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sungie · 2 years

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GIVING THE TOKREV CHARACTERS FLOWERS

includes: ran, rindou, kazutora, hanma, inui, kokonoi, chifuyu, mitsuya, sanzu, naoto

masterlist

HAITANI RAN

“Stop looking at me like that,” you frown, “just close your eyes.”

And Ran knows he should be good and listen. But there’s something so amusing about doing the opposite of what you want, and before he knows it, he’s peering into your face with a lazy smirk.

“Aw, c’mon. I know you want me, (Y/N). There’s no need to be so ashamed.”

A warning look flashes across your face.

Ran sighs. He backs up, lanky posture surely making his movements all the more comical, with his hands held in easy surrender. “Alright, alright.” He makes a show of closing his eyes, although there’s a thin sliver of light he lets breach past his lashes. “There. Happy?”

Apparently not.

He laughs as you press his eyelids shut yourself.

So cute.

He leans into your touch, intuitively chasing your wrist to press light kisses to your skin. “Hurry up, baby. You, of all people, know I don’t like being kept waiting.”

“So impatient,” you sigh, brushing a wisp of lavender hair from his forehead. “Hold out your hands.”

It can’t hurt to push a little more, can it?

“It’s not my hand that needs attention,” Ran tries, only for you to scold him.

“You’re so annoying, Haitani.”

Despite your irritated facade, Ran hears the affection behind your voice. Hears the playful lilt behind “Haitani”, feels the gentle way you uncurl his fingers from his palm. Feels the kiss you press to his cheek (which, from his long-exposure to hook-up culture should mean nothing) warms his heart–embarrassingly, so.

“There. You can look now.”

What’s so special about this gift that his eyes need to be closed? He starts to grin slyly, only to blink at the roses in his hand.

“You got me flowers?”

“Nice observation, asshole.”

Ran looks up to see you grinning, nearly bubbling over with excitement. “Like them?”

Not only are you cute; you’re also a thief. Ran tries demanding his air back, tries summoning the words that come so easily, but he’s left standing in front of you with stunned eyes and a flush carefully creeping up his cheeks.

“You really love me, don’t you?” He tries, scraping at old pick-up lines to save his skin.

“Silly. I’ve always loved you, Ran.”

His mouth parts. You’ve … never said it back before.

He slings an arm over his face, embarrassed at the vulnerability overshadowing his silvertongue.

“Don’t,” he mumbles, only to feel your hands tugging at his. “Told you already. I’m no good for you.”

“Don’t hide.” The lilt in your voice nearly resembles his. “Want to see your pretty face, Ran.”

That does it. He scowls. “You’re so dead.”

“Only if you catch me, first!”

HAITANI RINDOU

“For you!”

Rindou stares at the flowers in your hands. He feels the exact moment that giddy, i'm-on-top-of-the-world dopamine boost from teasing you drains away, leaving him speechless.

Leaves him floored into something else entirely, something he just can’t place his finger on.

He blinks slowly, eyes traveling from the wildflowers to the expression across your face.

“For me?” And ugh. He doesn’t mean for his voice to sound so quiet.

Guilt wraps its hands around his throat and squeezes hard. He kicks himself internally.

Because he hates the way your outstretched hand starts trembling, and he knows it’s all from the silence stretching tendrils in spaces everywhere between the two of you.

At your careful nod, Rindou feels his heart soften.

You got flowers for him? Someone like him?

It’s something so sweet–unexpectedly so. He doesn’t know how to react.

Ran never taught him anything like this, but he wracks his mind for knowledge anyso: how to respond when the person you love gets you flowers?

Don’t mess up, don’t mess up, don’t mess up.

He’s taking too long. And then, in that same quiet voice: “Did you pick them?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, eyes downcast. “I wasn’t sure if you liked flowers. Really, Rin, it’s okay if you don’t–”

“I want them.”

The certainty in his voice surprises him. It’s funny–the thought of you taking those flowers away irks him more than not knowing what to do.

He steps closer, hand gently cradling your neck as he presses you into his chest, his chin resting atop your head. “They’re purple.”

“I thought of you because they’re your–”

“–favorite color,” Rindou finishes. The realization makes him sigh. “You.” He rubs gentle circles into your skin. “You’re gonna be the end of me.”

As you clutch the lapels of his suit and lean closer to his chest, Rindou wraps his arms around your waist. He presses a kiss to your hairline. “Thank you,” he whispers. “I love them.”

“Really?”

“Really. I think,” he murmurs, suddenly shy, “I think I’ll show them off at work. Show everyone how lucky I am. Think they’ll look nice next to my window?”

The happiness radiating from you at his words makes his face scrunch. You’re turning him soft, aren’t you? Strangely, he doesn’t seem to mind.

HANEMIYA KAZUTORA

“People buy each other flowers?” Kazutora mumbles, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I don’t think so. Might just be something in the movies.”

Out the corner of his eye, he watches you furrow your brow.

“Really? You’ve never seen couples give each other flowers?” You tilt your head. “You know, like tokens of affection?”

“Nope.” Kazutora hopes this conversation ends soon. An itchy sort-of-feeling begins consuming him–you’re about to drop something over his eyes, he just knows it. “None of my friends got any game.”

“Your parents?”

Ah. There it is.

Kazutora looks to the side, darkly. “My father doesn’t deserve flowers.” And then, under his breath, “especially not from my mother.”

He shrugs, turning to you casually. “What about you? People get you any flowers?”

The sad expression on your face makes him wince. Half-of-him wants to reach out and take your hands: apologize, get on his knees for forgiveness, convince you there’s nothing to be upset about.

The other-half … he won’t speak it out loud.

“Once or twice,” you say, quietly, “but let’s not talk about it anymore.”

And he doesn’t. You don’t.

Not until now.

Kazutora wonders why the voice calling him now sounds so familiar. Nostalgia, huh?

The way you tumble out the car to rush toward him feels strangely cliche. But he doesn’t mind. Not really. Not when he melts into your arms after years of no-contact. Not when he breathes in and you smell just like he remembers–but better, he thinks–“your shampoo,” he murmurs, into your hair, “it smells nice.”

What are you … what are you doing here? He doesn’t want to let you go.

Your laughter in his ears sounds heavenly. “I remember you liked it. I went down memory lane trying to remember what brand it was.”

Kazutora’s eyes widen. “You did that, for me?”

“Of course, I did. You mean a lot to me.” With that, you gently press a handful of yellow tulips into his hands. “These are for you.”

Kaztuora looks at the flowers in stunned stupor. “What?” The words feel slow to form. He’s buffering, literally. Just glances at you in shock, hoping you can somehow tell what he’s feeling. Lucky for him, he thinks you do.

“I don’t know if you remember,” you start, “but we talked about flowers when we were kids.” Your face softens. “So, I wanted to get you some.”

Is that look … is it because of him?

He feels his eyes watering, feels his lips trembling. He hugs you tighter, burying his head in your shoulder.

