#Emerald Star Legacy Tumblr posts

[draginhikari]

Happy to announce that my first wave of Emotes should be going Live Tomorrow. Followers will gain access to five emotes based around the five characters in my Introduction Panel including Dragin, Kari, Bianca, Aura and Vincent! Tier 1 Subs will get access to a brand new Dragin Hikari Emotes include smile, happy, laugh, shocked, annoyed, and angry.

[fairytalesandlegacies]

Trust Fall

• Author: fairytalesandlegacies • Fandom: Hogwarts Legacy • Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Reader • Warnings: 18+ Characters | NSFW | MDNI • Word Count: 23.5k

Summary:

A heady rush of defiance and determination surges through your veins, lighting up all your nerve endings like a live wire, and in your eagerness to rebel against the enchantment, you end up doing the complete opposite of Sebastian's request, hands sliding under the fabric of his cloak and slipping it off of his shoulders in one swift, fluid sweep, silk-lined wool pooling at his feet as you dive straight for his necktie, making a fine mess of the striped emerald and silver satin in your eager attempts to loosen it, fingers curling around smooth silk and giving it a gentle tug to urge him closer, unraveling until it's completely come undone, spilling into the hood of his cloak. The words kiss me ring out inside your head, desperate and longing, and for a moment, you can't tell whether it's his voice or your own imagination, caught up in a fantasy you've been playing out inside your head for the past two and a half years. Or: Sebastian Sallow teaches you how to fight against the Imperius Curse late one night, and in the process, some long-kept secrets are revealed.

✨ Read On AO3 or below the cut ✨

Trust Fall

After a whirlwind first year filled with dragon attacks and crumbling ruins, keepers and keys and hidden passageways, bonds of friendship forged in secrets and fire, daring quests and trying trials to prove your worth to wield an ancient form of magic only few can see, you should have expected your final year at Hogwarts would be anything but uneventful — and that suits you just fine.

Though, eager as you are to move beyond the confines of the castle and take the wizarding world by storm, there's a part of you that isn't quite ready to leave this place you've come to call home just yet, a part of you that's still got a few more noteworthy memories to make. Luckily for you, you've got a best friend who certainly knows how to make things memorable.

Ever since that thrilling excursion to the Restricted Section back in your fifth year, the two of you have been sneaking out of your common rooms almost nightly to go on all sorts of daredevil adventures — midnight waltzes through the Forbidden Forest in search of the legendary unicorn den, swarms of lacewing flies fluttering all around you like traces of dark magic; summer nights spent sneaking out of the sweltering confines of the castle and stealing away to the lake for a refreshing swim, diving down to its depths to see if you can catch a glimpse of a pod of mermaids or the eye of the giant squid, exploring cavernous grottos hidden beneath the waterfall, turquoise and sapphires made of pure light dancing across the surface of the water by the glow of your wands.

And of course, just last autumn, the night the two of you flew to the top of the Astronomy Tower to make wishes on a shower of shooting stars, bright sparks of silver and gold lit up in his warm brown eyes as he'd gazed up at them with a wide smile on his face and slowly counted to eighteen — one wish for each year he'd been alive. You suppose it would've been a truly breathtaking sight to behold, only you were too busy gazing at something far more beautiful, charting constellations of your own design in the sun-kissed freckles that dapple his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

Luckily, you didn't have to wait long to get your second chance, a flurry of snowflakes swirling down from the sky the night the two of you snuck back up for an encore in celebration of your birthday a few months later, green and silver scarf wrapped around both of your shoulders to keep you warm as you blew out candles lit by an overzealous Confringo cast and shared bites of a slightly lopsided cake he'd insisted on baking himself (though you suspect the only reason it was actually edible was because he'd had help from the house elves.) You never told him, but it was the best birthday you've ever had.

That's just how it was with him. Sebastian Sallow had a way of making every moment feel like an adventure.

And tonight is no exception. An owl asking you to meet him at your usual spot wakes you from your bed at a quarter 'til midnight, and the next thing you know, you're following his Disillusioned form down a candlelit corridor, traversing well-worn paths you've come to memorize like the back of your hand. You assume you're off to the Undercroft as per usual, but the longer you follow, the more it seems Sebastian has other plans (either that, or he has no idea where he's going and is simply feigning confidence — wouldn't be the first time.)

"Sebastian," you hiss, but he doesn't seem to hear you, moving ahead at the same steady pace.

You try again.

"Seb—"

"Bash—"

"Oi, Sebastard!" you call out in a series of escalating whispers, running through your rolodex of well-loved nicknames until he finally hears you, a wrinkle in the hood of his cloak catching under the candlelight as he turns his head in your direction.

"Yes, darling?" he whispers back, and you don't need to see his face to know that he's smirking underneath his cloaking charm. You're suddenly very glad for your own Disillusionment Charm — even though you know he only does it as a joke, purely to rile you up, it still makes you blush up a storm every time he calls you that. Thankfully, you have a lot of practice brushing it off.

"Did my Quaffle hit you a little harder than I thought during last week's match?" you tease, relishing every opportunity to gloat that you were the one to score the final goal and lead your team to victory. "Undercroft's the other way entirely."

"Have a little more faith in me, darling. I know exactly where we're going," he reassures you, cocky as ever. "We're simply taking the scenic route."

"I wouldn't exactly call this scenic," you snicker, casting your eyes around the bare stone walls of the corridor you're currently sneaking down.

"Are you sure about that?" he counters, throwing open the unassuming double doors at the end of the passageway with a graceful flick of his wand.

