on every part of you. You’re too weak to stop him when he searches for the source of your intoxicating scent. Discovering it between your thighs, he dives nose-first into your sex, meeting your core with a hungry grunt.

Your back arcs with pleasure, your nails sink into his back: a funny thing to do when he’s already as close as can be. The trail of crude kisses leads him to your breasts, and you try to keep your whimpers in control, but a gasp erupts when he drags a hot tongue across your nipple. Massive palms close around your tits while you squirm in his hold: he doesn’t seem to be driven by the need to please you; rather, he wishes to study you first, examine how your body reacts to his groping. He leaves your breasts aching and sore, every bite and suck managing to make you wetter and wetter, your cunt screaming for attention by now.

“Gods...” you wriggle on the soft earthen bed, not expecting him to take you with his mouth first.

He withdraws, only a little, but his voice is surprisingly soft.

“Do I hurt you...?” 

“No… But this is not mating…”

“Even I know that much,” he says darkly, and grabs you by the waist, moves you around like a doll until you find yourself on your belly. 

He looks at you from between your thighs, demonic and keen. The broad shoulders force your legs wide apart when he’s seated there, waist-deep in the water, with you hauled to the shore like a siren.

Not a moment is wasted as he pulls you back to him by the hips: you’re drawn to all fours, a hot streak of cum dragging on the inside of your thigh from the cock that meets your skin. He grabs and steadies it with an annoyed grunt, and the fat tip is shoved straight into your folds, your nether lips parted with brute force almost. 

“Guide me.”

His voice is demanding, impatient as he drags the fat head up and down the entrance of your hole, coating his cock with your slick in the process. You wonder if it’s instinctual, if he knows that this is where he should poke and that it will hurt you less if he’s well-oiled. He’s about to rut you into oblivion the instant you tell him where to shove his cock, and the prospect only sends more sap flowing down your thigh.

“There…” you stutter when he finds it, the aching spot that’s leaking profusely. He pushes the head in, not by teasing but by bullying, almost forcing it inside from how tight and unreceptive you are.

“Tighter than my fist,” is his only comment, and it makes you shudder. “I will not last long…”

You wince from the burn, but the rest of it glides in like a dream, and suddenly you’re filled, to the capacity, one could say. He grunts just from the way your womanhood is hugging him, not sure what this foreign object inside you is – is it a good thing or a threat?

“Easy then,” you breathe a huff into the sweet night air, filled with fireflies and night birds who know nothing about the fucking you’re about to go through.

He doesn’t move – inside you, that is. Outside, he crawls forward until he moulds around you, heavy body enveloping you completely. The hairs on his thighs tickle the back of your legs, his chest scrapes your back just so as he demonstrates how you belong to him in every way. But when your cunt starts to squeeze him again, he swallows thickly.

“Does this feel good to you too…?”

You catch faint confusion and concern in his voice, astonished that such a soft, frail body like yours can take his cock just like that. Little does he know you’re still adjusting to his size, thanking all the gods that he doesn’t move yet.

“Yes,” you confess because it does feel good: his thickness inside you, stretching you both gently and violently, studying how it feels to be inside a loving, wet heat.

“Then I will fuck you every day,” his lips come to brush your ear. “Many times...”

You hear yourself whimper, more humble now than ever. No man would dare to take you on all fours, but here you are, like a bought bride about to get stuffed…

He withdraws a little, asks, “Like this?” when he returns with a rough, nasty thrust. The balls meet your mound, heavy on the tender nub you’ve flicked when you’re lonely, covering your mouth while you do it. Both your hands are planted on the ground now, your legs spread before this beast, cunt filled to the brim with his cock.

“Not so rough,” you warn, and he heeds your instructions to the letter until he’s moving in and out with a slow, delicious pace that allows you to feel every thick bump of him. Soaked now down to your thighs, the sounds of your mating is utterly sloppy and slick, and of course he’s curious.

“Are you always like this…?”

“Like… what,” you huff in between the slow, torturous thrusts.

“Soft,” he rasps. “Tight… Wet like rain.”

“No. It’s just when…”

“When you want to fuck?”

You whimper for an answer, mostly because he starts to slip from the agreed sluggish pace. His cock invades you with more urgency, chasing the eruption that must be generous from those thick balls that should belong to a horse.

“I knew it…” he says dreamily behind you. “Some women want to mate with bulls...”

He punctuates his newfound pride with a full, deep thrust, and you wince.

“You’re not a–”

“Keep telling yourself that, little maiden.”

He exhales a hot smile next to your ear, and you’re neck deep in love. Your mouth hangs open, your lids half closed and fluttering from the way he pounds into your poor, abused cunt. Heavy balls slap your swollen nub with careless abandon, making you squeeze his thickness every time he hits the end of you. His grunts become more animalistic with every thrust, and your cunt is a wild thing, leaking and weeping and throbbing until you fear there’s something wrong with you – no woman is supposed to be this needy for a beast…

I’m going to come… You realize in horror as the slick sounds of fucking overthrow even the coursing roar of the waterfall. The knowledge shoots your body full of dark, hot ink; it explodes inside your core like a liquid star, throbbing through your cunt currently being ploughed like you’re nothing but a needy, sloppy hole for him. You’re swimming in so much pleasure that it’s almost painful, the revelation some secret of the gods, no doubt. 

He growls when you moan, heavy arm snaking its way around your middle to keep you in place for him. The purr is eager and low, the rumble erupts from his chest like a thick, loving volcano, a statement of how perfect you are. He nuzzles his nose into your neck and rubs his scent all over you while fucking you through it, the divine rapture that leaves your throat dry from moans. 

He doesn’t need to be told what it means when you’re crying like that: he doesn’t need to be explained that his cock is giving you ample pleasure. It’s so desperate, how much he wants to both fuck and please you, just own you and fulfill you, that you start to shake, your frail body not capable of handling the orgasm he just gave you. 

Your strength fails, and you find yourself on your elbows, cunt even more exposed to him now, the cock pistoning into you with a relentless pace. He’s like a titan upon you, taking pleasure from your quivering, weak frame and the tight wet hole that belongs to it. You’re still in rapture when he starts to sound like broken, wounded man.

“You were made for me,” he huffs. “You were made...for me…”

His voice evaporates along with your thin, adoring mewls, just before he fucks himself over the edge. You can feel the hot, thick spurts, filling you as he roars into your hair, balls pressed flush against your sex, thighs meeting yours in a moment frozen in time. 

They can probably hear him all the way to the city, hear what a cunt like yours does to an invincible beast like him… But his cries are only met with silence; the night sky looks back with disinterest, the birds continue their songs when they notice it was only the roar of a mighty beast that filled the land. Before long, he’s groaning above you, using your hole more softly; loving it until the last drop is milked. 

When he stops, his whole body is trembling from release, but you’re not given a moment of reprieve. He forces you to the ground with him on your back, the rough, thick body never leaving yours. Coarse beard chafes your neck, his body trapping you completely under him, he even opens his jaw to take your shoulder between his teeth and bites you while his cock is still pulsing fat inside you. 

“I can’t get enough of you,” he pants into your ear, angry, almost.

“Good,” you breathe a smile, but he’s not satisfied.

“You couldn’t get enough of me too… I noticed.”

“You gave me pleasure,” you agree. “Lots of it.”

“That was a lot of seed… I haven’t spilled in days.”

He huffs into your ear, astonished and proud that he could do such a thing. You feel him shift to take a better look at you, fingers arrive to graze your temple as if to make sure you’re real, as if having his cock inside you wasn’t enough proof of that. They’re a little shaky, a little uncouth, but the touch is gentle enough, and sweet.

He's boasting again perhaps, you don’t know, but you give him a soft laugh, notice how he stops breathing momentarily when hearing the bright sound.

“I am filled to the brim with you, yes… It will take a while before I can take more.”

“...You have other holes in you,” he offers after a while, quite seriously, in fact. 

“Get off me, you beast,” you huff and squirm to get out from under him, but there’s a luscious grin on your face, a smile that tells him you would more than approve of his obscene ideas later. 

“This feels good,” he murmurs into your hair. “This feels right...”

He allows you to leave from under him, only whines when his cock gets exiled from your cunt. He misses the wet heat like a newborn child misses the womb, but you need to recover from the recent invasion. Seed gushes out from your hole, making a mess on the ground as he pulls you against him, wanting to cuddle you next.

You wonder if he even knows what cuddling means as you lie there with a sticky mess between your legs and the heat of an entire sun on your cheeks. You smile into the coarse, sweaty body hair tickling your nose, deciding it doesn’t matter whether he knows or not: the most important thing is that he wants to hold you like this.

“Yes,” you smile. “This feels right…”

Something blooms in your chest. An odd flower, persistent and sweet. 

The stars above are cold but motherly as they look down on you two: born again into a world that doesn’t want either of you. The only things that accept you now are flowers, birds, the wind and the rain, bees and salty sea, but that’s aplenty. That’s more than the whole of Crete could ever give you.

“Are you thinking about your hero,” he asks above you.

“What? No…”

“Good,” he rasps, so softly now that you start to fear he’s about to cry.

You are more than capable of lying, but Theseus hasn’t crossed your mind in hours: the last time it did, the memory was received with loath and disdain. Thinking about Theseus while you’re draped all over your Bull, his seed flowing out of your womb... What a ridiculous idea. 

The reason for his hardly disguised anger is laid out plain before you: he's just jealous like any other man. Somehow, it makes you feel even more glowy inside.You’re my hero, you want to say, but have no courage to spill out the words. He was balls deep inside you mere moments ago, but telling him this intimate truth seems to be too much.

It never occurred to him, then, that you would enjoy copulating with him. He fucked you with the impression that you needed thoughts of another man to make you wet… That perhaps with the help of the image of Theseus in your mind, you were able to come with his cock inside you. 

“My Bull,” you whisper. “Tell me your name. You must have a name…?”

His breath stops only for a moment, the heart in his chest gives an arduous beat before he answers.

“Asterion.”

Starry one…

Of course.

All monsters have names, usually the opposite of what they’re claimed to be. His birth is in heaven, in the stars; he belongs to the company of heroes and gods.

“Asterion,” you whisper it out into the night air while the animal an man both find their new home in your arms. “Your birth is written in the stars. Did you even know…?”

“Does that make me a hero?” He snorts, more old wounds torn open right before your eyes. 

You wriggle yourself out of his hold, but he avoids your stare. You lift a hand to bring those beautiful Olympian eyes back to you.

“It makes you immortal.”

Perhaps you should’ve known he would be enticed with an apple instead of tethers and deals. Or with a palm, held out with no intent to strike… 

It’s lovely, how he blinks every time he’s confused. You’ve yet to see him shy, but if he ever is, this might be the moment… You even catch him swallowing under that wild facial hair, an awkward blob right after that blink when his birthright is acknowledged.

But even more dumbfounded he becomes when he realizes you’re truly and veritably admiring him. When you whisper it to him – you’re my hero – and watch something shatter in him that was supposed to wrench itself free, that’s when he’s truly granted divinity.

Perhaps it was all about becoming animal again, allowing the other to have a sniff. Baring your throat and embracing the instinct to trust. Marrying your wild soul… The deepest magic of all.

#könig x reader #könig cod #könig x you #konig x reader #könig mw2 #konig x you #könig smut #könig fanfiction #konig smut #cod könig

[thekissofaphrodite]

Hiii im absolutely in-love with your writing and I was wondering if you could do Clarisse X daughter of Hecate (ive seen a few fics of this dynamic and as a child of Hecate and someone who has a massive crush on clarisse I love seeing works like those lmao)

THIS IS AMAZING OML. TYSM FOR REQUESTING THIS!! THIS IS SO FUN TO MAKE <33

Black Magic

Clarisse La Rue x Daughter of Hecate!Reader

Summary: Brewing potions and matchmaking is a fun but not much fun as admiring the infallible Clarisse La Rue.

Warnings: KISSING. (i noticed that almost all of my requests had this warning :P )

Author's Note: I'M BACK WITH MY LAPTOP! AND I'LL TAKE A DAY OFF FROM SCHOOL SINCE IM TIRED FROM TRAVELING BUT HERE I AM! I DO HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS.

__

You loved the smell of brewing potion.

As a child of Hecate, you and your half siblings were often known as witches and matchmakers at camp. But still, some campers looked you in the eye and would call you a freak, Boasting about how their godly parent were part of the olympians, pointing at your mother's lack of place beside the Olympians.

Still, you've got a queue of campers (Mostly girls) waiting outside your cabin, The first ones left your workshop with a big smile on their faces or clutching their best friend whispering excitedly.

you and your siblings don't exactly share the same power for your mother had blessed you with different, but divine powers, and sure enough, you got foreseeing.

But some also left with a distraught expression and muttering a string of curses at you...It's not your fault that that their crushes aren't interested in them! You're just a fortune teller!

__

"B-but this is a mistake! I love Presley! your magic is wrong!" Cried a girl from the aphrodite cabin, tears streaming down her cheeks, smudging her mascara, You gave her a sympathetic look before sighing.

"That's not what it said here..." You looked down at your cauldron with purple-ish pink bubbling liquid, The Boy, who you assumed was presley, had another girl in his arms, twirling her around as they dance into a romantic song. The aphrodite girl stormed away furiously, purposely knocking down several of your stacked candles and jars full of ingredients.

Then, You saw the girl bump into someone, It was Clarisse. The girl frowned, but then gulped when she saw Clarisse staring back at her.

The moment Clarisse saw you, her eyes soften a little bit, her lips curling into a smile as she watched you get flustered.

"Hey"

"Hey" You blushed as you hid your face in a book.

"Can i try?" Clarisse asked.

"Try what?" You raised your brow, staring at her carefully, The cauldron separating you two in between.

"That fortune potion thingy, I wanna know who i'd end up with" Her words made your heart break a little bit, You had a big crush on clarisse la rue the moment you stepped inside camp, and now here she is, you crush asking you to foresee her future with someone else.

You swallowed your disappointment and anger before nodding, your face frowning a little bit as you set your book down and grabbed a pair of scissors.

"I need a piece of your hair" You said, Clarisse then grabbed the scissors and cut a decent amount of hair.

She watched you carefully, her brown eyes glinting with admiration as you recited latin and greek spells before dropping her hair into the cauldron, the smoke started rising and the liquid started bubbling, at first, you thought your eyes deceived you, you saw yourself with clarisse, sitting under a tree your back leaned against hers as you two laughed, hands intertwined as the sun rays hit you two.

you became breathless, your body stiff, Clarisse was confused, her dark brows raised as she scanned your expression.

"Oh my gods, please don't tell me it's Chris Rodriguez" She said, she secretly hoped it would be you, the thought of chris rodriguez and her being all lovey dovey made her sick.

When she peaked into the cauldron, She felt victory, joy, ecstasy she couldn't describe it. Every happy emotions filling her as she watched herself and you in the cauldron, laughing while kissing each other's cheeks lovingly.

You became speechless while watching Clarisse's eyes beam with joy, You two stared at each other for a moment before the Ares girl took the matters to her hands and kissed you.

It took you a moment to process what's going on. Then you find yourself kissing her back, pulling her closer as her breasts pressed against yours.

You two were then interrupted by the sound of the door opening, you two quickly pulled away and stepped back. Clarisse pretended to look around while you improvised some words to save you and Clarisse from being caught.

Your half sister, Lou Ellen looked at you and Clarisse before going to her trunk, rummaging into her things.

"I'll have your strengthening draught ready by tomorrow" You blurted at clarisse, You looked at her and she stared back before nodding.

"Of course" She whispered.

As she left, You saw her wink at you cheekily before closing the door.

"What's that ares girl doing here?" Lou Ellen asked.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing at all" You whispered, still feeling her lingering touch.

A/N: THIS IS AMAZING OMG!!! I TRIED MY BEST TO MAKE IT MORE WITCHY AND STUFF BUT I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS!!