“I missed you,” he blurts out, like it’s the only thing he can say. “I really … missed you. You know that, right?”

The fond smile tugging at your mouth makes his heart warm. Everything feels softer, in your arms. God. He missed this.

HANMA SHUJI

“What’s this?” Hanma teases, towering over you. “Some fucker got you flowers?”

He doesn’t wait for a response, only snatches them out your grasp to examine them closer. And he won’t admit it, would never, but the very thought of someone sweeping you off your feet fills him with absolute disgust.

“You like this sort of stuff?” He turns to you, curious. “I’d treat you right, sweetheart. Get you flowers like this every day. Give me a chance, how ‘bout it?”

Why are you sighing, now?

You step on his foot, hard. “Shuji.”

“I like that. ‘Shuji’. Sounds nice coming from you. Say it again.”

“You’re such an ass. I wanted to give those to you myself.”

Hanma stares at you, stunned. He isn’t fast enough to catch himself, not nearly, but he quickly eases a charming smile out his lips. “Can’t ever assume things with you, huh?” He grins, nudging your chin up. “I like it. You’re mine, now.”

“Nope.”

Hanma’s pleased to see the same wicked expression reflected right at him.

“I would be,” you continue, “but you stole those flowers from me.”

“So? You wanna teach me manners, now?”

“So, you’re mine.”

Oh … he gets it now. You’re tricky.

Hanma chuckles, then throws his head back in laughter. He regards you with an appraising look.

“Alright,” he says, softly, dangerously, running his thumb against your bottom lip. “I could get used to it.” His grip against your chin wanders down to your neck. “You really won’t be mine?”

“No,” you repeat, and Hanma thinks you’re much too pleased with yourself, “this is more fun.”

“Okay, I’ll play along.” His hand tightens; a mischievous warning. “I’m yours … for now.”

INUI SEISHU

Inui wakes to flowers tickling his cheek. A subtle hint of blue in his vision. He blinks to a bouquet resting atop your nightstand, still fresh and wrapped in plastic.

He frowns. It wasn’t there the night before; he’s sure of it.

“(Y/N)?” He walks into your kitchen, gingerly holding the flowers.

Lilacs, he thinks. Pretty like you. One second; he’s fine. In fact, you should vase them. They might start to wilt.

But … when did you have the time to get these? He isn’t sure. He knows, for a fact, you fell asleep first last night. And normally, you don’t wake much earlier than eight.

His eyes fall to the tag. Times New Roman font. I love you.

It’s 8:15.

Uneasiness creeps into him and stabs everywhere it touches. Someone else bought these for you. Who got you these?

Kitchen-sounds and something warm sizzling on the stove.

A cold feeling sinks its way through his bones. As soon as he meets your gaze, Inui feels the heaviness, all at once. It starts like pendulum swinging. Emotion off; smile forced; breath held.

“Hey, who’s this from?”

Your gaze alternates between the flowers and him with perplexion. “Me?”

Inui follows your gaze, glancing down at the bouquet. He can’t stop the hurt wincing across his features. Not heartless enough, he thinks. “You got yourself a bouquet that says, ‘I love you’?”

If possible, the look upon your face turns even more confused. “What?” Your eyes sweep across his face.

You don’t look like you’re lying.

All at once, your lips pursue in realization. You’re setting things aside, quickly rushing toward him to cup his face in your palms.

Despite it all, Inui melts into your hold. Your skin feels so soft against his.

“Oh no, Shu. I got them for you.”

Oh. The tension hollows from his shoulders like reverberation from a plucked violin string.

He looks down at the bouquet again, then at your genuine expression. Guilt fills all spaces until it’s the only thing he can think of. Only thing he can feel.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles. “I thought.” He can’t bring himself to finish.

How could he think something so awful? You’re not Koko. He needs to get it through his head.

“No,” you interrupt, gently brushing a lock of hair behind his ear, “don’t apologize.” The sincere look in your eyes makes him weak in the knees. “I should’ve added your name.”

Your arms wrap around his waist. “Seishu, look at me.”

He obliges, lip wobbling despite his attempts to smile.

“There’s only you. I promise.”

“I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you,” he whispers. “I do. I just. I just–”

“It’s easy to feel like you’re the wrong person?”

How do you know that?

You're already resting your hand against his neck, a gentle nudge to guide his head to the crook of your shoulder. You press a kiss to his temple. “Love you, Seishu. Love you so much.”

KOKONOI HAJIME

“You weren’t supposed to buy me flowers,” Kokonoi scolds, fussing with the scarf around your neck. “I already told you not to empty your wallet on me. Don’t you listen?”

The laugh from your lips sounds heavenly. You wrap your arms around his waist with a beam. “Don’t worry, Koko. I stole them.”

If possible, Kokonoi thinks his eyes might pop out their sockets. “You what?” He sighs, affectionately smushing your cheeks together with his palms. “Tell me why you decided to go and do something so stupid.”

You laugh gleefully. “I just borrowed them from my neighbor. They steal tangerines from me all the time, so I thought I’d return the favor. That’s all.”

Kokonoi can’t deny the smirk spreading across his lips. He shakes his head, lightly swatting the flowers against your face. “And what am I supposed to do with stolen goods? You got collateral for me?” He presses a kiss to the spot in between your eyes. “What if those neighbors hunt me down and demand them back? What then?”

“So many questions, Koko.” You hug him tighter, stepping even closer. “You can admire them? Smell them? Think about them late at night when I’m not with you and ja–”

Kokonoi groans. “You’re done.”

“Wait, wait! And I’ll get you more flowers. I’ll get you so many flowers you get tired of them. And next time I won’t steal them, I’ll just use your money–”

“That’s … also stealing,” Kokonoi interjects dryly. “From me.”

You flick his earring. “Anyway, what about me? What do I get for being such a nice person?”

He sighs, rolling his eyes. “Always an ulterior motive with you, hm?” He presses his lips to your forehead, clutching the flowers closer to his chest. “Now get off me.”

“Don’t want to.”

Kokonoi grumbles underneath his breath. He wraps his arm around your waist, then readjusts the two of you so he can easily access the kitchen counter. “Your loss. Guess you really won’t be getting anything.”

He slips the flowers into a vase, carefully adjusting the blossoms as they fall into the glass. He knows you’re watching, knows sentimentality softens the edges of his eyes, but he can’t bring himself to wipe away that sweet smile gently tugging at his lips. In fact, he doesn’t want to.

MATSUNO CHIFUYU

Chifuyu blinks as you lightly bop him on the head with a bouquet. That isn’t for him, is it?

He stares at you blankly, but based on the knowing grin on your face, he knows he’s shit at concealing the excitement bubbling behind his casual front.

“For you, ‘fuyu!”

He won’t lie, he imagined a moment like this before. A younger him gazing at the portrait of his late-father, belatedly wondering if his mother got him flowers before he passed. She must’ve … right? He hopes so. Wondering if he’d get flowers, one day, too.

Now staring back at you, he pretends to wave them off, partaking in some dance around lightly refusing the gift until it’s finally socially acceptable for him to take them off your hands.

“You didn’t have to,” Chifuyu starts, but he knows he’s smiling far too much to look any-sort of humble. “Are you sure you don’t want them?”

“Chifuyu,” you laugh, “I think you’ll explode if I keep them from you any longer.” You push the flowers back into his hands, placing yours on top of his. “It’s a gift. For you.”

He feels like floating. Or something. It feels like he is. Is he? Chifuyu knows he shrugged off the possibility of romance for so long, and now that it’s finally happening, it doesn’t quite feel real.

You’re talking now. Lips moving, sweet voice saying something he struggles to conceptualize. “–got them from the farmer’s market, and I thought of you because–”

Chifuyu can’t help it. He hugs you tightly with one arm, making sure to keep the flowers out of squishable-reach.

“You’re the best. Like, actually the best.” He already knows the perfect place for them. He’ll split the bouquet in half, put one-half in a vase near his bedside table, the other on his dining table.

“It’s a bouquet of baby’s breath,” you continue, cheeks smushed into his chest. “I thought they’d look pretty in your apartment. Plus, they’re my favorite, and I wanted to give you something I love.”

Chifuyu doesn’t think you can make him any happier. Can you feel his heart? It’s so warm. Just for you. All for you.

“Let me return the favor, yeah?” He plucks a flower from the bouquet and nervously tucks it behind your ear. “I want to give something to the person I love.”

MITSUYA TAKASHI

“You sure know how to sweep a guy off his feet,” Mitsuya teases, holding the flowers close to his chest. “Really pulling out all the stops, too.”

It’s cute, watching you try to quell the embarrassment surely arising from his words. “No,” you try, putting on a brave face, “just wanted to do something nice. No big deal.”

“Ah,” Mitsuya grins, “that’s a shame. Was gonna ask you to dinner tomorrow night.”

You nearly whine, pressing your hands to your face. “Oh my god, you’re so–agh.”

“You see,” he continues, almost smugly, “there’s this person who just got me flowers. My favorite, actually. I really like them, but they just see me as a friend.”

He gently tilts your chin up, to face him. “Said they were just doing something nice, by giving me these flowers. But they’re so cute. Despite what they say, I’ve got a feeling they might like me back. Think I’ve still got a chance?”

Your mouth parts. You stare at him incredulously, then nod shakily. “I think you’ve always had a chance.”

Mitsuya can’t stop the smile that crosses his face. It’s bright, maybe a little too bright, but he can’t help it.

“Alright,” he says, and he’s amazed he’s still got his cool, because his heart feels like it’s about to fly out his chest, “tomorrow at five. I’ll pick you up.”

And before you leave, he’s running back to you, reaching for your hand. “Wait.”

The hopeful look you send him makes him flush, and he grins cheerfully. “I’ll be getting you flowers next time. Just you wait.”

SANZU HARUCHIYO

“Gotta throw these fucking weeds out, Haitani.” Sanzu picks up a bouquet on the center-table with two fingers. “Gross. Did Valentine's Day come early, or some shit?”

He doesn’t miss the deadpanned stare you send his way. “Haruchiyo, those are roses.”

“So? It’s July.”

Haitani Ran appears out of nowhere to snatch the bouquet from his grasp. “Get your fucking hands off,” he warns, “those are mine. Don’t touch what isn’t yours.”

“Sore spot?” Sanzu raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Didn’t know you were such a sentimentalist.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ran glowers, clutching the roses possessively to his chest. “Get outta my sight.”

“You’ll regret that.” He steps toward Ran, only pausing when your hand tugs against his suit.

“C’mon,” you murmur. “He’s ugly. Isn't worth it.”

Sanzu’s hand immediately wraps around your waist, tugging you flush to him. “Let’s dip,” he mutters lowly into your ear, “Can’t stand him.”

Out in fresh air, he runs a hand through his hair. “What’s the big deal?” He turns to you. “Never thought he’d get so worked up over nothing.”

You sigh, reaching for his hand. “Should’ve done this sooner, huh?”

“Done what?” The look on his face nearly resembles a pout. “You know something I don’t? If you’re keeping secrets with Haitani, I won’t be happy.”

“So jealous,” you sigh, covering his eyes. “Don’t peek and wait here. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Whatever,” Sanzu mutters, “just come back soon.” He watches you disappear into a shop, then waits outside, scuffing the sidewalk with the soles of his shoes.

You reappear in front of him with a giddy smile. “Look, aren’t these pretty?”

Sanzu blinks, bewildered at the bouquet of pink flowers in your hands. “What the hell is this?”

The laugh creases against your eyes. You swat him, lightly. “They’re peonies. Wanna know what they mean?”

“No.”

You tell him anyway. “Love, beauty, happiness.”

Sanzu scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You don’t need flowers to confirm that. I could’ve told you that myself.” He straightens up, tugging you closer to him. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” He flicks your cheek. “There. Next time you’re feeling sad, just ask.”

“No,” you laugh. You brush a lock of hair behind his ear. “Got these for you, baby.” The sweet look on your face makes him flush. “You’re beautiful and make me happy.”

Sanzu scowls. He snatches the flowers before you can finish, simultaneously wrapping his arm around your waist just so his face can’t be seen clearly by you.

“Let’s go,” he grumbles, “you’re the fucking worst.”

He doesn’t allow you to mention the bright blush lighting up his cheeks, or the stupid smile tugging at his lips as the two of you head home.

TACHIBANA NAOTO

Naoto sighs, eyes half-lid and exhausted. He leans back in his chair, loosely unbuttoning his collar with one hand as he thinks of the amount of overtime he plans to put in this week.

There’s still so much to cover, and with Takemichi wandering around somewhere in the past, Naoto needs to learn everything, just in case.

A knock sounds on his door.

Naoto barely reacts. “What is it?”

You peer through the door, eyes widening as you take in his appearance. “Sorry, am I bothering you?”

Naoto straightens back up, attentive. “Not at all.”

He glances at your state in concern. “It’s late. Go home. I told you to rest and take care of yourself.”

His words must ignite something in you, because you huff in irritation and walk straight to his desk. “You’re one to talk, Tachibana. You look like you’ll pass out on us anyday, now.”

Your check his forehead temperature, mutually concerned. “You’re burning up. Come on, go home.”

He blinks, stunned. “That’s not important.” But he can’t deny it; he’s softening into your touch. Your skin feels so cool against his. Relief he didn’t know he needed. Didn't know he wanted.

“Alright,” your face sets in determination. “I’ll go home when you go home.”

Naoto’s eyes widen. “No–”

“–yes. You’re sick, I’m telling you.” You shift, bashfully. “Anyway, I didn’t come here to nag you.”

With a breath for bravery and the sweetest smile tugging at your lips, you quickly push a bundle of flowers into his face. “For you!” you say, already on your way out. “Don’t work too hard, Tachibana.”