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #xy/n #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue #clarrise pjo #dior goodjohn

[aryxchse]

I just read your Percy Jackson x daughter of Persephone fic and I really would like to read one for daughter of Hekate.

I mean you still have me questioning my Cabin but for the sake of all those years that I was daughter of Hekate, I would love to read Percy Jackson x daughter of Hekate from you.

casted a spell on me / percy jackson x daughter of hecate! reader.

a / n : my wife y'all 👆🏻

warnings : cursing

- percy wanted to gift hazel a special crystal for her birthday

- but he never really understood the girl, nor the crystal things

- so which cabin everyone visits when stuff like this happens?

- the hecate cabin.

- you were the only one left in cabin when percy barged in

- while you were cleansing (?) your room

- "hello?"

- "i am so sorry- should i leave? am i intrupting something?"

- you shrugged him off with a laugh, saying that it's not important enough for him to leave

- and he happily stayed

- "you.. know hazel right?"

- "duh, she's my ride or die."

- and everything began like this

- there was 2 weeks until hazel's birthday and percy decided to use that time wisely

- and he was kinda glad that he started working early

- because, he get to spend time with you

- man he's already whipped, look at you doing magical stuff and casting a spell on the boy

- the last part was percy's own delusion but yeah, you could turn him into a pig and he would be thankful

- "you could gift her tarot cards as a bonus, she's interested in those."

- "...show me."

- this boy knows NOTHING

- and when you read his cards he was gasping like a little girl

- hes so amazed by you omg

- you could make up something for the uno cards and he would scream 'this girl fucking rocks!!'

- did i said hes whipped? do i have to??

- anyways back on hazel's birthday gift mission

- since you ran out from hazel's favorite crystals, somehow, you both got the chance to shop outside in the mortal world!!!!

- it was a perfect first date in percy's head

- he's asking you personal questions like which crystal is best for your aura or smth

- sneaky bastard

- you guys shopped together until night and lost your dessert for the week

- but who cares? it was the best date

- people saw percy leave with a different crystal each time after visiting your cabin

- you got this boy wear crystals for lucky charm

- he joked that he only needed you for luck but anyways-

- the mission was complete eventually

- but percy didn't left your side even after hazel's birthday

- you guys are ment to be together now okay?? it says that on your birth chart

- your zodiacs are matching too

- shut up you made him a manifest queen

- he lets you draw symbols on his arms for some reasons you came up with

- hes scared you're really making him obsessed with you, because of the amount of times you're in his head, is embarresing

- and he needed to make you his

- like immediatly

- or else he'll go crazy from his love

- maybe you did cast a spell-

- "i think i learned how to read your cards."

- when he said that in one of his regular visits, you couldn't help but get curious

- did he actually learned that fast?

- so you gave him your cards and picked a few, he started looking at them like he knew something

- it said that something will happen good this week

- but instead, percy said

- "you're in love with a raven haired boy aren't you?"

- you tried so hard not to laugh

- and it was true, so you let him play his game

- "oh my gods! how did you know?"

- he literally smirked

- "i'm a natural pretty."

- he started to look more, and told you to pick two more cards

- you could already see what it meant, but you were curious what he will say

- "hmm, this guy has gorgeous sea green eyes, man you have taste!"

- a snort left your lips but you quickly gathered yourself

- "can you see any initials??"

- "oh totally! the lovers card is upside down so it means p and j."

- you were turning red from holding your laugh at this point, and he started to get a feeling that you figured what he was doing

- no shit sherlock

- "how weird, doesn't that ring any bells to you too? or is it just me?"

- "maybe it's that hot dude called percy jackson?"

- "OHHHH yes!! i knew i remembered that initials from somewhere!!"

- you both burst into laughters

- "my dear student, i see you payed attention to my classes!"

- he laughed at your tease until he finally managed to answer

- "being in love with you helped."

- smooth, jackson. smooth.

#I HOPE U LIKE ITTTTT #because i somehow did?? idk #perseus jackson x you #percy x you #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #percy jackson series #pjo hoo toa #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson headcanon #pjo show

[spaceyaceface]

What Could Have Been

Sebastian Sallow x f!Reader (Unspecified Hogwarts House)

Word Count: 3.4k

Content Warnings: Heavy angst. This is not a very happy fic.

Summary:

She had been in love with Sebastian Sallow for some time. And she was afraid of having something to lose. After all, she knew all too well that good things always came to an end.

Now it was their last night together. What were they willing to lose?

Also available on AO3

"I don’t know how to mend it, When this chapter ended, When all of my plans have depended on you. But at least tonight we’ll still pretend, Hold each other close like it’s not the end.” - from "Dearly Departed" by Marianas Trench

Time had passed much too quickly. It felt like yesterday that she walked into the Great Hall for the first time, head spinning with the buzzing noise of students talking. The room still sounded the same—but it was now her last time sitting there as a student. 

Tomorrow morning, the last term of her seventh year would be over. She had no more classes to attend, no more essays to write, no more detentions to be served. She knew at least part of her should have been excited, but all she felt was dread. Was she the only one feeling like this? Was it because she had had so little time to enjoy her time here, compared to the rest of her classmates? She’d found that being a student at Hogwarts was much more than learning magic. It was having a home, knowing there was some place to belong. It was building friendships that felt more like family. 

She knew she was being a bit silly about all of it—after all, she wouldn’t really be leaving Hogwarts. Professor Hecate had offered her an apprenticeship; she had seen the girl’s talent in fighting the Dark Arts first hand in her fifth year, and thought she would make a wonderful Defense Against the Dark Arts professor when the time came. She wouldn’t be leaving. But nearly everyone else would. 

As she looked around the Great Hall, her eyes rested on each of her friends. Garreth was beginning his own line of potions—he was already doing well. Poppy was going into the Ministry, working to preserve Magical Creatures. Imelda had been accepted to fly with the Holyhead Harpies. They all had adventures to go on, lives to live freely. This was their parting of ways—would they ever be all together again? 

Her throat tightened as she saw Ominis and Sebastian sitting together across the room. Of all the friends she’d miss, they were easily at the top of her list. There had been a while she truly worried their little trio wouldn’t pull through. After Soloman’s death, Ominis found being around Sebastian almost unbearable—he felt a great deal of responsibility for the man’s demise. For that time, Sebastian was pretty much completely alone. But she had stepped in. She couldn’t let him wallow in his guilt (and there were times it had nearly consumed him) and tried to pull him back off the dark path he’d started treading. While not guilty in the same way, she a semblance of what he had been feeling—when Professor Figg died, she tore herself up for months afterward, grieving and regretting. Sebastian had helped her through it. They had learned to depend on one another when they weren’t feeling strong enough on their own. They had each other—and that was enough. Sebastian swore off the Dark Arts forever, and he was finally serious. There was no way to completely rid himself of the burden of his guilt—a guilt that had come from using an Unforgivable Curse. He never wanted to feel that way again. 

After some time, Ominis saw the change in Sebastian. The two began talking again—and they had pulled through. She was glad. She didn’t know what she would do without them both. 

Poor Ominis was going back home with his family, now that he was done with school—at least for a little while. He was planning on buying some little cottage and leaving them as soon as possible. And Sebastian—she had to look away from him as the memories clouded her head. 

It had just been a month ago. He’d sent her an urgent letter, telling her to meet in the Undercroft. When she had entered the room, he’d been pacing back and forth. This worried her. Usually, Sebastian only paced when he was concerned or thinking hard about something. But as soon as he spotted her, his face broke out into a wide grin. 

“I’ve got great news!” he said, marching up to her. “I’ve finally found a solid lead for Anne’s curse!” 

Her mouth dropped open. After all that time, Sebastian had never stopped looking for a cure for Anne. They were hardly on speaking terms—or more send-the-occasional-letter terms, really—but he was still looking for the cure he was sure was out there.

“A lead?” she asked. “How? What is it?” 

The whole story came spilling out of his mouth, and he spoke faster than she had ever seen him do. He detailed of the letters he sent, the books he had tracked down for mere sentences of information. But it had concluded in learning of some wizard who had extensive knowledge of healing curses.

“He’s agreed to help me. He’ll have loads to show me—to teach me. I’m sure something he knows will help Anne,” Sebastian said. “I leave for America at the end of the year.” 

She swore her heart shattered. 

Sebastian, gone to chase after a man in America? Why would he have done anything different? He’d always done everything he could for Anne—his care for his sister was still one of his driving forces. She loved that about him. 

Yes, loved. She loved Sebastian Sallow with every bit of her heart and soul. He was a troubled young man—but one who persevered through his problems with an unyielding determination. He was passionate in everything he did. He was like a fire, spreading himself far and wide with a heat and excitement that astonished her. And there were those times he calmed down enough to be a focused flame on the wick of a candle—something warm and careful, a light when the world seemed black. 

She had never told him this. Just as he had never told her how he felt. But it was there—present in every word, every moment they had together. It was there in the sleepless nights they spent in the Undercroft, fending away nightmares. It was there in the brushing of hands, the whispers of “are you ok?” It was there in aching embraces when it all became too much. 

She couldn’t tell him. No, she had always told herself, it was better left unspoken. Better left in the dark, where it could fade away when it had run its course. 

Better left where it wasn’t something to lose. 

Because that was what she was afraid of, wasn’t it? Both her and Sebastian had already lost so much. Families, friends, innocence—it had all been whisked away from them. To place hope in something—to give life to something good—well, losing it could be the end of either of them. 

That didn’t mean she didn’t want it—and God, did she want it desperately. There had been times she’d written it in a letter, only to burn it in the fireplace. Times she almost closed the distance between them, breaching the invisible wall they’d put up. There were nights she had stared up at the ceiling, deciding that tomorrow, tomorrow she’d throw all caution to the wind and let herself be happy for once, dammit.

But now, she was all out of tomorrows. 

Tomorrow, he left for America. Tomorrow, he was no longer hers. Tomorrow, she would be alone. 

There was no guarantee she would ever see him again. She’d run through every possibility in her head—it was all she had done since he’d told her his plans a month ago. He could go and find a cure, inviting Anne to join him across the sea. Maybe he’d find work there—be an apprentice to the healer, follow in his footsteps. Maybe—and this is what she feared the most—maybe he’d find some beautiful American girl, one who Sebastian for the dashing man he so obviously was, and he’d fall in love. 

He could have asked her to come with him. It was that thought that hurt her the most. She already knew what her answer would have been—a complete and undeniable yes. She would have followed him anywhere, if he had only asked. But he didn’t. 

How could he have asked that of her? To leave the home she had so recently found for some mere possibility? To leave a job that had been all but promised to her, to abandon everything she had come to know… No, no… he couldn’t ask that of her. 

She still would have said yes.

She said yes that very night, after her thoughts had cleared. It wasn’t to America that he had asked her to follow—only to the Restricted Section of the library. 

“For old time’s sake,” he said. He smiled down at her, his dark brown eyes enticing her. 

She smiled back. It had been one of their first adventures together—might as well be their last, too. “How could I say no to an offer like that?” 

And off they went. They waited together in the Great Hall until most of the other students had  gone off to bed, following the rule of curfew—a rule both she and Sebastian had long since disregarded. She said goodnight to Ominis and other friends as they filed out, making them promise to send letters. She couldn’t think too hard about the goodbyes—it would break her. Instead, she focused on the Disillusionment Charm she cast on herself as she and Sebastian walked quietly through the halls. She heard Sebastian chuckle beside her. She looked over at him, only seeing a hazy blur of motion in the shadows. 

“Something funny over there?” she said quietly. 

“Do you remember the first time we did this? You didn’t even know the Disillusionment Charm, and yet you were ready to go barging into the library, no second thoughts about it.”

She smiled. “I was a bit brash then, wasn’t I?”

“You say that like you aren’t now.” 

“Oh hush. I’m plenty brash. The difference is now I know enough to keep it from being my downfall.” She poked her head around the corner, eyes scanning for any prefects in the hall. She didn’t spot any, stepping forward. “Looks clear.” 

Into the library they went, sneaking easily past the dim lights and empty tables. Scribner didn’t seem to be there. Turned in early, perhaps, to prepare for travel the next day. 

At last they were marching down the familiar stairs of the Restricted Section. Even in her shortened time in Hogwarts, she was sure she came second to only Sebastian in the time any student had spent there. 

Sebastian sighed in comfort, taking the charm off of him. He went to a nearby shelf, finger brushing over the spines of familiar books. “Sure am going to miss having my own private library,” he said. 

“You’ll be miserable,” she told him. “I’d suggest packing enough books to keep you on your boatride over, but I doubt even an enchanted case could hold that many.” 

He laughed. “I’d say you’re making fun of me for all my reading, but it’s too true to be much of a joke.” 

“A proper and thorough education is nothing to make fun of, dear Sebastian.” She stood beside him, staring at the shelves. “You reckon you’ve really read every one?” “Twice over,” he said confidently. 

“Then which one is your favorite?” 

He thought for a moment. “It’s this way,” he said, leading her around the corner. Then he leaned down, staring hard at a lower shelf, arms crossed as he searched. Then he smiled. “Here we are!” The book he pulled out was intricately designed, with weaving patterns of gold decorating the cover. It was thick and clearly old, but well kept. “It’s a book of children’s tales. Some of them are quite gruesome, of course, and describe a bit too much of the curses and hexes in the stories, hence the being in the Restricted Section. The story I like is just fine, though.” He leafed through the pages, finally settling on a moving drawing of a maiden weeping, looking out a window. 

“Seems cheery,” she commented. 

“Well, it’s not for the most of it, but it ends alright. Happily ever after and all that,” he said, turning the pages. He was quiet at the moment, staring at the words the end on the last page of the story. “I think it’s the only one with a happy ending in the whole book. I don’t really remember much of the story.” 

She didn’t know what to say to that. It was… too real. Too fitting. He had to be wondering the same thing she was—would either of them have a happy ending? Were they lucky enough to be the single story in a book of sorrow that ended well? If their lives leading up to this point were any indication, she was inclined to say no. 

They spent a bit longer browsing books, Sebastian showing off some of the interesting spells and facts he had learned there. It was a walk down memory lane—one that she found comforting on that last night. Finally, they grew bored of already read books and parchment, and made their way back up the stairs. They had charmed themselves to fade away against the stone walls of the castle, and made their way together through them. She paused suddenly when she heard voices up ahead. 

“I’ve still got to finish grading the last essays they turned in.” She recognized the voice, of course—Professor Weasley. 

“That’s why I went with a practical exam for the final. Less papers to go through,” Professor Onai replied. 

Sebastian grabbed her hand from behind her—they were just around the corner. It was much too bright in this corridor—the charm would do nothing to conceal them. So, she let Sebastian pull her into a classroom just beside them. Well, she thought it was a classroom until she tried to step back and found a wall directly behind her. It was a closet—barely big enough to hold them both. 

Sebastian stood directly in front of her, trying to peer through the crack between the door and wall. He looked so awfully serious as he did—she couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up through her lips. Sebastian’s eyes widened at the sound, and his scandalized expression only made her laugh harder. He dove forward, pressing his hand over her mouth.

“Are you trying to get us caught?” he whispered. The voices of the professors had passed them by, leaving them in silence once again. 

She tugged away the hand over her mouth. “What are they going to do? Expel us?”

Now it was his turn to laugh. “Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past Black to do something like that.” 

“It would sure allow you to be remembered here,” she said. “Sebastian Sallow, the brilliant, troublemaking boy who made it all the way to his last day before getting kicked out.”

“Don’t forget his sidekick, who got the both of them kicked out with her ridiculous laughing.”

She gasped. “Oh, I’m the sidekick, am I?” 

“Well, most stories prefer to have a dashing and likable main character, and I fit that quite well, I think.” 

“I think you’re forgetting which of us wields a very rare kind of ancient magic.”

He waved a hand. “Semantics.” 