You got him flowers?

They’re gorgeous. Are they really … for him?

“Wait,” he starts, pushing past his desk to grab the sleeve of your wrist, “wait, please.” He holds the flowers gingerly, almost fearful he’ll do something wrong, hold them wrong, maybe? Is that a thing? He isn’t sure. “I appreciate it, but what for?”

“You’re always working so hard,” you murmur, clearly embarrassed, “so I wanted to get you something small. Don’t forget to take care of yourself, too.”

Naoto’s smiling. It starts in his eyes, but even he can’t help the expression from softening his normally heavy-set features. Do you realize you’ve mirrored his words? It’s sweet. Cute, even.

“Alright,” he says, eyes twinkling, “one hour. Get whatever you need done, and then we’re both going home.”

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eggymf-archived · 9 months

Text

of paper planes and wildflowers; 13

ft. ominis gaunt with f!reader (series)

chapter warnings: nsfw, smut, porn with feelings, peeves (again), romantically feral(?) sex, cunnilingus, orgasm denial, p in v, doggystyle, just two idiots tryna bang and ended up banging in the end (noice)

chapter summary: for the sake of preserving your newfound relationship with ominis, you devised a solution that would grant you both joys of privacy: creating a hideout within a hideout.

word count: 6.9k (eyyyy lmao)

a/n: lacking the confidence with this chapter but i guess it’s kinda cute lmao. and wow those chapter warnings look kinda boring but it is what it is

main masterlist || series masterlist || AO3

A life— a mere thread on its own; a crucial medium for an ongoing magnum opus. It was a fascinating concept that survived the ravages of time, representing every living being as a single thread that has been intricately woven within the never-ending textile that depicts the entire world.

Like all tales that had been woven into existence by the unrivaled artisan of this fabled fabric, your story with Ominis was no different— a testimony to divinity's versatile cunning and vie in plotting one's destiny.

It was all rather comical initially: getting involved in consecutive unsavory acts that resulted in both your voluntary separation, only to be brought back together by a sudden, random intrusive thought of sending a letter to a random person. One would never have thought of such a scenario to be the bridge that connects two souls together— to end up being in good spirits despite their initial prejudice against each other. In fact, nobody would've suspected that the two of you would fall in love in the first place.

Needless to say, despite all the stacked odds, the both of you were undoubtedly an excellent match.

Oh, but what is a seemingly perfect love story without a little bit of conflict in the mix? Two people from opposing families falling for each other in the silliest way possible? That ought to stir quite the drama— a show that Ominis would've loved to eavesdrop on while sipping a cup of tea from the finest porcelain in his possession. Alas, it was a shame that he was one of the two who were directly involved in the problem along with you.

Fortunately, the solution for your current situation was simple enough: hide now, explain later. The oath of confidentiality was the shield of your relationship temporarily— at least until the both of you find a way to navigate through this sticky situation. Regardless of luck or whatever that was smiling upon your relationship, both of you had a part to play to preserve this bond.

It was a typical day in Hogwarts for the most part: just the usual students clamoring through their academics in preparation for their respective futures. Ominis was sitting in one of the few desks within an empty circular room that contained many globes and rolls of parchment tucked away neatly in the wall's built-in shelves. His hand was flipping through a particularly thick book on Herbology, while the other was scribbling away on a piece of parchment as he awaits your arrival.

It was an optional gesture, really. In fact, he should be focusing on his own essays, not jotting down summarized notes to help you speed up your process in this assignment. But then again, it was killing two birds with one stone: it would help him recall details for their upcoming exams, while also making your life a tad bit easier during these trying times— something that he'd definitely do for the sake of both love and efficiency.

“Ominis!”

At long last, his muse finally arrives.

Ominis was jolted right out of his focus, your familiar scent of peonies and freesias lingering faintly in the air as he instinctively ran his palm through his hair to smooth out any stray flyaways.

“I have the books that we need. Goodness gracious, I've never seen the library so crowded before,” you whined, slamming a stack of books that you held on the nearby vacant chair. The first few books on your pile floated towards the lithe-framed male, putting themselves right beside his ink pot. He pointed his wand at the empty space beside his desk, conjuring another desk and chair for you to use.

You gratefully allowed yourself to sit sluggishly at the seat next to him as you instantly slumped over the desk to rest your head on its wooden surface. You were visibly perplexed— a frown etched onto your features and your eyebags were becoming rather prominent due to insufficient sleep and countless workloads.

For the past week, the entire batch of 5th years had been plunged into the depths of academic hell alongside the other upperclassmen within the school. There had been consecutive mock exams and quizzes to prepare students for the upcoming OWLs and NEWTs along with mountains of assignments that had your wits pulled taut, ready to snap at any moment.

Aside from the whole ordeal affecting your sanity in terms of your studies, it has certainly been taking a toll on your personal needs as well. Despite spending copious amounts of time together as study buddies with Ominis, there was no doubt that the warm embraces and discreet little pecks from each other were sorely missed. The both of you could only grumble at the darned invisible wall of responsibility that had cruelly separated the both of you apart, giving you no choice but to behave yourselves for almost a week and counting.

And boy, was it utterly agonizing.

Your visibly frustrated eyes scanned the circular room, and much to your quiet glee, it was just you and Ominis alone.

Surely this time, there wouldn't be any interruptions, right? It was a peaceful Saturday with most students either going to Hogsmeade, staying in the library, or lounging about in the common rooms. Not a single soul was around, and there weren't any notably nosy portraits nearby that could potentially rat the both of you out.

Maybe it was time to try your luck.

The sound of quill scribbling on parchment halted the moment he felt the pads of your fingertips trace along the knuckles, seemingly in a thoughtless daze.

“... Yes, darling?”

You bid your silent farewell to your proper decorum, scooting over towards Ominis and resting your head on his shoulder. He visibly tensed upon feeling the slight shift in weight before easing up as you shift your head to a more comfortable position.

“It's just the two of us, in case you were wondering,” you mumbled. “Give me five minutes and I'll continue studying.”

It was blatantly obvious. You missed him— a lot.

He smirks at this, snaking his arm around your waist to pull you closer. Suppressing a wide grin from making its way to your face, you press your lips thinly into a line, removing your head from his shoulder briefly to stare cheekily at his visage.

“Five minutes of what exactly?” he whispers into your ear coyly, placing his quill down. “This?”

He didn't give you a chance to even answer the question properly, a soft eek escaping your lips as he turned your body to face him. His palm was placed firmly against the small of your back, slender fingers tilting your chin up to look at him. His warm breath fanned against your reddened face while you held your breath, biting back an uncharacteristic squeal that threatened to escape your lips.

Despite his calm exterior, he was, in fact, just as frustrated as you were— the only difference is that he was craving for something a bit more than mere hand-holding and butterfly kisses. And for you to fall right into his trap of agreeing to study in this desolate place? Voluntarily handing yourself over to him who desired nothing more than to savor you in every possible way?

Maybe the both of you were on the same page all this time, merely hiding each of your intentions behind a veil of innocent nonchalance. Regardless of his raging hormones, however, he prided himself as a gentleman with morals— the final decision was always yours.

He could only sigh with pure adoration, feeling the supple skin of your face and the plushness of your lips against his fingertips. Your eyelids slowly fluttered shut at his soft caress as he leaned forward, his lips slowly reaching their desired designation.

“WHEEEEEEE!”

A certain poltergeist emerged from the stone wall, immediately shattering the deliciously tense atmosphere between you and Ominis, much to Ominis’ sheer agony. The young Gaunt was absolutely seething at this point— if thoughts could kill, Peeves would've been decimated by the horrific, murderous intentions that Ominis had conjured up within his mind all in a split second despite the non-being's incapability of death.

Of course, he shan't show how miffed he truly is with that insufferable amortal. There were many different ways of expressing rage and disdain, after all.

He responds to the situation in an eerily calm manner, shutting his books and putting away his writing materials neatly, walking over to your own stack of books and tucking it under his arm alongside his own. You could only stare at him dumbfoundedly as you tail after him out of concern. Before leaving the circular room, Ominis quickly swishes his wand casually towards a very cackly Peeves, the poor poltergeist's gyrating voice immediately muffled as his tongue gets glued to the roof of his mouth by Ominis' non-verbal jinx.

Oh, he was cross, alright. Very cross. The sight of your lover’s cold fury had shivers running down your spine— whether it is out of fright, attraction, or both, you had no plans on adding fuel to his stress-induced fire.

Merlin, all he wanted was at least a damn kiss and the universe seems to be forbidding him from getting one from you. What was the bloody point of allowing him to be with you if he couldn't even give you a smooch at least once a day? Unacceptable. How utterly outrageous.

But no matter— he had a solution to this entire problem, albeit his reluctance.

Perhaps it was time to divulge one of his many secrets to you. With Skylar and Sebastian out of the castle grounds this particular weekend, he could finally bring you to his hideout where the both of you could finally have some uninterrupted time alone.

But even with his confident, anger-fueled strides, he had his own reservations when it comes to bringing you into the Undercroft. It was sure to be dusty, and messy— far from being a romantic spot since that's where he and Sebastian often practiced spells of varying kinds; specifically the more destructive and forbidden ones.

It felt rather silly of him to be in jitters knowing that you've probably been through filthier places considering your knack for spontaneous outdoor adventures during non-winter months, but it doesn't change the fact that you're his lady now. There are certain things that he'd rather not let you see out of gentlemanly respect.

It was too late for him to back out now, though— the both of you were currently standing before the allegedly dysfunctional clock beneath the Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom. You tilted your head in confusion, your line of sight darting towards the blonde-haired male.

“Ominis, darling. Why exactly are we standing in front of this old clock?”

The faintest of smiles graces Ominis' lips.

“You'll see.”

He flicks his wand towards the direction of the clock, its cogwheels, and mechanisms begin to click and spin before it halts with a distinct clang. Your brows raised in surprise as its face swung wide open, revealing a concealed passageway.

“Huh, would you look at that? Another dark, ominous corridor,” you peered curiously at the dimly lit stairwell leading down to an unknown area. “I think I'm sensing a pattern here.”

“Oh shush. Just go in,” he scoffs in amusement. You gladly obliged, eyes glimmering with excitement and wonder while Ominis follows suit, the door immediately closing behind him upon his entry. With his fingers finally intertwined with yours, he led you down the dimly lit stairwell slowly with the red blinking tip of his wand guiding you both. Upon arriving at the end of the stairwell, Ominis whisks his wand once again, the metal gates rising up to reveal a large room filled with crates, training dummies, and several spare tables and small blackboards.

Hogwarts truly never fails to surprise you with its plethora of hidden locations.

“Goodness, I never would've imagined there'd be a room all the way down here,” you mused, taking in your surroundings with great interest. “Is there anyone else who knows of this place?”

“It's… A Gaunt family secret, I suppose. But only me, Sebastian, Anne, and Skylar know of it. Also, we call this the Undercroft.”

You strolled around the relatively large room, taking note of several odd things that had piqued your interest: the blackboards that had several angry scribbles and notes written in Ancient Runes, Phoenician, Greek, Cyrillic, and Aramaic, the nearby blank stone wall that has faint golden inscriptions of magic circles and runes, and a triptych with two ripped-out canvases.

“Seems like a perfect base for illicit little studies and spell-casting. I’m assuming Sallow has been studying the spellbook intensively in here?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I've been staying away from this place for that very reason,” Ominis sighed, scratching his nape sheepishly. “Honestly, we haven't been talking much ever since that day in the scriptorium. He's been fixated on that book, and it feels quite rotten to linger around knowing that your own best friend is studying the dark arts.”

You instinctively reached for his hand, rubbing small circles against his pale skin.

“Understandable. I still feel quite disturbed about what happened there, and I'm sorry you can't stay here as much. But that aside, it's not like we'd get much privacy either if we have our little cuddling sessions within this place,” you lightly joked in an attempt to ease the simmering tension. “For all we know, either one of them could walk in on us. I'd rather not risk it.”

Ominis chuckles mirthfully, much to your relief.

“And I’d rather not let you sit on any of these dusty crates or the floor, actually. Not the most romantic spot for a quick little kiss either,” he hums. “But I'd rather stay here with you than pop a blood vessel out of rage at every bloody interruption that occurs out there.”

You giggled in response at his words as the both of you sauntered towards the far corner of the Undercroft that had several barrels stacked atop of one another, pondering deeply on a solution. A nice little place for the both of you to relax in was certainly an enticing notion. Your eyes wandered towards a large, empty chest in front of you.

“Hmm. I think I might have an idea.”

“Oh? What do you have in mind?”

“A hideout within a hideout. Just for us,” you replied proudly, piquing his interest. “No one’s using this chest, right?”

Ominis traces his palm against the lacquered wooden surface.

“No.”

“Good. This will do. Stand back,” you instructed. Casting a non-verbal spell, the fastenings of its metal band and any external locking mechanisms were lifted, the little bits of metal falling onto the stone floor with a distinct clink. Its dimensions began to extend slightly, making the chest slightly longer and wider.

“Capacious Extremis.”

The wooden chest began to rattle and shake as if something was moving within it. While the Extension Charm worked its effects, you cast more spells on the object: the Imperturbable Charm, Salvio Hexia, and several other security spells and additional charms. As soon as the wooden chest ceased its movements, you knocked a specific beat on the chest, prompting it to open while a flight of stairs materialized within the seemingly cramped, poorly-lit space.

“Shall we?” you grinned excitedly, clasping his hand. Anticipation was buzzing within his mind, ever so curious about what you had in store as you led him down the flight of stairs carefully.