They were grinning at each other, light dim in the closet. She adored that mischief in his eyes. It made her feel alive. But slowly, his grin faded, face becoming more serious. 

No, she thought. No, he can’t say it. I can’t let him say it. 

“Do you want to go down to the boathouse?” she asked, before he had the chance to open his mouth. 

He nodded. “We couldn’t dare forget to say goodbye to our dear old friend, the squid.” 

She playfully shoved his shoulder before opening the door to the closet. The both of them tumbled out and soon found themselves outside, cool breeze blowing over them. The night sky was clear; the stars glimmered in the sky. 

Sebastian sat at the edge of the boathouse’s dock. She quickly joined him. 

“I’m going to miss this view,” Sebastian said quietly. 

It really was something. The Black Lake reflected the moonlight and stars, making her feel like she was surrounded by the night sky. 

She felt Sebastian’s gaze shift to her. “I’m going to miss you, you know.”

She bit her lip. “Don’t say that.” 

“Why not? It’s true.” 

“Just because it’s true doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt,” she said softly. 

It took him several moments to respond. “I know,” he finally whispered. He reached for her hand, taking it her own. “I don’t know what I would have done all this time without you.”

His voice was soft—softer than she’d ever heard it. She was so used to his confidence, his bravado. This softness scared her. It was too close to what they shouldn’t say. It implied too much. 

But she decided to let herself have that moment. They would toe the edge without coming over. They’d get close to that line, but never cross it. She leaned against his shoulder, resting her head on him. 

“I’m glad I met you, Sebastian. Truly.” 

She felt his body tense at the words—she knew exactly what was going through his head. How could that be the truth? How could she be glad to meet him, after all the pain he had put her through? She stayed quiet, letting the words sink in. The sincerity of them. 

“I’m glad I met you, too. Even if you had to knock me on my arse to do it,” he said quietly. 

She laughed a bit, relaxing into him. If she could just stay in this moment—this one where she could pretend he wasn’t leaving in a few short hours, this one where they held each other close, as if the words had been spoken, as if it was how it could be, she would. 

But she knew too well that all good things had an end, and this night was just the same. She didn’t know how long they had sat in silence, staring out across the water. It felt like lifetimes. It felt like seconds. Then they stood and began walking back to the castle. 

He didn’t let go of her hand. She was grateful for the comfort—she needed every once of it. He led her to her common room as they unspokenly decided to get it over with; to let the night end. 

With every breath, she felt her chest tighten. She had to let it go. He had never been hers—she needed to remember that. Nothing was ending, because it had never begun. 

They stood, face to face, in front of her common room door. She let go of his hand and threw her arms around him, pulling him into an embrace. His arms didn’t hesitate to hold her tight against him—like he was afraid to let go. She felt the pounding of his heart, his warm breath against her neck as he buried his face into it. All too soon, they broke apart. 

She stared up at him. Ask me. Ask me to come with you. 

I’d follow you. I’d say yes. 

But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he took a small step backward, letting the distance come between them. It was better this way, she thought. Of course it was. 

He was just about to turn to go when she spoke.

“Seb-Sebastian,” she said. Was her voice really that frantic? He turned around, facing her again. There was hope on his face—paired with dread. Her next words came out soft. “Write me, will you?” 

He nodded, still staring at her. 

And then Sebastian Sallow ruined it all. 

He marched up to her, placing his hand on her cheek, and before she could even think, he crashed his lips into her own. Her hands came up to grip his robe, holding him there, keeping them together. It was searing and haunting, soft and horrible. It was everything she had ever dreamed of, and that made it all the more painful. 

They parted. His eyes were closed as he pried her hands off of him. And then he left. 

She walked into the common room, shaking. She didn’t even have time to think if the room was empty or not before she collapsed to the ground, sob tearing out of her throat. 

He had done it. The idiot had done it. He had given her everything, and now she had lost it. The taste of what could have been haunted her—she knew in that moment that she would never be free. It would follow her each morning she woke up without him. It would keep her awake each night. She had gotten too close to the flame—she’d let herself burn. 

She wept, trying to forget the heat of his kiss—his kiss goodbye.

A/N: ... sorry about that, folks. This was heavily inspired by the song "Dearly Departed" by Marianas Trench, hence the title and quote above. I highly recommend giving it a listen.

Thanks for reading!

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow imagine

[hollowwrites]

Ominis Headcanons

🔥 This is my dumpster fire of Ominis 🔥

Burn with me.

I’ll refer to MC as Evelyn throughout this cause she’s my ship with Omi. This is basically my notes page. Things my conflict. Who cares? If anything grabs you please ask about it. You guys inspire me for way too much of my stuff 💚

I’m just gonna mix NSFW stuff in with this so 🔞MINORS DNI🔞

~

Fifth Year Ominis is too caught up in Sebastian’s bullshit to notice if he was going too far. He clings to any niceties afforded to him. You need help finding your class? Sure you can hold onto his arm. You’re aching from the Crucio ordeal? You can lean against him and have a nap with him. You become his coping method of losing Anne and Sebastian. He can forgive himself for opening up a little too much…he’s gone through a lot.

Sixth Year Ominis is straight denial. No they’ve always been this close they had to be because of Sebastian. Not that anyone else knows that. You just showed up and you’ve both been inseparable ever since. You’re just very good friends.

Seventh Year Ominis is determined, will stop at nothing until Evelyn is his (See Blindsided for evidence!!!)

Can touch his wand to things to see colour. Found out after he fell into Sebastian one time and jabbed him in the ribs. The Olive green of his waistcoat flashed across his eyes. Only discovered it that late in his life because by the time he’d gotten his wand he’d already become estranged from his family so kept away from them.

Has advanced Proprioception, the sense of knowing where your body is in relation to it parts. It extends to people around him so when he’s sat with his friends he doesn’t always need to have his wand out to know if they’re moving around. His wand extends and enhances it

His favourite subject is Defence Against the Dark Arts. He’s ridiculously good at it. I’ve wrote about good of a duelist I think he is here but I think it extends past that. He’s overheard so much at home he knows how to combat a lot of it. Good knowledge of curse both Unforgivable and otherwise. Probably caused a lot of tension in fifth year between him and Seb. Contributing factor to their iffy relationship because let’s face it they don’t really act like best friends.

Was an UNREAL seeker in third year. Won every match because he could hear the snitch from across the pitch. Imelda banned him after matches ended too quickly. Was completely unbothered, only joined because Seb begged him to

Tallest of the boys but doesn’t look it due to his posture being awful (Seriously why does he slouch so badly) (Does mean when he fully stands up he’s HELLA TALL)

Has little crescent moon shaped scars along his palm from clenching his fists in his sleep.

Really good friends with Garreth. I’ve wrote so much for those two I just can’t help it. He reminds him of Sebastian before his sister was cursed.

Has a really good relationship with Hecat. She told him stories in First Year about Professor Black from back in Hogwarts so he wouldn’t be scared of him telling his parents things. Probably why he’s not scared to talk to him.

Only speaks Parseltongue when he can’t control himself. When he’s angry, or in Pain or…other times 👀

Nicknames

Only uses terms of endearment as an insult. King of the ‘Oh Sweetheart’ in a smarmy way…still kinda hot

I don’t imagine he calls anyone by anything other than their full name. Sebastian is always Sebastian Never Seb.

Except Evelyn, she is everything but her full name. Unless he’s mad at her. Eve, Ev, V, Evie.

He’ll only call her pet names if the time calls for it i.e. I saw someone’s fic where he calls her Hummingbird and I LOOOOVE that (Sorry can’t remember who that was but THANK YOU!)

‘Be honest with me, Little Hummingbird. Your heart is so fast, I know you’re lying’

Liberal use of ‘Good Girl’ in the bedroom but only after they’re comfortable with each other.

‘Be a Good Girl and get on your knees for me’

🔞 NSFW Headcanons 🔞

He’d be the best to lose your virginity to. He would absolutely be tender and sweet. I love Dominis as much as the next gal but he would be so sweet

He’s either planed the whole thing and everything perfect (Undercroft all lit up with candles and blankets and VERY STRONG locking charm on the gate) or it’s the most wonderful spontaneous event (piled up breathless on the floor of the prefects bathroom)

Speaking of one or the other, Ominis is either the sweetest most gentle man on the planet or he is absolutely insatiable ravenous filth.

Likes choking, spanking and biting. Like pulling the little gasps and moans and hisses from her.

FOREPLAY KING he cannot see! You cannot tell me he doesn’t love hearing how worked up she gets until she’s begging for him (Loves begging too)

No guy is good at fingering but…👀 he is. It just touching and fingers THATS HOW HE GETS AROUND ON A DAY TO DAY BASIS HE IS GOOD AT THAT SHIT!!

Hates whenever you have to be quiet. Almost makes it a game to see if he can force her to make a noise.

Other posts where I spout waffle about Ominis here and here and here

Masterlist

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hogwarts #hogwarts headcanon #hogwarts houses #hogwarts oc #slytherin #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis gaunt #hogwarts ominis #hogwarts fanfiction #hogwarts legacy ominis gaunt #ominis my beloved #ominis fluff #ominis x mc #ominis x you #ominis hc #ominis x reader #ominis x oc #ominis x y/n #ominis imagine #ominis headcanon #ominis hogwarts legacy #headcanon #Drabble #ominis smut #ominis fanfic #ominis x player character #harry potter hogwarts game #hogwarts legacy

[orqheuss]

I like my body when it is with your body

(Ominis Gaunt/Sebastian Sallow/GN!Reader SMUT)

Summary:

Sebastian believes that he doesn't deserve to be happy after everything he's done. His partners don't agree, and are hellbent on proving him wrong the best, and most effective, way they know how.

***

Title from the E. E. Cummings poem, "I like my body when it is with your"

word count: 8k

AN: I'm reposting all of my fics from ao3 on to here for easier access! We're starting with the smut.

Sebastian was tired. Today had been another long day trapped away in his office, filing report after report of his findings in the latest tomb he had explored. The life of a curse breaker never stopped. All he wanted to do was go home and curl up next to his partners. They’d each take turns stroking his hair and smoothing the stress from his shoulders like they always did when he had an exhausting day and he’d relax into their sides, falling asleep to the soft sound of their heartbeats. He was fortunate enough to work close to home, only having to venture out of the comforts of London every so often for a day or two, but each trip away made him desperately crave a life of simplicity. Even being away from his two loves was torturous— he always wanted to be near them, always wanted to know that they were safe and with him. There were some days where he didn’t believe that he deserved their love, their kindness, their understanding of his busy schedule. Ever since his sister was cursed by the villain, Victor Rookwood, he had been set on this path for his life. The aftermath of that dreadful day in the catacombs only solidified it for him— he would never use dark magic again, instead he would protect the wizarding world from it one cursed vault at a time. 

He thought fondly of his seventh year at Hogwarts, how each of you had stressed about what you wanted to do with the rest of your lives. While he may have had it figured out, you and Ominis were a wreck to say the least. With the gift of ancient magic pulsing under your skin, you had originally thought about becoming an Auror and working alongside Sebastian with Gringotts bank, nearly causing the blond of the trio to have a conniption. He was already stressed at the prospect of the brunette being in danger nearly everyday, he couldn’t stand the idea of you being there as well. He knew that you both could hold your own, but it certainly didn’t help his heart. If anyone asked him, he would say that the incessant schemes you both got up to during your school years had left that organ of his half as strong as it used to be and caused more than enough grey hairs to go with it— he was basically an old, fretting man already. In the end you had agreed with him, deciding that you had earned a simple, safe life after everything that you had gone through over the last three years. It just so happened that Professor Hecat had decided to step down from her position as the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, meeting with you personally and offering the job to you as soon as you had graduated. It was an easy choice, and you were the happiest you had ever been working at the school you loved so much. Ominis was a mess at the beginning, constantly pacing around thinking about what he wanted to do— what path he should choose. He had considered following in his father’s footsteps and working in the Department of Mysteries for the Ministry, but quickly pushed that idea to the side; the idea of having anything to do with his family, even sharing a job title, was absolutely abhorrent. He considered becoming a Professor as well, he loved teaching, but that seemed to not be in the cards either with none of the faculty leaving anytime soon. Finally, you both had sat him down and talked him through his stresses, coming up with a possible list of things he could do with his high scores and brains; the final verdict was an inventor of magical tools. He was proficient in the art of tinkering and had a passion to help those in the wizarding world who began their life with as many struggles as he did. 

Yes, the trio were very happy together. 

Even with all the good things happening in his life, the unconditional love of his partners and his rewarding job, Sebastian couldn’t help but still feel a gnawing guilt for his actions in his fifth year of school. It had been years at that point since he had even uttered an unforgivable curse, but the taste of the words still left a bitterness in his throat that wasn’t going to go away any time soon, if at all. Some nights he still woke up in a sweat, the look in his uncle's eyes as the sage green spell hit him in the chest and stopped his heart forever burned into his memory. He would quietly sneak out of bed and sit in your living room, a cup of calming tea clasped between his hands as he watched the sun streak over the horizon. He was acutely aware that both of his partners knew about his nightmares, but every time they tried to talk to him about his trauma he would just shrug it off with a smile and a kind word in their direction. He could deal with this himself— it was his cross to bear. He hoped that they hadn’t pieced together the depth of his regret and guilt about everything he did, though. Sebastian knew that he would never hear the end of it if they ever discovered how much he loathed himself and his actions sometimes, how often he questioned why they had even decided to be with him and not someone else with a better mental view of the world, a better attitude towards the future and the past. He loved them both more than words could describe— more than there were stars in space; he would do absolutely anything for them— had done dreadful things for them already, but sometimes he worried that he wasn’t truly enough. 

The boy was truly obtuse sometimes, even with his high marks and proclivity to all things magic. Of course his partners were aware of his self loathing, they knew him better than anyone else in the world— they would know him just as much in death as in life, and had been working hard to concoct a plan for how to break him from his funk. They had puttered meticulously around the day, making sure everything was absolutely perfect for their love when he got home. He always took care of them; you with your trauma with Rookwood and the battle under the school and Ominis with his family and everything they did to him until he was old enough to break away from their strangling grasp, but he refused to let them take care of him and his needs. Quite frankly, they were sick of it. They could see the stress under his skin withering away the joy he once had for his life and it broke their hearts. It was time to break that cycle and show him how much they truly cared about him. 

Dropping the last file from his never ending pile of reports onto his desk without a care, he glanced at the clock ticking away above the arched doorway of his private office. Just in time to go home. With a renewed sense of energy, Sebastian quickly gathered his things scattered around the room and rushed out the door, waving bye to a few of his colleagues as they called out for him to have a good weekend, and apparated home without a second thought. 

Little did he know, the lovely curse breaker had an even lovelier surprise waiting for him when he got home, that was for sure. 

Apparating into their shared living room, he noticed two things right off the bat. First, the lights were dimmed around the entire house, candles floating just below the ceiling and casting a romantic glow across the walls, and second, there was a path of clothes leading down the hall towards their shared bedroom. He could distinctly point out Ominis' favorite waistcoat, a gaudy thing that looked like it was skinned right off of his grandmothers couch, and your Professors robe, iridescent hues of forest green and gold decorating the velvet and fleece. His heart stuttered in his chest, a blush making his way across his face and down his neck at the prospect at what he was about to find waiting for him. Even after all these years, the two of you could still make him as flustered as a school boy. 

He delicately made his way down the hallway, stepping around the clothes, his heart beating steadily but fast in his chest as he heard the soft laughter of his partners seep through the cracked doorway. Sebastian gulped lightly in his throat, steadying his nerves before gently pushing the door to their master suite open and taking in what was waiting for him. 

Resting on your shared bed was his two partners, sprawled out in nothing but their underclothes and a beautiful red flush dancing along their skin. They each were already panting in need, likely from a bit of foreplay before he had gotten home. The idea of them beginning without him so they could jump right into action when he got there made his brain short circuit, static filling it for a moment as he processed everything in front of him. He cast his eyes around the room, taking in everything the both of you had done to set the mood— he wanted to appreciate your effort, after all. Floating above your nightstands and chest of drawers were more candles, their gentle flame creating enticing shadows around the room and glowing against the sweat shining on your skin. A mix of red, salmon, and burgundy rose petals decorated the foot of the comforter and the floor around the four poster bed, filling his nose with the sweet aroma of vanilla and flowers. You and Ominis had gone all out for him, and his heart filled with love at the idea of you both taking the time out of your day to make the night special. Sebastian momentarily racked his brain, stressing slightly that he forgot some important date, but he came up empty. What was the occasion?

In all honesty, he couldn't really give a damn. He was just happy to be there.

Flirting his eyes back to the pair of bodies adorning the silver colored bedspread, heat began to burn in his stomach and fuel the fire in his loins. Sebastian lightly groaned, an absolutely sinful noise making its way out of his throat, as he tilted his head back to the ceiling in elated disbelief. He could already feel his trousers tightening around his growing member as he verbalized the thoughts and prayers swirling around his mind. 

“Merlin, God, Buddha, Ra, whomever is up there— I don’t know what I did to deserve this gift, but thank you.”

His partners laughed at his little speech, making their way from the bed to their very bothered partner and flanking either side of him. The heat from their bodies seeped through his suit jacket, spreading over his arms and flowing from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. He sighed in pleasure, both of his hands reaching up and threading his fingers through yours and Ominis’ hair as you each began to suck light bruises on his neck. Sebastian felt like he died and had gone to heaven, tugging you both away by your roots and smashing his lips against the closest of the two— in this case it was Ominis. He gripped the blond by his hips, letting go of you and allowing you to sit on the bed once again and watch the show as he proceeded to stick his entire tongue down the blond’s throat. The smaller of the two moaned against his lips, his lovely long fingers reaching up to the broad shoulders of his partner and pulling the jacket from his form with enough force to make Sebastian slightly lose his balance. Ominis took this as the perfect moment to strike, taking the taller of the two by surprise and shoving him roughly into the wall behind them. The brunette sucked a breath through his teeth, his pupils doubling in size with unrestrained lust coursing through his blood. Ominis attacked his throat once again, one hand tracking his nails lightly down the other boy’s cheek before his fingers wrapped around his neck and squeezed. A heady whine left Sebastian’s throat, feeling his head get slightly fuzzy at the lack of air and the transcendent burn of his partner’s kisses down his jaw and under his shirt collar.

Ominis chuckled against the column of the brunette’s throat, the arousal heavily present in his voice sending shivers down Sebastian’s spine and even more heat to his core. The blond harshly sunk his sharp canines into the soft skin connecting the other boy’s neck to his shoulder, roughly tugging at the collar of his shirt to get a better grip, before licking the spot and whispering with a seductive drawl, “I’m going to take my time with you tonight. Do you remember the safe word?” 

Sebastian groaned, his eyes rolling to the back of his head at the feeling of his partner’s sweltering breath against his pulse point and nodded. You both were going to be the death of him, he was sure of it. 

Ominis laughed again, a breathy thing that made the brunette’s heart stutter, and cascaded his fingers down the front of his partner’s chest with bone-chillingly leisure touches. Moving his hands back up to the collar of the freckled boy’s shirt, drawing a shaking breath from his lungs in the process, he undid each button with tantalizingly slow movements. A moan lodged itself just under Sebastian’s jaw, only being freed by the feeling of lips returning to his pulse and slowly making their way down his chest as each new bit of skin is revealed to the cool wind of the bedroom. Ominis smiled with mischief against the brunette’s neck, taking the delicate skin against his jugular and sucking a bruising hickey for all the world to see on his absolutely enticing partner.  

The blond breathed against his collarbone, feeling his way down the large expanse of skin that he had revealed and grabbing at the brunette's hips under the starched fabric. "It's an act of sacrilege for you to have to wear clothes."

Ominis reached his fingers dangerously into the trail of hair leading down his partners stomach and dipped the tip of his middle finger under his belt. Sebastian grabbed at Ominis’ shoulders, begging for something but not knowing quite yet what he wanted— what he needed. With bruising strength, the smaller man grabbed the other’s wrists and pinned them against the wall by his hips, a needy whine choking its way out of his partner’s mouth.

“No touching until I say so.” 

Sebastian feebly nodded his head, thinking better of it and instead whimpering a soft affirmative. Ominis smiled, letting go of his wrists now that he was confident that they weren’t going anywhere, before ever so slowly pulling the shirt from the brunette’s shoulders and tossing it towards the other corner of the room like it affronted him, barely missing one of the many candles that decorated the space. The bulge in the taller boy’s trousers was getting painfully hard, straining against the zippered fabric of his formal-wear. This side of Ominis always excited him, the ability to completely release all of his stress and have someone else take over for him filling his mind with delicious bliss. Satisfied by the heaving breaths shaking his partner’s chest and brushing against his cheeks, the blond clasped his hand where it was resting once again against the larynx of his very flustered boyfriend and squeezed slightly harder than before. Sebastian’s eyes fluttered closed at the feeling, sighing as Ominis began to leave open mouthed kisses on his collarbones, trailing down his chest and stopping to bite lightly at his nipple. A shocked grunt left the brunette, slightly choked around the hand still lightly cutting off his airflow, and moaned into the air. 

Just behind where the two boys were, Sebastian could hear a second set of heavy breaths, arousal spiking through his veins at the thought of their third pleasuring themselves to the sight of their foreplay. Soft moans filled the space just beyond where the blond had him pinned, the sound of cloth rubbing against skin danced through his ears like the most stunning piece of music. He wanted to reach out for you, take you into his arms and snog you until you forgot your name before taking you right then and there against the wall. 

Ominis, hearing your sounds just as well, if not better, than Sebastian, leaned towards the brunette’s ear, nipping at his lobe before whispering breathlessly against his skin. “You sound so sinful against me, Sebastian, like I should be struck down just for the thought of running my tongue along your skin.” He deeply inhaled the scent of the brunette’s arousal, a combination of sweat and something primal. “You’re doing so good so far— such a good boy— our perfect boy. Will you continue to be a good boy for me and watch our friend while I tear the rest of your clothes off of you?” 

Sebastian whined again, a pitiful sound that sent fire directly to the blond’s throbbing member, before nodding around the hand holding him to the wall. 

Ominis chuckled deeply in his chest, absolutely intoxicated by his boyfriend’s submission.

“Good. I’m going to release you, now. I need you to tell me everything they’re doing. Give as much detail as possible. Am I clear?” 

With a frantic nod of his head, Sebastian creaked open his eyes and met yours. The air in his chest stilled at the sight before him, a bolt of electricity striking down his body and nestling itself right in his lower stomach. His member was absolutely leaking at this point, painting his pants and trousers with an alluring wet spot. Ominis sank to his knees in front of the brunette, trailing his fingers down the sides of his thighs and drawing intricate patterns along the seams. The taller boy didn’t think that his heart could beat any faster, any harder in his chest— one more shock and it may as well burst from behind his ribs. He could already feel the tightening of the knot in his stomach, his orgasm approaching embarrassingly fast and without being touched by either of the people he loved. He had never felt this pent up before, never felt this loved , this wanted .

Ominis began to untie his dress shoes, taking his sweet time on each knot before pulling them off and beginning on his socks. He lightly pinched the skin by Sebastian’s ankle, startling the other man out of his pleasured bliss and reminding him of what he was asked to do. Focusing on you again, he recounted each of your movements to the blond, struggling desperately around the dryness of his mouth. 

“Oh fuck, t-they’re touching themselves over their pants. They have a gorgeous blush covering their entire body, glowing with a beautiful shade of pink— like the sunrise. Their eyes are hooded— shit, they’re absolutely dripping, Ominis. Their noises are driving me crazy, can you hear them? I know you can, I can feel how much you like them.” 

Ominis was now level with his groin, his searing breath ghosting over where the brunette desperately needed his hands, his mouth, anything. Deft hands worked on his belt, slowly undoing the buckle and pulling the leather out of the loops at a snail's pace. Ominis made sure to slide the smooth fabric along his skin, knowing how much Sebastian loved the idea of him and his belt, absolutely helpless to his whims. Giving the panting boy a small taste of what’s to come, he pressed his lips teasingly against the wet spot next to his zipper, mouthing lightly at the tip of his pulsing cock and murmuring into him. 

“Look at you, being so obedient for me, Sebastian. You're doing so amazing. What else do you see? Be my eyes.” 

Sebastian sucked in a breath, a feeble whimper sneaking its way out of his parted lips. The knot in his stomach continued to tighten, sending shivers of pleasure from his nose to his fingertips and making his member twitch, still buried under two layers of cloth. His entire body buzzed with energy, his hands shaking steadily at his sides with a frantic need to card his fingers through the blond hair just within reach. 

“Merlin, Ominis, you’re killing me.” His breathing was shaky, small pants entering and exiting his lips and making him dizzy, “They look bewitching— absolutely hypnotizing. They’re parting those lips you love so much, both looking quite bruised and plump— your doing I’m guessing, you devil. Gods this is positively filthy—”

A loud swear shocked its way through his system, his head falling back against the wall with a loud thump as his blisteringly hot cock was released to the chilly air around them; its dripping head smacking against his lower stomach and streaking his pale skin and mousy brown hair with precum. Sebastian reached his hand towards his domineering boyfriend in a risky movement, gently brushing against the stray hairs that had fallen out of his styled quiff with intent to reach farther into his tresses and pull him closer to where he needed him. Ominis roughly grabbed his wrist before his fingers could go any further, pushing his hand back into place next to his now naked hips before taking his leaking cock in the other, giving it a sharp tug as a warning. 

A wanton moan filled the room, ricocheting against the walls and spilling into the ears of you and the blond. Sebastian was positively trembling with want, his orgasm creeping closer and closer to the surface as apologies spilled from his lips like the finest of wines.

Ominis growled at his lover’s sounds, biting at the squishy meat of his thigh in violent arousal. “Merlin, you sound destroyed already and we’ve barely touched you. Is that what you want? You want us to completely ruin you like a common whore? Beg for it— beg for what you want, my darling.” 

“Please, please, I’m so close let me cum please —” The brunette whimpered, tears pricking at the corners of his vision from the pressure building in his gut.

“You’ll cum when I tell you to, you—”

“Ominis, I think he’s had enough for now. Bring him over here so we can continue with the plan for the night, please.” You simper, cutting him off. A smug look turned up the corners of your face at the fucked-out expression of your normally composed partner. 

Sebastian released the breath he didn’t know he was holding, his knees nearly giving out underneath him in relief as Ominis released him. The blond pushed him harder into the wall, leaning forward and smashing a ferocious kiss to his lips. A groan broke from his mouth only to be swallowed down by the other boy. Giving one more teasing squeeze around his throat, Ominis separated himself from the brunette and began to lead him towards the large king size bed they all shared. Sebastian hadn’t had a chance to truly look at everything laid out for him on the bed linens, his eyes were completely enraptured by the sight of his nearly naked loves as soon as he entered the doorway. Tied tightly to the headboard of the four poster were two silk scarves, emerald green and shining in the candle light. He gulped to himself, swallowing around the fear and pure arousal stuck in his windpipe, before carefully sitting down on the bed, collapsing back onto it while he willed his breathing to control itself. 

You leaned over him, pressing feather light kisses to his star-covered eyelids and cheeks. “Do you need a moment before we continue, my love?” 

He nodded minutely, letting his heart go back to normal speed and his orgasm to wean off again. The three of you sat in a soft silence for a few moments, pressing gentle kisses to every inch of skin you could reach on the brunette boy. 

Ominis kissed him again, much lighter than he originally did but with just as much love behind it, before bringing his hand up to his cheek, tenderly brushing his thumb along his cheekbone and whispering against his lips. “Was that too much for you? Please let me know, beautiful.” 

Sebastian leaned into the loving touch, bringing his hand up and wrapping his trembling fingers around the blond’s wrist. He softly shook his head, pressing a kiss to the boy’s palm before snuggling even closer to the warm contact. 

Ominis hummed to himself, deducing that the other boy needed another moment before he could easily speak again. “I need more than that, Seb.” He smoothed the brunette’s hair from his sweaty forehead, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his skin. “Tap once for yes, twice for no. Are you truly okay? Do you want to keep going?” 

The freckled boy scoffed lightly, his breathing starting to slow down to a manageable pace, and tapped his finger once against the smaller boy’s wrist. Peaking his eyes open once again, he saw a slow, devilish smile make its way across Ominis’ face. His heart leapt in his chest again and he fumbled for a moment, unsure if it was out of nerves or pure, inordinate levels of devotion. 

Ominis pawed his other hand around the bed, searching for the third member of their trio before finding your hand and squeezing it. You leaned over Sebastian, smoothing his tangled curls down and pressing an affectionate kiss to his lips for the first time of the night. He could feel the care you both had for him spilling from your souls and wrapping his own in the softest blanket he had ever felt. He truly didn’t deserve you both. 

“Can you scoot up the bed for me, Sebastian? Lie yourself against the pillows and let us take care of you.” 

He did as he was told, leaning back against the soft feather-down pillows and relaxing into the silk of the linens. You straddled his hips, pressing kiss after kiss to his temple, his nose, his cheeks, and finally his lips once more. This kiss had more heat behind it, more hunger. He could tell how worked up you had gotten from his session with Ominis as you lightly grinded your pelvis against his, drawing a startled mewl from him that slowly transformed into a melodic moan. Reaching to where his hands had rested themselves on your hips, you grasped his wrists in your palms and raised them above his head, mouthing against his jaw and neck. With a soft mumble, Sebastian felt the tell-tale feeling of your ancient magic swirl around his arms, stretching up and wrapping the green silk around his wrists, binding them together and securing them against the bed frame. 

He softly laughed, nipping lightly at your bottom lip when you moved back up to his mouth. “Did you just use your deeply ancient, completely unexplored magical powers to tie me to the bed?” 

You giggled against his mouth, dipping down to slot your lips with his once again. “So what if I did?” 

With a hum, Sebastian chased your lips for another kiss, his noise morphing into a whine as you moved farther away. He was already starting to hate these binds. 

You got off his lap, sitting next to his head to his left while Ominis took the spot to his right. Sebastian could see how you gnawed at your bottom lip with nerves, how Ominis wrung his hands together as he came up with the right words to say, and he felt his heart drop into his stomach. Now was the time for the true reason you had done all this for your beloved. 

Ominis spoke first, his voice much softer than the domineering presence he originally held. “Sebastian, we know what you think of yourself. I may be blind, but we both aren’t stupid.” 

You laughed, “Well I might be a little stupid sometimes, but not about this, though.” 

The blond snorted, trying to cover it up with a cough before turning once again towards Sebastian and meeting his eyes. Sebastian has known Ominis since first year, but the accuracy he had with finding another's eyes and holding contact even without being born with the gift of sight always intrigued and slightly unnerved him. He gulped, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights.

“You have done so much for us. You love us unconditionally— spread yourself thin at your job and still come home to us with so much love to give. We could never wish for anyone else in our lives, yet you question our devotion— our care for you.” 

Guilt crawled up Sebastian’s chest like the spindly legs of an acromantula and nestled itself under his ribs. He looked down, breaking the eye contact that burned into his skull, pulling his deepest feelings out into the open. You softly turned his chin towards you, forcing him to meet your eyes and see the eternal, unrestricted love you held for him. 

“My love, there is no question that you deserve us— deserve the love that we have for you. But, if you still don’t believe us, we have no choice but to show you exactly how much we want you— need you.”