As you had anticipated, the small, empty space was unfurnished, the only light source originating from the opening where the both of you had entered. With a flick of your wand, wall sconces materialized out of thin air to illuminate the space, placing themselves in strategic locations. Several incantations rolled out your tongue, conjuring and summoning various kinds of textiles, a lot of pillows, and a large bed frame with a cushy mattress before arranging them all at the far end of the room. The little nook now resembles a neatly-made pillow fort that could easily accommodate two people— its opening framed by thick curtains that could be utilized if its user desires more privacy.

Meanwhile, an L-shaped bookshelf with its own built-in table was slowly being pieced together on its own, and various books were floating about and sorting themselves while two chairs popped out of thin air, tucked neatly under the study table. The books that Ominis held flew out of his clutches, placing themselves atop the table. A Potions station was being constructed near the study corner: a small counter placed itself at the far corner while ingredients within glass jars lined themselves up neatly on the shelves.

You pointed your wand at the vacant space at the center of the room, a fireplace embossing itself from the blank wall, and a small loveseat sofa materialized before it. The flooring changes from stone to marble, while the ceiling morphs into a glass dome, revealing the appearance of the artificial night sky that you could change at your own will. A large window also carved itself at the wall recess at the bed area, revealing a view of the moonlit landscapes of the Highlands.

While ornaments and decorations were slowly appearing and organizing themselves according to the vision within your head, Ominis roamed around the room, taking in his newly-made surroundings through his rapidly-blinking wand. The former staleness within the enchanted space now felt warm and cozy, the faint scent and sound of the crackling fireplace flooding his senses. Pointing your wand towards the entrance, the lid of the wooden chest slams shut.

You had devised everything in a way that was both functional and convenient for him to navigate through with little to no possible accidents even without his wand: no obstructions at its designated areas for foot traffic and sufficient room for him to comfortably move around. Even the spines of the books in the study corner had bumps embossed onto its surface, the text translated conveniently for him to Braille.

Upon reaching the far end of the room, he immediately sat down on the plush bed, sighing at its comfiness as he leaned back against one of the fluffy pillows. Your eyes scanned the room as you approached Ominis, pleased with the outcome of your little impromptu project before plopping right beside him, removing your Mary Janes.

“This turned out quite well, didn’t it? A hideout within a hideout!”

Ominis chuckles. “That’s quite the understatement, my dearest. I believe you’ve outdone yourself this time.”

“I’ll gladly accept that compliment, thank you very much!” you chirped.

He could only marvel at your prowess in Transfiguration and Charms: successfully creating a special little place like this just for the both of you within such a short period with little to no sweat wasn’t an easy feat for a young witch such as yourself.

“You know, I’ve actually always wanted to do something like this,” you shared, crawling towards the pillows and hugging one as you leaned against the wall. “Seems quite oddly reminiscent of typical childhood memories, no? Pillow forts, a secret base, and just the two of us. It’s as if we’re playing house.”

The fondness within your voice made his heart hammer within his chest, his unseeing milky blue eyes containing a sense of gentleness within them. Kicking off his shoes, he sits beside you, smiling wryly.

“I've never experienced those memories for myself, actually. And I certainly didn't expect to experience it right now either,” he responds softly, much to your surprise. Ominis wasn’t the type who would usually get caught up in future possibilities, but the thought of you possibly becoming his wife has undoubtedly stirred something within his soul.

He could definitely get used to the joys of domestic settings, but alas, inexperience has a nasty habit of planting the seed of doubt within wounded hearts.

“Isn't it too early to come to that conclusion?” he thought, his serene expression slowly faltering.

It wasn't a pretty notion— the intrusive thought would most likely serve as a possible topic for him to overthink about for the remainder of the day. You, however, with elation brimming from your chest, beamed at his confession.

“Well, I’m glad I’m the first! Let's make the most out of it, shall we?”

And with just that, the awful din within his brain was immediately dispelled.

One thing was for certain amidst the stockpiles of unfavorable circumstances— he loves you most ardently, and that's all that truly matters at this point. He'll always choose to be with you no matter what.

“So… Do you like it? I know you can't exactly see what it looks like, but I've arranged everything in— mmmph!”

Gone were his reservations and resistance to his urges, hastily planting his eager lips onto yours with a sense of direness whilst cradling your face within his palms. Desperation was laced within every single one of his movements, his hand trailing to the small of your back and the other to the back of your head.

It was a hold that only he could pull off— an embrace that encompasses protectiveness and love all with a dash of possessiveness and lust.

All for you. Only for you.

It has been far too long since your last exchange of physical intimacy with him, and the thought of what may transpire next sends a delicious little jolt right into your aching core. Your body clearly yearned for him, easily succumbing to even the slightest of his touch.

Thus, you gave in to his unspoken request, straddling his lap whilst gazing into his eyes that rival even the most pearlescent of opals before kissing him once more, your tongues entangling themselves fervidly. He was just as needy as you were, his member throbbing and twitching beneath the fabric of his trousers, hissing at the delicious warmth that had been brought upon his most sensitive area.

The both of you soon parted, your lungs craving for oxygen after that heated exchange. Your hazy gaze drank his form, biting your lip at how gorgeous he looked.

Disheveled blonde hair, flushed cheeks, bitten-red lips, and misty blue eyes darkened with intoxicating desire— the sight of Ominis reduced to such a state made you swoon.

“You truly are quite the sight, my love,” you murmur against the side of his lips before partaking in yet another passion-ridden kiss, to which he appreciatively responds with a soft groan. “And to think that you're all mine… It is truly an honor.”

Never have you ever been so spellbindingly enamored towards a man, and the intensity of your romantic feelings only served to make you even more insatiable for him. Truth be told, he hadn't expected you to be so bold this time around either, but he relished in the thought that it was only he who is given the privy to have you in this form: greedy for his touch and deeply in love with him, just as he was utterly and irrevocably in love with you.

Words will never be enough to describe his precious feelings, and he intends to go the extra mile for the message to be conveyed to you with his actions.

“I hope you're ready for what awaits you, my dearest,” Ominis mutters against your ear hotly. “... Because we aren't leaving this place until you're thoroughly satisfied.”

The ribbon around your neck was slowly loosened as he tugged on its ends, followed by the unbuttoning of the first button of your blouse, then the second, teasingly halting at the third. A whine bubbled from your lips as he dove into the crook of your neck, assaulting the delicate skin with open-mouthed kisses and occasional licks.

Ominis softly croons your name, inhaling the dizzying scent of your perfume and musk that sends him into a euphoric state. You were an addiction; a drug he could never forgo— it was evident with the way he held you oh so possessively: holding you close to his torso with his mouth latched onto your slender neck, bestowing the expanse of your skin with purplish red marks all while battling the primal urge of sinking his teeth onto your flesh.

He hums with gratification upon feeling your dainty fingers raking through his scalp, your head thrown back generously to grant him better access to your neck. His sinful tongue had already disintegrated the remnants of your self-control at this point, and you wanted nothing more than to chase the desires of your own heated flesh. Your hips began to rock shamelessly, your shaky breath fanning across his ears at the pleasant stimulation. Ominis bit back a moan, his cock delightfully twitching at the sensation of your movements.