Raising to your knees, you straddled his hips once again. Flicking your finger towards his binds, they unwound themselves from the head board and wrapped the rest of the fabric around his wrists, binding them together and locking his arms on either side of his head. Ominis pressed his hands to Sebastian’s upper back, gently lifting him from the soft sheets and slotting himself behind the boy, bringing his arms up a bit more and curling them behind his neck, elbows bent by his ears. He kissed the skin of his partner's biceps lazily, tracing his fingers along his cheek and jawline. A blush began to creep its way over Sebastian’s face, starting from the apples of his cheeks and working its way down over his nose, neck, and collarbones. You had never seen a prettier color in your life. 

Feeling the pulsing heartbeat of your nervous lover drew a wide grin across your lips, corners stretching across your cheeks and feeling like they could touch your ears. Your lips traveled across Sebastian’s jugular, flirting downwards with feather-light pecks and drawing gasps from the lungs of your beautiful boy. You gnawed teasingly at his hip bone, hair sliding along the thing the brunette longed for you to touch, before whispering against his clammy skin. 

“We are going to go back and forth, telling you one thing that we love about you until we either run out, or you finish. Whichever comes first.” 

With that, you licked a long, languished stripe along the underside of his throbbing member, stifling his reply in his throat and causing one of the loudest sounds you had ever heard the boy make to cascade out of his pink, parted lips. Ominis groaned against Sebastian’s neck, making love bites everywhere he could reach— his throat, his shoulders, his collarbones, everything, and bucked his hips against the curve of the other boy’s ass. Sebastian bit his lip in desire, feeling just how much the blond had been affected by their erotic play earlier. 

Kissing the tip of the brunette’s leaking cock, drawing a stuttered breath from his lungs and stretching your smile even wider, you murmured against his happy-trail. “I’ll go first. I am utterly enraptured by your courage and bravery. Even in moments of intense distress, you still stood by our sides and protected the ones you love.” 

You pressed another kiss to his burning skin before leaning up on your elbows and taking him into your mouth, moving up and down at an incredibly slow pace and drawing long moans out of your partner. Sebastian threw his head back in ecstasy, opening up the column of his throat further to his bite-happy boyfriend. He nipped at the skin just behind his ear, smoothing the pain away with a gentle lick and kiss. 

Ominis whispered tantalizingly in his ear, “My turn. I love your kindness and generosity. There isn’t a day where I don’t think about the little things you do for me and smile.” 

The brunette whined, tears of pleasure and happiness building behind his lashes once again. He refused to open his eyes and look at either of his partners, all too aware that if he met either of their gazes he would lose his composure completely. Just then, you took him all the way into your mouth, the tip of him tapping against your uvula, and moaned around him, sending supernovas of stars behind his eyes and blazing through the warmth in his chest. 

Well, so much for composure. 

If his hands were free, Sebastian’s fingers would be digging into your scalp, pulling at the roots of your hair in an alternation of rough and gentle pressure. He wanted desperately to touch his lovers, but he didn’t dare disobey their orders. He wasn’t afraid of their punishment, but in complete honesty he wanted to savor this moment. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like this— this level of affection and tenderness. 

Swallowing around his throbbing manhood, you sucked in your cheeks and dragged yourself up, up, up to his tip once again, humming around his never-ending sounds of pleasure and sending ricochets of vibrations along his entire body. 

You licked at his slit, collecting the elixir that continuously flowed from there and spoke again, arousal lacing your tone. “I love how much you care. You always put us before you, even when we’re being right bastards.” You laughed, pressing your smile to the skin of his inner thigh, “I also hate it, though, because you never let us spoil you rotten.” 

Ominis placed his hand against Sebastian’s throat for a fourth time that night, not squeezing, but simply holding it in a possessive grasp. The unseemly sounds of you working the brunette to release filled his mind and sent burning fire to his pelvis, leading him to press his burning, still very clothed, cock against the other boy’s lower back. He willed himself to remain still— this was Sebastian’s night, not his. His freckled partner had other plans though, and grabbed at the hair at the base of his neck and slightly pulled, whimpering into the air around him with need. 

“Please pleasure yourself, Ominis. I want to feel you against me— I need to feel you.” 

The blond swore, dropping his head back to the brunette's throat and roughly biting at his pulse, seceding to his wish and harshly grinding against him. At this point Sebastian's skin was littered with speckles of black and blue bruises and reddened teeth marks. He could feel everything, the silk wrapped around his wrists and against his legs, the smooth breaths of the blond at his back— the rise and fall of his chest, your teeth gently grazing the large vein at the underside of his member, sending delicious shivers up his spine and filling his mind with static. He could especially feel the tightening of his abdomen as his orgasm got dangerously close to the surface for a second time. He was in absolute, erotic bliss. 

Ominis grunted deep in his throat, leaning down and breathing hotly against the brunette’s ear as he whispered his next bout of praise. “Surprisingly, I love how stubborn you are. It’s a relief, sometimes, to know that nothing can change your mind about how you feel towards us. I’ve never felt so desired, so cared for, so loved.” He chuckled airily, “That being said, it’s only nice when it’s not being used against me.” 

Sebastian whined loudly when he felt your nose brush against the hairs at the base of his cock, his hips stuttering and bucking more of himself into your awaiting throat. Tears had begun to spill down his cheeks at that point, only to be wiped away by Ominis’ gentle fingers. 

You laugh again, releasing him with a pop. “What do you want us to do to you, sweet boy? Use your words.” 

The sounds dripping from his lips were absolutely sinful— his begs and pleads filling the space around them. “Please, please , Merlin, you're going to murder me, you filthy bastards. I love you both so much— I need to be inside you, to have you inside me, anything . I can’t take it anymore, I need to feel one of you fill me and the one of you cumming around my cock.” 

Your breathing stuttered in your chest at the crassness of his words and the sharp buck of Ominis’ hips— a deep, heady groan rumbling both of your bodies from the usually quiet blond. Quickly detangling yourselves, you help Sebastian to lie down on the pillows once again, unbinding his wrists in the process and delicately kissing the bruised skin from his constant wiggling and pulling. 

The taller boy finally blinked his eyes open, gazing with half his normal amount of focus into yours. Your blinding smile brought one of his own to his lips, sending his heart aflutter as you caressed his cheekbone. Your pupils flicked left and right as you took all of him in, feeling yourself sink into his beautiful brown irises. 

A loving sigh parted your lips as you drawled against his lips, “I think it’s my turn again. I love your eyes— I feel like I could get lost in them for the rest of my life.”

Grinding down on his hard length, your purred more muted praise against his throat. Ominis slithered behind the both of you, sliding his hand down along your spine and pushing you forwards so you were pressed chest to chest with the flustered man. Sebastian groaned at the sudden skin on skin contact, heat permeating through his flesh and directly into his soul. A sudden mewl from you shook him from his stupor, causing him to crane his neck to the left with as much speed as he could muster and watching what the pretty blond was doing at his feet. Color flooded his cheeks yet again at the sight of his long, lithe fingers prodding in and out of your entrance, stretching you just right so he could fit. Breathy moans continued to fill the air as you both moved against each other, pushing and pulling in rhythm with the smaller boy’s fingers.

You breathed against the brunette's lips, whining around your teasing words. "Do you think you can handle both of us? One of us bouncing on your throbbing, delicious cock while the other fills you to the brim?"

Sebastian swore at how uncouth you were being, nodding his head with enthusiastic rapture.

You keened, Ominis hitting that spot just inside of you that sent pleasure right to your core. "Good boy. I knew you could do it. I've been thinking about this all day— could barely keep my hands off of our boyfriend for long enough to make this perfect for you."

Ominis leaned down and bit you roughly on the behind, marking you as his own just as he did to the taller boy, before moving further into you and prodding at your entrance with his skilled tongue. Sebastian nearly wept at the sight, sinking his own teeth into your fleshy shoulder to muffle the noise. The blond sharply smacked his thigh, growling around his own arousal. 

“Don’t muffle yourself. Let the world know how well we fuck you.” 

Relinquishing his fingers from your tight entrance, he took Sebastian into his hand, gave him a few more slow, mind numbing strokes, and sunk you both into sweet, connected euphoria. 

Your heart stuttered in your chest, fingers reaching up and tweaking at your nipple in elated bliss. The man under you bit his lip at the sight, throwing his head back against the headboard.

"Shit, you feel so fucking good inside me. Stretch me out just like that, yes."

Ominis set to work once again, taking the brunette’s legs in his palms and stretching him so that his calves rested on the blond’s shoulders. Whimpers flooded his senses as he became completely consumed by lust and the sounds of his partner’s pleasure. Licking his pointer and middle finger, making sure to keep eye contact with the brunette struggling underneath the both of you, he stroked his fingertips at his puckered hole, drawing another loud, needy whimper from his partner. 

“I love your sounds, Sebastian. I’ve never heard anything more beautiful than the both of you singing in pleasure together.” 

The man continued to tease at the other’s entrance, pushing his fingers inside and curling them against the spot that made everything go white behind his eyes. Ominis could feel him pulse around his fingers, smell the sweet scent of his release breaching over the surface slowly. In one smooth movement, he sunk himself into his love— you all finally becoming one. 

Sebastian had never felt so full. Every sense in his body was in overdrive, sparking and sizzling behind his tightly shut eyes like the brightest of stars. Constellations flowed around his mind like the rings of Saturn, dancing through his memories and filling every inch of his body with infatuation. You both used him for your own pleasure, bouncing on him and filling him with heavenly bliss. The room filled with the sounds of your love: high pitch whines, low groans, skin slapping against skin, everything sinful that made his heart stutter in his chest and more. He could feel his very being reaching out and grasping towards the both of his partners, ready to worship them as the celestial beings that you were. Ominis leaned over you, digging his teeth into the opposite shoulder that Sebastian had bitten and marking you once more. Both of you were his, no one else's. He put all of his frustration into his thrusts, grabbing onto your hips as they stuttered against the brunette’s and slamming you down in time with his own movements, filling you with an otherworldly level of revelry.

Growling, his teeth clenched together as sounds of lust spilled from his throat and cascaded down onto your skin, Ominis spoke between each thrust. "You're ours, Sebastian. Take it for us, I know you can. You feel so perfect, squeezing me just like that."

The freckled boy slapped at your thigh, lacing his fingers together with the blond’s as they grabbed at your love handles with enough strength to leave bruises. Whines spilled from your throat like the fountain of youth, seeping into your partner’s ears and silencing every negative thought that hid behind their amorous expressions. Each thrust filled him with unimaginable levels of pleasure, his orgasm rocketing closer and closer to spilling over the precipice and into the blissful chasm below. 

Sebastian stuttered against your shoulder, ecstasy piercing his brain each time your bouncing syncs with Ominis’ thrusts. “F-fuck— please can I c-cum? Please let me cum, I’ve been so good, please.” 

You could feel your own release building, sending blinding hot heat to your stomach and blacking out your vision into an incandescent infinity. The blond’s thrusts behind you were getting sloppy, his rhythm stuttering around his hips and his fingernails digging painfully into the skin of your flesh. Pants flew out of your mouths, each of you struggling against the tightening pressure in your lower bodies as you fought for more air. You nodded at the brunette, your voice long gone in the throes of pleasure, before slapping one of your hands over the two combined at your waist, tying the three of you together. 

Ominis whined, all his dominance shedding from his body only to be replaced with flustered indulgence. “Yes, cum for us, Sebastian. You’ve been so good— taking us so well. I want to feel you tighten around my cock as you release into them. Shit.”

At his words, everything in his brain was wiped away in a torrential downpour of heavenly euphoria— light flooding behind his eyes as his release exploded through his body, the both of his partner’s following soon after and sending the trio into the effervescent, enigmatic paradise. 

Bodies crashed atop of bodies, cum mingling together and turning cold against your hot, sweaty forms. Sebastian gasped for air, his everything beginning to give in to exhaustion from the constant pleasure and pain he had experienced at the hands of his loves. Ominis rolled off first, gently kissing you on the back of your exposed neck and lifting off of the brunette’s hips. The freezing cold water of the washcloth the blond had grabbed was absolutely amazing against your skin— all traces of your exuberant sex being wiped away with a caring, gentle hand. Ominis tossed the washcloth away without a care for where it landed, exhaustion seeping into his own bones. With the last of his strength, he tucked his two companions under the blankets of their bed, cuddling up against the back of Sebastian and wrapping his arms around your waist where you rested against the brunette’s chest. You slotted together like pieces of a puzzle, love swirling around your souls and pressing gentle kisses to the magic that hummed in your veins. 

Sebastian laughed breathily, sleep descending on him— he felt boneless, like years of his life had been swept away in the tides of contentment. His eyelids were heavy as he pressed his lips against your temple and the other’s wrist. “Marry me.” 

A soft grin stretched across your face, sleep whispering sweet nothings in your ears just as it was to your boys. “What did you say?”

He snuggled closer to your warmth, reaching for the other boy’s arm and tugging him flush to his back. “I said marry me. There’s no one else I want to be with. No more doubts, no more insecurity, no more jealousy— this is it for me. This is my future; you both are my future.” 

You hummed against his chest, the soothing sound of his heartbeat dragging you deeper and deeper into your slumber. “Let me think about it.” 

You pretended to ponder for a moment, listening carefully to the brunette’s heart and gauging how true his words were. The solid, steady beat of his heart never changed— every inch of his body oozing trust and love. You kissed the skin just above where the organ rested and prepared to speak, your smile dazzling like the brightest constellations before craning your neck slightly over Sebastian’s shoulder, looking at the snoozing blond and squeezing the hand around your waist. “What do you say, Ominis? Should we marry this stubborn mule of a man?” 

Ominis huffed, his own sleepy smile spreading across his cheeks as he squeezed the both of you closer to his chest. “As long as no one takes my last name, I think I’d be okay with that arrangement.” 

You giggled, light and airy like wind chimes on a summer day, running your fingers first through the hair of the blond just at the edge of your reach and then the brunette pressed close to you. “I suppose I’m okay with that, too.” 

You three would talk more about it in the morning, hash out all the details and ponder how one would even have a triumvirate wedding. But, until then, the blissful feeling of rest sweeped over the room, gently tucking each of the former Hogwarts students into the comforting arms of those that they love most in the world and filling their dreams with images of the future. 

For now, all was well. 

***

like what you read? here's more!

#ominis gaunt x sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x ominis gaunt x you #sebastian sallow x ominis gaunt x mc #smut #hl smut #hogwarts legacy #hl #sebastian sallow smut #ominis gaunt smut #hogwarts legacy mc #sebastian sallow x reader #tina speaks #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x you #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt x mc #sebastian sallow x ominis gaunt #ao3 #ao3 fic #ao3 writer #ao3 smut #masterlist

[sukibenders]

As we are in Spooky Season, I have an urge to write more pjo x reader fics, especially with a slight "horror" aspect. Only problem is deciding on which prompt, which is where you guys come in if interested:

#percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x black!reader #percy jackson x poc!reader #annabeth chase #annabeth chase x reader #percabeth #percabeth x reader #all (or most) options will be written for bc they interest me #but the one with the most votes will be up first!

[plethora-of-imagines]

Sandman Masterlist

Full Fics:

Anons/Headcannons:

[Endearments they call you] - 2/11/2023

[Dream with an S/O who doesn't want kids]- 3/5/2023

[Dream with Hope!Reader]- 3/26/2023

[Dream with an S/O that wants kids]- 4/2/2023

[Dream and Immortal!Reader]-5/8/2023

[Dream and Kisses]- 5/8/2023

[Dream with Introvert!Reader]- 5/9/2023

[Dream with Hecate Daughter!Reader]- 5/21/2023

[Dream with Pregnant with Triplets! Reader]- 6/24/2023

[Dream with Cursed!Reader]- 7/4/2023

#dream of the endless x reader #dream x reader #morpheus x reader #corinthian x reader #the corinthian x reader #desire of the endless x reader

[peachesofteal]

Witchling / Chapter 2 

Morpheus/reader AO3 2k words - Chapter 1 is here. Warnings: Minors DNI. mentions of blood, skeletal limbs. Notes: 1. This fic has an outline now and will most likely be multiple chapters. 2. In this fic, I'm going with 'Hob believes Dream granted him immortality because Dream was the one who approached him in 1389, and he never corrected Hob's assumption.'

“But why?” 

“If, Hecate forbid, the book of shadows was ever to fall into the wrong hands, it would be catastrophic.” Your grandmother explains patiently. 

“As you will eventually be the grimoire’s next keeper, it’s protection will fall to you, just as it has to those that have come before you.” Your mother sits in the chair across from you, rubbing her thumb along the tops of your knuckles as she explains. 

“Will it hurt?” 

“Casting the blood bond will not.” Her assurances sit like lead in your stomach. You’ve heard the stories about the witches that have failed in their task. What became of them, how they suffered. The glint of a knife in your mother’s hand distracts you. You whimper. “Hush now.” She urges you to stand, holding your palm over the bowl that has been prepared. She draws the knife across your flesh, and you both watch as the droplets of blood sizzle and smoke in the bottom. Your heart starts to race, and your grandmother starts to murmur into the air. 

The last thing you see is the sympathy in your mother’s eyes before the world goes black. 

Someone is banging on your front door. You burrow yourself under the covers in hopes they will go away, but when you hear the professor’s voice, you know it’s not likely. 

“I know you’re in there, poppet.” A pause, more banging. “You’ve missed your last four shifts and have not answered a single call or text message.” More banging. You cringe. Your phone is on do not disturb, silenced after the last three texts from him, all beginning with “Hello, this is Hob Gadling. I am writing this to reach…” You know it’s not right that you’ve disappeared on him, but what are you supposed to do? Hey, sorry professor. Your weird friend tricked me, stole my family’s book of shadows, and then disappeared without a trace. Oh, why do I look like skeletor? Funny you should ask. You see, the book is bound to me through a spell, and it’s never supposed to leave my possession, or I am doomed to suffer the actual flames of hell on my skin until it’s found. Or I die. Yeah, that will go over really well. 

More banging. “I am going to call the police if you don’t answer the door.” Shit. You root around in your laundry for the largest hoodie you can find, gingerly pulling the sleeves over your hands so only the tips of your fingers are showing. Maybe he won’t notice. 

You fling open the door and he gapes at you, as if he wasn’t expecting you to actually answer. 

“About time! What’s happened to you? Where have you been?” you sigh, pushing the door open fully and stepping to the side. 

“You better come in.” 

 

 

Hob looks utterly shocked. He sits half perched on your couch, his large hand holding a lukewarm cup of tea, the other resting on his knee. 

“I don’t know what to say.” He finally speaks, and the sorrow in his voice pulls at your heart. “I am, so sorry. I didn’t think him capable of such… cruelty.” You shake your head. 

“It’s not your fault, professor.” 

“Can I see?” your eyebrows raise. “Please.” You remove your sweatshirt slowly, shifting in your t shirt once you’re free of the long sleeves. You hold your arms out to him and look away. You can’t look at them. The flesh on most of your fingers has gone, the bone of your left wrist is exposed entirely. Your skin is intact in patches up to your elbows, and the spell keeps it all in stasis. No blood, no pus, no rotting flesh. Just your body ever so slowly magically burning away. It’s the evidence of your failure, your inability to do your one job, and you can practically hear your mother and grandmother cursing you from beyond the grave. You sigh, and glance back at him. You weren’t sure if it was possible for Hob to look pale, but he did, he looked terrible. And you felt even worse. 

“He did this to you?” you shake your head. 

“Not directly. The bond that connects the book to me did. When he stole it, he enacted the spell.”

“And this spell… it does this to you?” 

“It’s supposed to serve as a punishment, and a motivator, to always keep the grimoire in my possession. The longer I’m separated from it, the more this will spread. And considering the initial severity of the spell, I am guessing the book is no longer… here.” You had no idea where the book of shadows was. You had already tried to scry for it and came up empty. Wherever it was, it wasn’t in this realm. You shuddered as you considered the possibilities. It could be in Hell, it could be in Faerie, it could anywhere. You are so fucked. “Hob, Morpheus said he was just like you. Except he disappeared into thin air, which isn’t something I thought you could do?” Hob grimaces. 

“He’s not like me. He’s something else. I’m not entirely sure, but I believe he’s a god of some kind.” You choke on your tea. 

“A what?” 

“I don’t know. He shares very limited details about himself with me. It’s only been recently that he’s been more… engaged in our friendship.” A god. The professor thinks he’s a whole ass god. “He’s the one who made me like this.” Hob finishes and the color drains from your face. Who had the power to grant immortality? Suddenly, there’s a bead of stress sweat collecting on the small of your back. 

“Do you know how to contact him?” 

“I don’t. We used to only meet every hundred years. He’s been coming around more often recently though.” Hob looks pensive and fight the urge to burst out into laughter at your predicament. So, you’re looking for a god, who can grant immortality, who apparently can teleport in and out of realms, and can’t be contacted. Yeah, you’re fucked.  “I’m sorry poppet. I can’t believe this has happened. That he would do this, it’s… very upsetting.” You see the deep lines of disappointment in the professor’s expression. He’s truly upset, and your heart cries for him. 

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.” You rush to tell him. You feel the urge to reach out and squeeze his hand for comfort before you’re sharply reminded that comfort is something your hands can no longer give. You pull your sweatshirt back on as he stands, and he gives you a hug goodbye. 

“If I can help you anyway, tell me, and I will do so.” His voice is so serious, so steadfast, and you cling to his support. Hob is pretty much your only friend in this world, and it’s nice to know that he’s not completely horrified by the current state of your being. You sniffle, and nod. 

“Of course, I will.” 

 

You spend the rest of the day alternating between scrying and scrambling to come up with a plan. You tear through everything in the study, looking for summoning spells, tracing spells, anything you can get your hands on that could show you where the grimoire is. You work until the late hours of the night, until you finally fall asleep in the chair at the desk. 

 

You’ve never dreamed of a library before. It’s beautiful, with massive ornately carved shelves that tower over you. 

You round a corner to find a woman sitting at a table. She’s leaning over a large book, her finger following a line of text along the pages. 

It’s not just a book. It’s your grimoire. 

You gasp, and she looks around, startled until her eyes find you. Her smile is soft, even friendly as she stands. 

“Hello, dreamer.” Your mouth goes dry. Dreamer? She looks down at your hands, the mess of your scarred, skeletal limbs, and her smile falters, just slightly. Shame, and disgust, curdles in your stomach. 

“That’s… that’s mine. That’s- how did you get that?” Her smile fades, confusion and apprehension pinching her eyebrows into the middle of her forehead. She opens her mouth to say something, but stops, her gaze flicking towards the end of the shelves. Your nose tingles and you turn to look at whatever it is that stole her attention. 

It’s him. He’s standing at the end of row. And he looks, different somehow. Lethal, and yet still beautiful. Your breath starts coming in sharp pants, fear slithering across your skin. It’s just a dream. The power in the room pulses, and as blink, he’s standing right in front of you. You shrink backwards instinctively, stunned for a moment, and you reach inside yourself to push your own magic out towards him. Before you can even cast it, a vice clamps down on you, strangling your power, restraining it. You look up at him in a daze, expecting to find his callous gaze on yours. 

He’s not looking at your face, or your eyes. He’s staring at your forearms, your hands. Your mottled, melted flesh that is missing in chunks, exposing the gleam of bone underneath. It’s gruesome, the aftermath of the spell. His lips are pressed into a firm line, and you can just barely see a muscle in his jaw ticking. His eyes flick up towards yours, and you’re shocked to see an array of emotions behind them. Confusion. Surprise. Rage. 

“Who did this to you?” 

“You did.” He jerks his head backwards as if you’ve struck him. The urge to scream at him pulls at you, and you desperately want to unleash it, but the words die on your tongue as a strange sensation snaps across your body. 

 

You wake in your bed. The sun peeks through your curtains at you, and your mind reels. It was a dream; it was just a dream. 

 

 

The Goblin grins at you and clucks their tongue in pseudo affection. 

“Poor dove. Have you lost something?” They’re looking at your hands. “What a nasty spell. I never understood why you silly witches inflict something so torturous upon yourselves.” You stifle a sarcastic remark. 

“I have a question that needs an answer, and I have means to pay.” You say plainly and they laugh in response. 

“State you query then.” 

“I am looking for a god.” 

“That is not a query.” The Goblin reminds you. You roll your eyes. 

“A god has stolen something from me. I need it returned. Can you tell me who he is?” They lick their lips. 

“The blood in your hands is no good now, it will need to come from your neck.” You feel the press of their pointed fingernail against your skin, and then a pop. They lift their finger to their mouth, savoring the taste of your memory, of your burning question. Gross. 

The Goblin’s face lights with glee. 

“Oh, little lamb, it is not a god you seek. It is Dream of the Endless.” Dream. Your heart sinks as you remember your dream from last night. Guess it wasn’t just a dream, after all. 

It takes some coaxing, but you finally get the Goblin to tell you who the Endless are. They tell you of the siblings, their purposes, and their realms, which apparently are incredibly difficult to travel to as an unwanted guest. They also tell you more about Morpheus, or Dream, the actual Nightmare King himself. The more the Goblin prattles on, the more you realize how daunting of a task this will be. You try not to let the feelings of dread overwhelm you. 

“My payment.” The Goblin rasps, and you retrieve the scissors from your bag. You snip off a long lock of hair, wrapping it around your fingers before depositing it into their waiting palm. Their eyes fill with delight, and they make a pleased rumbling sound in their chest. 

“I knew your mother’s name, you know.” Your blood turns to ice. “Might I know yours as well, little spellcaster?” 

“Fuck off.” You pull your hands into your sleeves and make your way out of the alley at a run. 

 

 

You throw your bag on your couch, kicking your shoes off. Something below your elbow burns, and you grimace. You’re about to start perusing your selection of frozen dinner meals when a voice, that voice, echoes through your house. 

“Witchling.”  

You scream. 

#dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless #the sandman fanfic #peaches writes

[moondrop-writes]

Hello! I liked your Jason x Hecate’s daughter fic. Can I request of one with Percy instead? They grew up together and end up getting together after a life or death situation where one of them blurts it out in the heat of it?

hello! and thank you for the compliment. of course, you can request one! i love moments where two characters admit their love for one another in a near-death situation and they're all blushy and embarrassed afterwards because they thought they were going to die. sorry that this is really angst LMAO i had zero clue how to end it.

The nauseating scent of blood and flesh filled your senses, but you fought through it as you hacked at a gorgon. You dodged it's spitting tongues, and rolled away, cradling your hand to your chest and your sword in your other hand.

Your flesh bubbled and burned, your hand taking a greenish tint from the poison. You hissed out a curse and looked across the battlefield.

You had thought you were done with monsters after the war with the giants, but you'd been wrong. As long as mortals lived, monsters would still thrive. It was supposed to be an easy quest, until you found Percy on the way to your destination, and everything went wrong after that.

Mortals gathered around, gasping and gawking and at whatever scene the mist was playing for them. Your hair stuck to your face with sweat, the oppressive summer heat beating down on you.

Finding Percy was easy, his wild teal eyes zipping across the field. He'd successfully defeated a hellhound that he had previously had trouble with. Now, his eyes fell on your, your sizzling hand, and the gorgon looming over you. You swung your sword wildly, but each movement sent fire through your veins.

You cried out when it's hot grip wrapped around your wrist, searing a burn mark into your flesh. You kicked at the gorgon to no avail, and your sword clattered to the ground just out of your reach.

"Y/N!" Percy yelled, running over to you. He'd be too late, you knew it. There was no way in hell, even with his level of agility, that he'd make it to you in time.

The gorgon spit again, it's poisonous spit dripping down your cheek. You cried out again, as the liquid slipped down your cheek onto your neck. It burned, pulling up your skin to reveal pink marred flesh.

Two long fangs brushed your neck, and your hands uselessly clawed at the gorgon's face, pushing it away barely. It didn't matter much though, because one fang snagged the skin of your shoulder and sunk in deep.

You screamed, louder than you ever had before, as sharp tooth pulled through muscle and bone. The gorgon pulled back, satisfied, and pulled your limp aching body to it's chest.

You caught sight of Percy, still running through a bit sluggish. His face was twisted with horror, and you called out his name weakly.

The next few moments happened in a blur, as your brain started to slow with the poison injected into your shoulder. You registered a new set of arms wrapping around you, cold and sweaty. You saw Riptide arc over your body, and a spray of golden monster dust.

An inhumane shriek, and then a jumble of movement. Percy hid the two of you somewhere, and held you close. His trembling hands pushed your hair from your face, smearing dirt and grime.

"Please," he whispered, "hold on. I-I don't have any ambrosia...fuck!"

Your hazy eyes found focus on your face, and you coughed out the blood in your throat. Your entire body burned with surging poison. "Perce," you struggled to get the words out, choking on your own spit, "I...lov--"

"No, save your breath," he said, and fumbled in his pockets, "I have a drachma somewhere."

He did have one, tucked in the bottom of his back pocket. He splashed up a nearby rain puddle and hurriedly called, "Oh, Iris, accept my offering...please show me Chiron...please," his voice broke towards the end of the sentence, and he cradled you a bit closer.

As the iris message began to form your conscious started to slip from you. "Percy," you struggled, drawing his attention, "I love you,"

He sobbed, "no, please, Y/N. You can make it, I promise, they'll get here."

but your hand slipped from his, and your eyes fell shut.

Percy screamed.

#pjo x reader #pjo writing #percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #moondrop writes #heroes of olympus #hoo x reader #pjo hoo toa #x reader

[greekmocha]

I was bored so decided to write some minor stuff.

Favorite couples of Greek Mythology! (Canon and Non-Canon)

I’ll be honest some of my reasons or explanations will sound like crack. Some I actually want to make a fanfic of! (Even though I’m still in the process of writing a Non-King one, but writers block there). Keep in mind I am tired so all these are randomly explained without full reason why I like them.

Canon Mythology:

Hera / Zeus: Alright this one is probably the one that gets most trashed on, but it’s honestly great! Yes they have issues, but they do love each other. It’s complicated, but they’re gods- I can’t even explain why it’s great as thousands of thoughts run through my head about them, but yeah.

Ariadne / Dionysus: This one I found rather neat! Theseus was a prick and left her on an island, then Dionysus and his party bus came along and picked her up, then later on turned to husband and wife! I mean they’ve never even fought in any myths that I’m aware of, and just seem so chill.

Aphrodite / Ares: Ngl, this is my all time favorite one. Ares literally fought on her side in the Trojan war, going against his mother! And he’s like a devoted son, and he picked Aphrodite- love. And yes they both have their own lovers, but they just have a thing that feels like it’d be constant.

bonus ones I won’t go much into, enjoy but don’t think of too much:

- Achilles / Patroclus: Had to be obvious, but I haven’t read the Iliad in a few years so can’t explain much.

- Apollo / Hyacinthus: Love the tragedy of it all, like it seemed genuinely sweet, then the discuss came along.

Non-Canon Favorite couples of Greek Mythology!

Hades / Prometheus: Some who actually read my blog could tell this is my all time favorite pairing. Yes there’s like no myths of them together- but the concept! I personally imagine they met during the Titanomachy, and had a quiet companionship. Later on when humanity came along, Hades helped a tiny bit- gave the basic idea for a soul while Prometheus did the rest, and led to Hades making the Underworld comfortable for the deceased, since it was his beloved friends creation. And the possible angst?? Prometheus getting his wife or when he gets chained to the mountain, and Hades mourning in silence.

Demeter / Hecate: They seem neat, what can I say? Hecate helped Demeter search for her daughter, even though she’s typically seen as a resident of the underworld- she helped! I like to just imagine women tired of others bs, and if I was confident in writing I’d likely have made 100 fics revolved around them.