“Mmm... Yes… Keep going…” he gasps at the delicious friction of you voluntarily grinding your clothed slit against his concealed shaft. “Such a good girl for me…”

The strain in his pants was getting unbearable by the second, droplets of his precum slowly seeping through the fabric with every sigh of his name that spilled from your saccharine lips. The growl that rumbled from his chest only served as kindling for the ever-growing flames of your feminine pride, the side of your lips twitching ever so slightly into a smirk.

It was only a matter of time before he finally abandons all remaining shreds of his self-restraint. Who would’ve thought that you could be quite the little tease yourself?

You were taking your sweet time— lazily undoing his tie and unbuttoning his vest and shirt to reveal his pristine alabaster skin beneath the layers of fabric. A pleasant shudder ran through his body as you dragged your tongue along the column of his neck.

“Ominis… My dearest, Ominis…”

The way you uttered his name with such need had him whimpering, biting his lower lip as your tongue danced across the side of his neck once more. He gulped, letting out a harsh exhale through his mouth as the pads of his fingertips sank into the plushness of your bum.

“Gods... I can’t take this anymore.”

A gasp escapes your mouth as he harshly pushes you down the mattress. He was mindless at his point, panting as his hands began to haphazardly strip you from all articles of clothing— all of which ended up getting tossed randomly in the room in reckless abandon. You bit your lip as he began to shed all of his clothing one by one.

You were visibly flustered at his tasteful display, witnessing every flex of his toned muscles while your hungry eyes feasted on his bare form. He wastes no time caging you within his lithe frame, lips swooping down to meet yours in a sweet, passionate kiss. It was the calm before the storm; the stark opposite treatment of what was about to happen during the remainder of this session the longer he remains in this dangerous state of unbridled lust.

The overall experience so far was absolutely divine on his end: caressing your supple skin that was smooth to the touch, inhaling your heady scent as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, all while hearing your breathy moans as he slides his long fingers oh so languidly against your folds.

“So fucking drenched for me…” he hisses softly, before sitting up to lick his honeyed appendages clean.

“Mine… All mine.”

He grabbed a hold of your ankles, pushing your spread-out legs up before pressing his palm against the back of your thigh to secure you in place. He loved it all— feeling his lips glide across your delicious skin before stopping at your entrance, his shaky breath fanning over your leaking pussy.

It was an obscene position— your legs pried wide open by his palms with your knees close to your chest. You were completely exposed to him, and his mouth was hovering dangerously close to your tight little hole. The scent of your honeypot worsened his unbearable urge to viscerally please you with his tongue; preferably until you were a screaming, quivering mess. He already knew you were going to squirm once his wet muscle landed upon your delicate flower, which prompts him to grasp your thighs harder.

“Stay still for me, will you?” he rasps with pure arousal. “I need to devour you right now.”

A tremor racked through your thighs at the lewdness of his request. Without hesitation, he licks an experimental stripe along your drenched slit, moaning at your delectable taste while you cry in delight, your pelvis bucking up to his face instinctively.

Truth be told, you weren’t expecting him to be this ravenous— delving his tongue into your folds to collect as much of your juices as possible. But feeling the actual texture of his tongue once again had your brain turning into mush. He felt your thighs attempt to close themselves shut, but your resistance only spurred his mouth to do far more atrocious deeds upon your most sensitive area.

He yanks you closer to him, draping your legs over his shoulders, his lips never parting from your core as it closes in at your little pearl. Air ceased to exist within your lungs as he flicked his tongue against the bundle of nerves, attacking it with gentle suckles and teasing little prods. Your hands were clawing haplessly against the sheets, gripping whatever it could land itself on as molten fire surged within your veins, your mouth running dry as you gasped for air. You were helpless, given no choice but to keep taking all that he was bringing upon your body, and you loved every single second of it.

It felt too good— how forceful he is, the merciless flicks of his talented tongue, and his fingers that pistons itself in and out of your twitching hole. A chuckle rumbled from his chest as he felt your thighs slowly breaking into tiny little quivers: a tell-tale sign that you were nearing your release.

You were so close. So fucking close.

Until he stopped, ripping his mouth away from you.

“W…Why did you— ah!”

He flips you over harshly, his palms hoisting you up by your hips: face down and ass up— just like how he had initially wanted. You felt yourself flush a deep shade of red at yet another provocative position, letting out a surprised mewl as he gave you one final lick from the tip of your nerve bundles all the way up to your dripping folds.

His cock was so painfully stiff: pulsating and leaking beads of clear liquid at the tip. Ominis guides the head of his hardened length on your entrance, teasingly swiping the tip along your well-lubricated slit before easing his way into you, gritting his teeth at the mind-numbing warmth of your slick walls.

“Ohhh, gods… That's it… Gods, you feel incredible…” he drunkenly moaned softly as he bottomed out, indulging in the velvety hold of your fluttering walls. The grip on your waist only tightens as he motions you to the rhythm of his thrusts. It was just like how he remembered— you being oh so utterly pliant to his debauchery and providing him the best sensations that he could ever dream of.

But this time, it was different. Never had he felt such an array of emotions towards any other person in his entire life. He was young, yes— but he was positively sure that he had been ruined for anyone else. He could never want any other person after all of this. It will always be you. Only you.

The soft groans of your name sounded like a longing prayer as he murmured it onto your flesh, your mind buzzing out of sheer elation as he peppered your nape and shoulders with a flurry of kisses. You propped yourself up on top of the pillows, and you felt him hug your body closer to his. His lips trailed from your shoulder blade all the way to the back of your ear, nipping lightly at the sensitive skin.

Feeling you arch your back against him, he encases your neck into a gentle grasp, humming in satisfaction as you rub your nose affectionately against his cheek.

“Gods, I love you. I love you so much…”

You sighed fondly at his profession, claiming his lips with yours, whispering your response amidst the breathy exchange of heated kisses.

“I love you more.”

He couldn't have been happier, nuzzling a ticklish spot on your neck which you responded with a burst of giggles while smiling from ear to ear.

Ominis resumes his movements, his shaft gliding slowly and deeply within you in short strokes. Letting out a soft whine, you began to move your hips to meet his. He took this as a sign, and soon enough, his sense of restraint was thrown out the window once more.

Your stuttered moans were like music to his ears as he gradually started to pound into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin getting more prominent within the quaint little space that the both of you shared. Puffs of warm breath in accompaniment with whispered praises fanned across your ears while you mewled in response in a heady daze. His hands danced along your sides in silent worship; as if he's committing every dip and curve to memory within this moment— that it was he who had reduced you into nothing but a moaning mess.

Ominis grunted, feeling your gummy walls clench as soon as he finally hit the spot that had your eyes rolling out of sinful indulgence. Squelches were soon added to the ongoing symphony of concupiscence, clear slick trickling down your inner thighs as his thrusts quickened. Your head was thrown back, jaw slackened, heaving out gasps of intoxicated, broken pleas.