Aphrodite / Persephone: The two considered the most beautiful! When I read the whole myth focusing on Psyche, I immediately thought rivals to lovers for this pairing. The whole box of beauty, sending a death curse back. Just two incredible goddesses. I’d like to imagine the two of them were friends when Persephone was younger! Though of course in my AU (I’m gonna call it Mykos verse or smth) since Persephone and Aphrodite aren’t married, the two of them would have likely hung out a lot.

Additional ones I like but don’t think of often:

- Apollo and Ares: Saw a few posts of them, and thought they were cute!

- Hera/Zeus’s former lovers: Now that one was interesting, can’t remember the blog but the whole thing and incorrect quotes was rather sweet.

- Poseidon/Hades: This is Greek mythology, definitely not the worst pairing. I read a fic of it once, and thought it was kinda nice. Besides the whole idea started when I heard of the Hadalpelagic zone in the ocean, and thought it could be a fun meeting spot between the two.

And that’s the end!

#my personal mythology ships #greek mythology #greek gods #Greek god ships #Hera x Zeus #Dionysus x Ariadne #Aphrodite x Ares #hades x prometheus #Demeter x Hecate #aphrodite x persephone #Hera #Zeus #Dionysus #Ariadne #Aphrodite #Ares #Hades #Prometheus #Demeter #Hecate #Persephone #Mykos AU #still working on the name

[deadal3x]

"Stories of The Forgotten Demigods" MASTERPOST

Series and fics found on Ao3. Series link is here

MINOR SPOILERS BELOW CUT.

FIC LINKS:

"Sealed his Fate (Change the Prophecy)" A Fic following Damien Monroe and Grayson Bailey throughout the years leading to the Battle of Manhattan. (Details their life through the Five PJO books)

"With You I Serve (With You I Fall Down)" A Fic following character Camille Jones as she navigates the Foster System, life in Kronos's army, and life as an unclaimed demigod.

"Every Scrap of You (Would Be Taken From Me)" A Fic following twin characters Wyman and Warren O'Connoly as they find their place in the world as demigods, following a devastating loss. The twins must persevere as they help in the efforts against Kronos's army.

"Rose Tattoo (You'll Always Be There with Me)" A fic following Russian demigod Canobie Nikolaevich Volkov as he struggles to escape captivity from the Russian army, navigates life post escape, and how his role in the war against the Romans play out.

Giants Fall (Who Will Save Us?) [RELEASE DATE TBD] Follow Damien Monroe as he fights to stop Gaea from awakening; and how he learns to separate himself from his past, and truly begin his healing process. (details Damien's story through Heroes of Olympus to Trials of Apollo, and COTG/WOTTG)

"Always an Angel (Never A God)" A collection of stories for many demigods led astray by Luke Castellan, that detail the true experience of Life aboard the Princess Andromeda.

"You're on Your Own Kid (You always have Been)" You've heard the stories of their children. The endless pain, the wars, and more the demigods fought in. Now, it's time to hear how they came to be. How their mortal parents met the gods. (A deep dive into My OCs Mortal Parents' lives before they became the parent of a Demigod Hero.)

PLAYLIST LINKS: (songs are still being added to them!)

Overall Playlist for the Series, "Stories of The Forgotten Demigods"

A Master post for the Cabin playlists is here

"I don't like to celebrate my Birthday"; A playlist based on Damien's "Cursed" Birthday; aka December First.

Strawberry Wine; A playlist for Grayson Bailey and his love Interest, Chris Rodriguez.

Timeless Pomegranate; A playlist for Luke Castellan, and Damien Monroe.

Strawberry Ghosts; A brotherly playlist for Damien Monroe and Grayson Bailey

Undead Soldiers and their general; a playlist defining Damien and Clarisse's friendship

Valmongrace; a playlist for the poly couple of Jason Grace, Leo Valdez and Damien Monroe

Wysdom and War; a playlist for the twin children of Athena.

Damien Monroe, The Son of Hades.

Grayson Bailey, The Son of Dionysus

Camille Jones, an unclaimed Demigod

Wyman O'Connoly, The Daughter of Athena

Warren O'Connoly, The Son of Athena

Lake Wilson, A Child of Apollo

Canobie Nikolaevich Volkov; the son of Nemesis

Silas McCormick; A child of Tyche

Simon McCarthy, The Son of Enyo

Aster Williams, The son of Opora

Julie Thatcher, The Daughter of Apate

Winnie McKay, The Daughter of Hecate

Sirona Lewis, The Daughter of Asclepius

#Stories of The Forgotten Demigods #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson oc #hereos of olympus #the seven pjo #my pjo ocs #masterlist ! #Deadalex's stuff #writing #pjo ocs #playlists #my percy jackson ocs

[iobsessoverfictionalmen]

It's a highway to hell but, oh the things we do for love (4)

This fic is a Greek mythology au. This fic includes: betrayal, attempted human sacrifice, violence, choking, character death, cursing, forced marriage, mentions of nightmares, references to Greek mythology, enemies to lovers, and manipulation.

Tagging: @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky, @greep215

Chapter 4

“Now that you know my name, will you order Hecate to escort me to Hades?”

“No.”  You refused, “A suit of armour will guide you to the king.  Hecate will stay here with me.”

Truthfully, you had no idea how you would even summon a suit of armour since Hades had done it last time and he hadn’t exactly provided instructions on how to imitate the process.  To your complete and utter astonishment, you heard heavy metal footsteps coming towards you.

Within a matter of seconds, a suit of armour stood in the entrance way.  From its posture, it was clear that it was waiting for orders from you.  The words leapt unbidden from your mouth, “Escort Minthe directly to Hades.  If he is unavailable for whatever reason, remain with her at the doors of the throne room.”

The suit of armour raised a hand to pound at its breast plate and it bobbed its head once before facing Minthe with a stony countenance.  She huffed when she realised that you were serious about not letting Abigail go with her and that the suit of armour would escort her instead.

She twirled around and taking that as its cue to leave, the suit of armour made its way down the hall.  Feeling petty, you called out to her, “I’d suggest that you do your best to keep up with the suit of armour.  It will not stop to wait for you.”

Only after you had finished speaking did you realise that you had repeated Hades’ words from your first night in the Underworld.  Minthe left the prophecy room with quick strides.

“If she maintains her current pace, she should catch up to the suit of armour very soon.  She can’t be too far behind it because I can still hear its footsteps.”

Abigail waited a long time to ensure that Minthe had left.  Once she was absolutely certain that Minthe wouldn’t double back, she let go of your hand which was starting to become numb from her tight grip.  Blood rushed back into the limb yet you chose to ignore that and focus on the goddess whose mood had undergone a complete one hundred and eighty degree turn from her mood earlier this morning.

“Why did she have to come back?” The goddess wailed.  “No one likes her!  She doesn’t belong here!”

You gathered the distraught immortal into your embrace and because of the fact that you were preoccupied with the goddess in your arms and trying to figure out the right words to say to her, you didn’t notice the shadows lengthening until two men popped out of them and appeared next to you.  You let out a yelp and Abigail chuckled wetly.

“Minthe’s back,” the taller of the two bemoaned.

“It’s a little late to tell us now.  She was just in the room with us.” Abigail retorted with a frown as she wriggled out of your arms to face the newest arrivals.

The shorter of the two men was the first to spot you, “Hi.  We haven’t been introduced yet.  I’m Charon but you can call me Dave and this,” he jerked his thumb at the taller male, “is….”

“You can call me Thanatos.”  His voice was clipped as he interrupted Dave and studied you.

“I’m (Name).”  You introduced yourself.

“We know,” Thanatos replied.  “Charon filled me in on the two witches he ferried over.”

You swallowed at the mention of Vi and her partner, “Oh.”

“Indeed,” Thanatos replied curtly, lifting an eyebrow.

“How are we going to get her out of here?”  Abigail demanded.

“We could make her cookies with salt instead of sugar?” Dave suggested.

Thanatos started shaking his head even before Dave was midway through his sentence, “No way.  I’m not spending any time or effort on that woman if I don’t have to.”

“Lemon juice in her water with salt and vinegar?” Abigail offered, “It’s easy and doesn’t require a lot of time or effort.”

“Now you’re talking,” Thanatos praised, grinning approvingly at Abigail.  “What about egg yolks in her drink?”

You wrinkled your nose and made a mental note to never make these immortals angry.  You didn’t want them coming up with creative ideas like these ones about how to mess with your food.  Unfortunately a thought occurred to you and you let out a sigh as the need to speak up rose within you.

“While those are good prank ideas, you’re all forgetting one thing.”

“What’s that?”  Thanatos snapped.  You tried not to focus on the mocking edge of his voice.

“She’s in Hades’ realm and as such the god is bound by the laws of hospitality.  Any pranks or perceived insults, however harmless they may be,” you hastened to add when you caught sight of the identical frowns on Dave, Abigail, and Thanatos’ faces, “would be insulting him as well and I think we can all agree that none of us want to see Hades angry.”

Abigail, Dave, and Thanatos all had the same looks of disappointment on their faces.  “What do we do then?” Thanatos demanded aggressively.  “We can’t let her stay here!”

“Whatever Minthe did last time must’ve been really bad.  I wish I knew what it was so I could make sure not to do anything remotely close to it.”

“Avoid her at all costs.”  You advised.  “Stick together and I will do my best to divert her attention.  You shouldn’t,” your voice dropped and became softer, “interact with her since you clearly don’t want to, and based on the discussion you three just had, I think it’s fair to say that if you are forced to be around her, you would be willing to risk Hades’ wrath to get Minthe out of the Underworld permanently.”

“You’re not wrong,” Thanatos admitted.  He seemed a little less sullen and you hoped that meant he was warming up to you.

#mywriting #my fics #halloween 2023 #it's a highway to hell but oh the things we do for love #greek mythology au #the sorcerer's apprentice au #maxim horvath #hades!maxim horvath #maxim horvath x reader #maxim horvath/reader #hecate!abagail williams #thanatos!drake stone #charon!dave stutler

[jeongyunhoed]

As seen on my FF.net

Following the events of fifth year, a new adventure awaits for Norah Lee. Boys, exams, school events, common room parties, and old foes outside of Hogwarts. Even battling pensieve guardians was easier than this.

Main Pair: OC/? Genre: Adventure/Angst/Fluff (it's a little of everything, tbh)

KEEP IN MIND: Characters are aged up (even if the story's got them in sixth year) to make it more appropriate. Time period is leaning towards the modern day so in case you might find anachronisms in the dialogue or references, this is why. This may also be quite a lengthy fic too.

BE WARNED: Social anxiety, mentions of blood and injury, grief, drinking, kissing but nothing more than that, death (this is Hogwarts Legacy, after all)

P.P.S: Another terrible attempt at poetry ahead, but the last note, the poem in that one is from Perry Poetry. Emotional rollercoaster 2.0. Any guesses as to who "Nick" is? HEHEHEHE

Masterlist

Chapter 8

"For today's lesson, we're tackling a few things," Professor Hecat told the class the next day. "Cursed barrier spells, the imperturbable jinx, and the sea urchin jinx," She explained, the latter inciting chuckles from the students. "But before we get onto that, I'd like to commend you all for finishing what I will definitely describe as a long and time-consuming essay on banshees, flesh-eating slugs, and kappas."

Professor Hecat moved the tables to the side once again. "We've got quite a few hours on us today, so a review is also in order. Miss Lee, please step forward," She looked at Norah.

Norah was met with nudges from Natty and Leander, and knowing looks from Sebastian and Ominis as she went to the middle of the room. Professor Hecat conjured the training dummy in front of her, pushing the boggart closet close by. "Bloody hell, Hecat's going to unleash a boggart on Norah," Leander muttered.

"I wonder what form it's going to take in front of her," The Gryffindor Cressida Blume, whispered.

Norah felt her heart pound upon seeing the possibility of the boggart closet. She wondered what was going to come out from there. "Yes, Professor?" She said.

"Since you have undoubtedly some, or may I say, the most experience among your peers in this room, think of the training dummy as an inferi. Begin," Professor Hecat gestured. "Non-verbally, of course."

Norah nodded, glancing at Sebastian and Ominis, who were giving her knowing nods. One, incendio, two, confringo, three, incendio, four, confringo, with the fifth being diffindo. The rest of them clapped when she stepped back, and Professor Hecat looked proud. "10 house points if you can all identify which spells Miss Lee used."

"Show-off," Sebastian teased, making her laugh.

Several of them raised their hands. Professor Hecat ended up calling on Leander, who answered all three spells correctly. "10 points to Gryffindor, thank you Mr. Prewett," Professor Hecat nodded.

Norah gave him a thumbs up. "Merlin, how did you get around to learning confringo?" The tall Gryffindor whispered. She tilted her head toward Sebastian, who grinned. "Ah, figures," He chuckled, stepping aside.

"Well done, next up, the boggart, if you remember what to do when facing a boggart, do so non-verbally," Professor Hecat instructed, even when Norah was asked to return to the middle.

She felt an increasing feeling of anxiety, when the closet was pushed forward, the training dummy vanishing with a quick evanesco. The closet burst open, and Norah could feel her heart pounding.

The figure of Professor Fig emerged, and the room had gone quiet. Sebastian's expression fell, as did Natty's, watching Norah face the boggart in the form of their late professor.

"R-" Norah mumbled, trying her hardest to shake off the sudden fear and sadness that came from seeing Fig's dark expression, trying to walk up to her. She swallowed hard, and closed her eyes, trying to concentrate. Riddikulus. Riddikulus. Riddikulus!

The boggart form of Fig turned into a puffskein that rolled around the closet. Norah fell to her knees, looking quite shaken, tears rolling down her cheeks. Sebastian quickly helped her up, and it was then she was made aware that everyone in the room was staring at her, all of whom looked concerned, some sad. Professor Hecat looked just as concerned. "I guess we'll have to move along, but well done, Miss Lee. Mr. Sallow, will you mind accompanying her outside for some fresh air?"

Sebastian nodded, leading her outside the classroom while Professor Hecat continued with the review. "Are you alright?" He said, trying to wipe her tears with his sleeve. "You did well in there, with that boggart."

The floodgates opened, and Norah burst into tears, hiding her face in his shoulder as she sobbed. Sebastian held her, rubbing her back in an effort to calm her down. He could feel how much pain she held inside, masked behind a calm and confident facade. He knew what happened will spread throughout the school, and he wasn't sure if Norah wanted to know. Not that she cared, but this was one of those rare moments when he saw the kind of person she really was.

If anything, it just made him fall harder for her.

"I'm sorry," Norah slowly pulled away, wiping her eyes and sniffling. Sebastian continued to wipe her eyes. "Oh this is great, this is embarrassing," She tried to laugh it off, her eyes still red. "I'm sorry."

Sebastian shook his head. "It's alright. You were just scared, it was a boggart, it would've scared anyone," He assured her, wiping some more tears away with his thumb, his hand resting on her cheek, as if wanting her to lean into it.

Norah sniffled and shook her head. "It's just...what would they think of me now? Cowering at the sight of Fig?" She whispered, not wanting to go on about how she felt when she knew the freckled brunette was aware.

"They didn't know Fig the way you did. What was it about Fig that terrified you?" He said softly.

"Just-" Norah looked down, still too embarrassed. "I just remember those last moments I had with him. He wasn't sure about my decision to open the repository down there, and me taking the power to build on what Isidora worked on, knowing what I know. But Ranrok arrived, with Miriam's wand, he revealed he killed her, and when Fig got angry at him, the stone pillars fell, even more when Ranrok forced it open anyway," She said.

Sebastian wasn't sure what else he could say, and instead accompanied her to the restroom where she quickly washed her face. When she stepped out of the bathroom, that was when Sebastian found the words to what he wanted to ask. "Do you blame yourself for him dying? It seemed like Ranrok is the one who sent that stone down and killed him, not you."

"It certainly feels like it was my fault," Norah swallowed hard. "That's why I plan to do what I'm going to do to make up for it. Even if it's too late."

It made Sebastian think of his own situation, of his own uncle Solomon. Even if Solomon harbored a lot of resentment towards him because of Anne getting cursed and their parents' death, it didn't justify the use of avada kedavra. Even when the truth was revealed, Sebastian had now understood that it wasn't as simple as harboring hatred for goblins. He knew he fully deserved to be locked up, yet they didn't turn him in.

He knew he had the rest of his life to make up for what he did. Norah's words seemed to give him some assurance that he could only make things right even if it's too late.

They returned to the classroom just in time for Professor Hecat to introduce the new spells they were set to learn. When she stood beside Ominis, no longer wanting to draw further attention, the blonde reached out to her, gently patting her wrist. "Are you alright?" He whispered.

Norah hummed. "I will be, I'm sorry. That was embarrassing wasn't it?"

"Of course it wasn't," He said. Even if he couldn't see what happened, he felt how shaken she had become. All the while hoping that maybe he should've been the one who also stepped up to help her get some air. His hand moved down from patting her wrist to gently tugging on her fingers, as if to further assure her that everything was going to be okay. And it was, as Ominis firmly decided from then on, that he would try and protect her no matter what.

~

To Norah Lee,

I see without seeing, To me, darkness is as clear as daylight. Answer this riddle to get to me, For I plan to wipe your tears, hopefully I hope this note puts a smile on your face, And to remind you that everything will be okay. Whisper the answer to a close friend, You'll know who I am by the week's end.

You will know if you are right, Wait for my note tomorrow night.

Your Nick

Norah read the note over and over again during lunch. The gears in her mind were already turning, full of suspicions as to who "Nick" was. She was a step closer to figuring out who it was from this note. There was that feeling of anticipation, that maybe, perhaps, "Nick" was the very person she was starting to have feelings for. Then again, it could've been any sixth-year boy at this point. It was possible that any of her friends told "Nick" things about her, what she liked, what she didn't like.

Since the moment she started feeling like she was beginning to care more for this person, Norah also regretted trying to keep things as they are. When all she wanted was to maybe, spend more time with him. Maybe talk to him more, break the ice a little more until there was nothing left.

But, at least what Norah thought, he might feel like they were out of each other's leagues. If things worked out, people might be in for a surprise, that much she knew. She knew that a potential relationship with him would lead to some backlash, but she was prepared either way. Norah sighed and put the note down. It was too early to think like things were already working out between them.

She looked around, hearing faint whispers of possibly what happened to her during Defense Against the Dark Arts. The embarrassment crept in once again, and she had the urge to just head down to the nearest creature lair and take out a few. But she knew she couldn't. That kind of activity no longer happened as much.

Norah got up, clutching the note as she left the Great Hall, wanting to spend the rest of the lunch period in the Room of Requirement, where she could get back to studying. Deek could always summon food from the kitchens if she asked. As she was about to head up the main staircase, she was stopped by an owl that dropped a letter in front of her.

It was from "Nick" again, she was certain, from how the owl went straight to her. There was a sense of urgency about the owl, and she quickly gave it a treat before it flew off. "Another letter from "Nick" ?"

Natty was coming down the stairs with Nellie Oggspire when they saw her. "Yeah," Norah nodded, looking at her name written on the envelope. "Hi Nellie" She said.

"Hey Norah!" Nellie waved. "I heard you're taking part in Summoner's Court again this year."

She eyed her friend, who tried to avert her gaze, then laughed. "Yes, unfortunately. I would gladly relinquish my title as Summoner's Court champion but Natty here doesn't want me going easy on the boy who could be her summoner."

Natty side-eyed her, while the two of them laughed. "The whole school's been on about who could be your summoner, Norah," Nellie pointed out. "I heard there are bets being placed, but if you ask me, they might be wrong."

"Bets? They're taking bets? Who do they think it is anyway?" Norah was curious. It was a way to narrow down her suspicions as to who it was.

Her question made the two Gryffindor girls grin. "Well, one of them is betting on Garreth, which isn't surprising since they always mention your escapade in Hogsmeade for him," Nellie explained, raising a brow. "They're also betting on Prewett, since the two of you studied together in the Astronomy wing too."

Norah chuckled. "That was only one time with Garreth, and I actually get a lot of homework done whenever I have the chance to study with Leander," She shrugged. "Did they bet on others?"

They nodded. "Well, look no further for the other two," Nellie said.

"No further? You mean-?" Norah stared at them.

"Yeah, Sebastian and Ominis." Natty said. "I heard the fifth years saying that the two of them seem to be the most likely ones, since you spend time with them the most."

Interesting, she thought. "Anyone else?" Norah asked.

"Well," Nellie and Natty exchanged looks. "Someone's apparently betting that it's Amit even," Nellie said.

Norah looked at them incredulously. "But how can he be the summoner when his own name was taken down?" She said.

"That's what I was wondering too," Natty chuckled. "But Amit seems unlikely. He doesn't flirt with you, he's just a really nice guy."

"Yeah," She agreed. "Well, at least that kind of narrowed it down, I guess. He did say I'll know who he is by the week's end," She held up the other note.

"Good for him. Quite brave of him to ask the Hogwarts hero, I must say," Nellie teased, and Norah shook her head. "Face it, Lee. All the boys would want you to be their date to the Yule Ball, even more so at the common room parties. Everyone will be anticipating who that will be."

"I don't know, after my embarrassing reaction during Defense Against the Dark Arts, I might have put off a lot of them," Norah looked around, catching the gaze of some fifth-years who immediately averted their stares and kept walking.

"That's not true, don't say that," Natty frowned, as did Nellie. "You reacted like everybody else probably would. That is nothing to be embarrassed about. It was a boggart after all."

Norah bid them goodbye, telling Natty that she'll go ahead to Hogsmeade after class to grab a butterbeer before their next astronomy table hunt. She was determined to shake off what happened to her in class. When she arrived at the entrance of the Room of Requirement and stepped inside once the door opened.

Deek had appeared at the same time, tidying up the entrances of the vivariums. He stood up when he saw Norah come in. "The thestral and unicorn offsprings have grown up now, Miss," He said.

"Do you think it might be time to release them?" Norah asked, slipping on dragonhide gloves to carefully harvest some of the mandrakes and chomping cabbages. "Do you think you can summon some food from the kitchens?"

Deek smiled and with a snap of his fingers, they heard a table of food emerged in the other room. "Anything else?" He asked.

When Norah took off the gloves, she shook her head. "Come and eat with me. You've been keeping an eye on everything whenever I'm not here, you need a break too."

"Oh, Deek has already eaten," The house elf replied with a smile. "But I can call your friends to come in and join you if you'd like?"

She shook her head, realizing there was no use trying to convince him otherwise. "How is his Lordship?"

"Doing very well," Deek said. "He's very happy being surrounded by company."

Norah looked up at the vivarium where the graphorn was housed. It made her think of the boys Natty and Nellie mentioned. Sebastian and Ominis were likely in the Undercroft or back in the common room. As for Garreth and Leander, she didn't know much about where they might be other than the Great Hall.

"I'll be right back. I might have to drag a certain Ravenclaw boy from his telescope to eat something," She said, almost sprinting out of the room and up the spiral staircase. Norah skidded to a halt when she saw Amit, busy peering through his telescope while taking notes for his star charts. "Thakkar!" She called out to him.

"Why the last name all of a sudden?" Amit was quick to retort, getting up from the floor. "Are you okay? I heard about what happened in Hecat's class."

She nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. I've got a spread in the room and I can't finish all of the food. Take a break from the stargazing during the day and have a meal," She suggested.

Amit nodded a little embarrassed with Norah's remark about stargazing during the day. "Alright, let's go. We'll be going for another astronomy table hunt, right? Further into the Forbidden Forest," He said, quickly putting his things together to follow her down to the room. "Do you mind if I brew some of the potions in the room?"

They returned to the room, where Deek seemed to be standing by and waiting for them. "Hello, Deek!" The Ravenclaw was quick to greet, before they went down the little staircase to where the spread was laid out. "House elves always tend to outdo themselves."

They sat down and immediately helped themselves to the nearest servings of food on the table. Norah chuckled, remembering what she told Natty and Poppy the other day. She was glad that Amit became her friend. Even after the ordeal at the mine, they remained friends and became even better friends by the end of fifth year and to this day. She always appreciated his love for astronomy and ambition to write a memoir and even an account of what she went through.

It was probably because of his focus on astronomy and even learning gobbledegook that Amit had a calming presence in their little group. His head was in the clouds, while the rest of them were stuck with the chaos that took place everyday on the ground.

"Got any idea of who summoned you?" Norah thought to tease, curious as to how he had been doing since Ronen started the assignment. "Natty and Poppy already know who took their names."

Amit nearly dropped his fork and knife, flustered with her question. "I have no idea what you mean, Norah Lee," was all he could say.

She raised a brow. "You're not terrible at charms either. In fact, you're rather good at Charms, so you were either summoned or you did the summoning, hmm?"

Amit shook his head. "A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell."

She laughed. "Did you kiss your summoner?! Amit! Bloody hell!"

Her question made the Ravenclaw laugh as well. "No, I did not, but if you really want to know, it was Samantha who summoned me. She told me not long after Ronen announced the assignment," He admitted.

"Well she is good at Summoner's Court after all," Norah agreed. "She seems to really like you, though. Just as much as we do."

"She does," He said quietly, pausing to take a sip of pumpkin juice. "Who has summoned the Hogwarts hero, then?"

"No idea, really," She shook her head. "I only found out that my name was summoned after Sebastian told me. After I told them I haven't had a go at the board. I've been getting letters from a boy who calls himself "Nick" with riddles," She took out the note she had already opened. "The answer to this is a bat."

"A bat? Hmm," Amit hummed in thought. Even he was aware that there were bets being placed on who took Norah's name from Ronen's board.

Norah suddenly took out the new envelope that she received before coming to the room. As if like last time, there were confetti hearts that spilled out on her place setting. Taking out the green card, she saw the silver ink that had the all-too-familiar message.

To Norah Lee,

It was you, It was me, It was the silence underneath the stars That understand my heartbeat and its racing. You told me nothing, I believed everything, In that moment I found life In that moment I found you.

It would be an honor to have a moment of your time, To see your eyes maybe looking into mine. They come out at night without being seen, And are lost in the day without being stolen. Answer this riddle to get to me, Whisper this in a close friend's ear.

You will know if you are right, Wait for my note tomorow night.

Your Nick

"This note is a long one," Norah said quietly, reading it again when she had a second serving of chicken. "But he's quite a poet, it seems. Now I'm even more curious as to who this 'Nick' is after sending me all these notes with riddles and poems."

Amit looked intrigued. "Nick and Norah, I shall look forward to seeing the two of you together." He said, grinning as he finished his meal.

"That's not even his real name, at least I think it isn't," She said. Amit shrugged. "Nicholas Carrow is a fifth year. He's the only Nicholas I know in this school, well, aside from Nearly Headless Nick."

The mention of the ghost made the two of them laugh out loud. "Then I must admit, Nearly Headless Nick knows a good one when he sees them," Amit teased.

Norah read the note again, staring at the riddle portion. "Stars. The riddle is stars," She said. "At least I think the answer is stars," She showed him the note.

Amit took a quick glance and nodded. "Indeed it is. Are you sure you're not really a Ravenclaw?" He teased.

"Despite blue being my favorite color, I'm afraid not," She shook her head, putting the note down to finish her plate of food.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy angst #hogwarts legacy fluff #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #garreth weasley #amit thakkar #leander prewett #andrew larson #natsai onai #poppy sweeting #imelda reyes

[writing-intheundercroft]

II. A Letter from a Friend

When We're Older || AO3

“You’re quite an adept duellist, Mr. Sallow.” Hecat started, “and you have a keen understanding of curses and the dark arts.  I’ve received a letter from an old friend of mine who now works for Gringotts bank looking for references.” Hecat stood up, her hands folded behind her. “Of our sixth year students, I think you would be most suited for the curse breaker profession, and I’m happy to introduce you to Charles Rothwell, head of the curse breaker department.”

“Curse breaker?” Sebastian repeated.  How ironic.  There was only one curse Sebastian had ever endeavored to break, and yet he had failed miserably.

A/N: this ones for the 10 folks who read my exposition riddled fic on ao3 hehe ily

#sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x oc #when we're older #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fan fiction

[cdragons]

...Should I make Druig a dad w/ Katey (that's what Hecate!Eternal goes by, but it's still you ig?) with twin girls when the gang arrives...or is that too much?

Because I already got the names, powers, and personalities picked out: They are 4 in this.

Laoise (Light Manipulator & Solar Magic; very energetic & social butterfly, loves sneak attacks, very hands-on learner; the older twin so she is very close and protective of her baby sister; Nicknames: Little Dove, Our Dawn, Mighty Warrior, Little Light, Our Sun)

Aisling (Dream Prophet & Lunar Magic; more quiet and introverted, loves to hang in her mom's magical library & the Amazon medical hut, go-to lie detector; being the younger twin, she is shy but her big sister always reassures her that she is brave; Nicknames: Little Nightingale, Little Seer, Mini-Librarian, Sweet Thinker, Our Moon)

Both girls have Druig's eyes & dimples & freckles; but Laoise has his brown curls that are lighter with slight highlights, while Aisling's is much darker and slightly wavy. Both like to wear it long and loose, but will wear it up if it is done by their mom and dad.

Both are extremely close to their parents, and see your and Druig's relationship as gold standard, and hope for that in their future. They grew up watching how you two were still separate individuals, but a powerful unit. They witnessed every gentle kiss and tight embrace, every loving gaze and soft smile, all the whispers of love and reassurance, and the overwhelming love and respect you two held for one another.

They don't really ask their Aunt Sephie about love because one time they did, and she got really quiet. She was still smiling, but her eyes became sad, as if she was remembering a certain blue-eyed friend with a silver streak in his hair who would keep her secrets and held her heart.

There are 2 other kids, both you and Druig's biological kids, but you pretty much adopted them. They are both

Damian, it was a name he gave himself. He was born in what is now Pakistan but was sold to Turkish military. He was sold into the army and trained since birth to be a soldier. At 20, he was then killed by order of his commanding officer, and resurrected as a "Div or Dev". He was then given a very strict and formal education: learning many languages and varied skills. His favorite that he picked up was drawing and painting. The only person who treated him with kindness was Shireen, a servant girl who was mistreated due to having survived leprosy as a child. He pitied the little girl for being assigned to a killer, but she always reassured him that she was happy to be his friend. In response to her kindness, he offered to teach her how to read and write. When he learned of her death, he collected her ashes and killed everyone involved in her death before escaping to look for anyone who could revive her. Shireen was born into poverty, she doesn't remember much of her past. She remembers that she was sick for a very long time before recovering. But after she recovered, her mother started to yell for anything. Not only that, but she would beat and ignore her too. She cried at night asking why Allah would curse her with such a hideous child; it wasn't long until she disappeared. Shireen knew her mother was cruel to her, but she still loved her. A man would find her on the streets, and told her that she was sold to them. She was assigned to be the Div's servant. The other servants would tell her horrible stories about him: saying that he would tear her limb from limb, pluck out her eyes, and drink her blood. But she quickly discovered that wasn't true. She also remembered dying, and being lost. But soon she woke up...only...with wings?

Dear God, I have absolutely ZERO self-control.

Tagging: @spacetalbot, @valeskafics, @beananacake

#druig #druig imagine #druig headcanons #druig x reader #mcu #marvel x reader #marvel cinematic universe #marvel eternals #eternals #poc oc #2 poc oc #dad!druig #maybe? #do y'all want it? #eternals headcanons