“Right there… Please, don't stop… Oh, fuck!”

You were close to the edge, and he felt it with his own body— the shudders that racked through you out of your own sensitivity, and the tantalizing constriction of your tight little pussy. This time, he would be more than glad to grant your sweet release.

A cry of surprise bubbled from your lips, the pad of his fingertips swirling around your pert nipples before twisting and pinching them gently as he continued to snap his hips against you. Electrifying shocks of pleasure flowed from your chest to the entirety of your body in a matter of seconds, your heated core gripping his pulsating cock. Your own trembling fingers reach for your swollen clit, rubbing languid circles as your mind slowly blanks out into oblivion.

“Fuck, I'm close…” he spoke through gritted teeth, achingly trying to prolong his release. “Where do you want it, my love?”

You could only smile at the question deliriously, rubbing your pearl faster as you inched closer to your own high. “Inside… Please, cum inside me. Please…”

How could he ever say no to that?

Every single rock of his pelvis resulted in a delicious moan, spurring him to drive himself deeper and faster within your core to quell the ever-growing, scalding desire that pooled within his loins. The both of you were a complete mess— bodies clad in sweat, hair sticking onto damp skin, and your own juices trickling down your quivering legs. But regardless of this filth, it was all highly addictive— and the both of you would do it over and over again for as long as your bodies permitted.

“Yes… Take it…! Take it! Oh, fuuuuck...” he hissed, his fingertips sinking onto the flesh of your waist almost painfully as he aggressively pumped himself within you.

You let out a whimper, shutting your eyes tightly while clutching the pillows, feeling your walls throb around his eager cock. With a final thrust, his pelvis stilled, ropes of his virile seed spurting within your insides as your hole convulsed and clamped around him, a guttural groan rumbling from his chest.

He embraced you against his damp skin as he was milked dry before pulling out, his cloudy, viscous liquid oozing out of you slowly. The both of you collapsed on the bed, heavily panting whilst being in a completely mindless daze.

“That was…” you trailed off.

“...Amazing,” he heaved out while you weakly glanced at him, a lazy grin upon your features after hearing his response.

It was a precious moment— just you and him within your own little bubble of pure happiness, basking in the comfortable silence together as the rush from your prior activities slowly dwindled from your system. Ominis drapes his arm around you while you reciprocate his tenderness, gazing upon his baby-blue eyes with your thumb trailing along the moles on his cheek.

As you were playing with the tips of his currently disheveled blonde hair, realization soon dawned upon you— your forgotten assignments. Your once serene expression morphed into one of sheer mortification, sitting up briefly and shoving a very confused Ominis off you out of panic.

“Oh no…” you whispered.

Ominis' eyebrows furrowed, sitting up immediately upon hearing your despaired tone.

“What's wrong?”

“We were supposed to be studying, you know! My Herbology essay—”

Ominis couldn’t help but snort in response, biting his lips as he tried to suppress his laughter.

Merlin, you truly are adorable.

“Stop laughing! This is serious— an academic crisis!”

That agitated, Ravenclaw-like statement only prompted him to chortle out teasingly of pure amusement, much to your chagrin. He yanks you back into his embrace as he plops right back into bed, your head resting atop his chest. Slender fingers combed through your currently messy locks in an attempt to soothe your worries.

“Don't worry about it. I wrote out the summarized notes for you,” he chuckles. “I'm pretty sure you'll be able to finish it easily with that.”

You turned pink at this, both flustered and flattered that he would willingly go out of his way to help voluntarily.

“Thank you…” you mumbled as he gave a peck on your forehead.

Ominis hums relaxedly, his warm palm thoughtlessly placing itself on your bum, giving it a firm squeeze. Your eyes widened as you felt a certain warm appendage turn stiff, twitching slightly against your lower belly. While softly groaning your name, you were suddenly pinned right back onto the mattress, your wrists pinned at the sides of your head as he swoops down to your neck.

“W…Wait! At least let me drink the potion first!”

It was during the early hours of the morning, the enchanted window by the bed depicted the scenery of the sun almost peering out from the horizon. You had woken up hours earlier than usual to finish the remnants of your tasks while Ominis was on the bed, still sleeping soundly as you scribbled the last few words for your darn Herbology essay.

“And done!” you softly cheered, placing your quill back into its holder. You tucked the piece of parchment safely between your textbook along with Ominis’ notes gingerly, heaving a sigh of relief. Ominis was an absolute lifesaver this time, and you made a mental note to reciprocate his gesture as soon as you could.

You glanced at your slumbering lover before scampering towards the bed, placing a tiny note beside his wand.

Grabbed some food for us. I’ll be back soon. I love you.

You gave him a quick smooch on his unsuspecting cheek, adjusting the blankets slightly before creeping to the entrance of your little base. As a precautionary measure, you slowly opened the lid of the wooden chest, peering through the narrow gap.

You were about to push the lid completely wide open, only for a soft gasp of utter disbelief to escape your lips as you witness a certain Slytherin and Hufflepuff duo walk through the gold-inscribed stone wall, heading right towards the triptych.

It seems that you and Ominis weren't the only ones that had some sort of secret going on within the Undercroft after all.

“...And now, for the moment of truth…” Sebastian spoke out while Skylar mounted a piece of canvas on one of the panels. You attempted to listen more closely, only to be halted as soon as you heard the muffled calls of your name, prompting you to quickly shut the lid soundlessly, descending down to the enchanted space once again.

Ominis was sitting up groggily, his blonde hair sticking out wildly at odd places. You quietly giggled at the sight, scuttering towards the bed and sitting beside his rather adorable state.

“You're up already? Blast, I was planning to surprise you with some breakfast,” you chuckled nervously, only to be tugged back into bed by him, who was obviously still very drowsy.

“... No… Stay here with me…” he babbles. “... Need more sleep… You sleep too…”

A kiss was planted on his forehead, which caused him to grin cutely before slipping back into his dreamland within seconds. You smiled cheerfully, unclasping your shoes and letting them fall with a thump against the floor. You melded your body against him, nuzzling the crook of his neck.

But alas, you were unable to completely succumb to that pleasant state of ignorant bliss— not after you’ve witnessed two of your classmates walk through a bloody wall. The triptych, the wall, the Undercroft, a mysterious 5th year student with otherworldly magical abilities, and a young lad seeking the cure of an unknown curse— it was all a jumbled mess that even your mind was incapable of deciphering. You stared at Ominis’ peaceful face, thoughts running through your head before sighing in defeat.

“Oh well. I’ll find out about it soon enough.”

By the nameless artisan's own divine will, they have done it once again, weaving yet another fable within this realm with their own purposeful hands— a story born from an old tale that has yet to find its true ending: to end a recurring cycle of tragedy that has spanned for centuries.

< chapter 12: the art of subtlety

chapter 14: in plain sight >

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