What lies beyond steals your breath away, shivers akin to a haunting melody in an empty cathedral dancing across the back of your neck as you step into a corridor bathed in glittering golds, greens, and blues, kissed by silver in the light of the full moon spilling through wall-to-wall windows, a mosaic of painted glass depicting star-strewn skies over tempestuous ocean waves, fields of wildflowers dotted between snow-capped mountains, and twisting ivy redolent of the Scottish countryside curling in curtains around a sprawling scenery of a vibrant, lush green forest.

At the very end of the hallway, you spot a familiar fixture — the Serpentine Beast Window, leading right out into the middle of the Defence Against The Dark Arts Tower. How extraordinary — a whole corridor hidden inside of a window. Nearly three years here and you're still discovering new secrets about the castle, despite all your eager exploring back when you first arrived.

"Stumbled upon this little beauty earlier today and immediately thought of you," he says softly, and then quickly clears his throat. "I mean to say, I thought you would like it. And, judging by that little dip in the outline of your cheek that can only mean you're wearing your signature dimpled smile, I'd say I was right."

You turn to face him, exchanging one beautiful scenery for another, wondering just how many of your mannerisms he's got memorized, and could know to look for even when you're nearly invisible.

"And look," he adds with a smug smile, pointing toward the little alcove with the familiar clockwork fixture sat just beneath the Defence Against The Dark Arts classroom as the two of you peer around the corner. "You see? Told you I knew exactly where I was g—"

Without warning, a bat-like figure emerges from out of the blindspot of the alcove, and the two of you immediately fall silent.

"Impertinent piece of— I know there's a secret room hidden behind here, if I could just—" Headmaster Black curses, flitting agitatedly back and forth in front of the clockwork cupboard, muttering all manner of incantations to try and figure out a way inside.

In your panic, the two of you bolt back behind the corner you've just rounded, hastily squeezing into a little recess in the wall of the corridor. You've never been the most graceful of people, tripping over your own feet and nearly falling flat on your face in your eagerness to escape, but Sebastian is well prepared for it, reaching out to steady you, grabbing ahold of your waist and pulling you into the little hideaway. Next thing you know, you're pressed right up against him, caged between the cold stained glass wall and the warm, heavy weight of his rapidly rising and falling chest, heart beating like the wings of a wild thunderbird beneath it.

You've never been this close to him before, but even though he's nearly invisible, you've all but memorized his every feature, so it's easy enough for you to map them all out — from the sharp curve of his jawline to the devil-may-care sweep of his hair, to the plush pink pout of his lower lip, and— uh oh, you're definitely staring. And maybe it's just a trick of the light, but you could almost swear he was too, that little telltale flicker as his eyes snap back up to meet yours.

Ocean blues filter through his Disillusioned form as the aquatic landscape bleeds through from behind him, making him look as though he's one with the water, moonlight dancing along the edges of his outline, igniting him in a soft silver glow. Sebastian was right, it is very beautiful in here…though you'd wager it's less to do with the colorful mosaic and entirely due to the man standing in front of you, lips a mere breath from yours, close enough to lean forward and—

Oh, you really need to sort out your priorities. If you're not careful, your less-than-pleasant headmaster will catch the two of you sneaking around past curfew, and that's worth two poltergeists on a good day. This is no time to be thinking about your best friend's lips, wondering whether they might taste like the strawberry sugar quills he'd snuck the two of you after dinner, or the spearmint toothpaste he uses every night before he goes to bed…

The sound of distant footfalls headed down the opposite corridor snaps you out of your reverie, accompanied by the dulcet tones of your irate headmaster, evidently giving up in his attempts to break past the barrier into the place that's been your refuge for the past two and a half years, until all you can hear is the sound of the Defence Tower's crackling Floo flames and the frenzied staccato of both of you trying to steady your breathing.

"I think we're safe now," you tell him, whispers disguising your breathlessness.

"Hmm?" Sebastian replies with a distracted hum, gaze snapping back up from the shape of your lips for the second time in as many minutes.

Sebastian shakes his head, and for a few nerve-wracking seconds you hold your breath in fear that he can feel the sudden jump in your pulse as he leans in even closer in an effort to peer around the corner, before giving you a quick nod of affirmation and slipping out of the passageway, taking what's left of the air in your lungs along with him. The glass wall against your back suddenly feels a lot colder without Sebastian's warm weight against your chest, and for a brief moment you wonder whether you've gone mad, wishing that Black had hovered around for just a little bit longer.

"Yes, it would appear so…for now, at least," Sebastian grouses, lips twisting into a frustrated scowl. "But if Black's been sniffing around the Undercroft, then it's only a matter of time before he works out how to get inside, and that means it's as good as lost to us as a safe haven. I'm…not sure where else we could go," he says, sounding genuinely heartbroken by the notion of having to cut this little nighttime rendezvous short.

You're about to join him in his lament, when a spectacular idea comes to you.

"Oh!" you exclaim, quickly clapping a hand over your mouth when the outline of his eyebrows shoots up in alarm.

"Sorry, got excited," you explain. Sebastian's lips quirk up in fond amusement.

"Follow me," you whisper, taking him by the hand and leading him up the staircase directly across from the hidden corridor.

"Where—" he starts, but you cut him off with a cryptic, "You'll see."

Without another word, Sebastian follows you up several flights of stairs, twists and turns leading you past Charms and up through the Astronomy Tower, sleeping portraits tutting at the two of you along the way.

"Can't believe I didn't think of it before, but, well…I've only just discovered it, and we've always had the Undercroft, so I didn't think…aha! Here we are," you whisper excitedly as the two of you round one final corner, coming to a stop between a blank stretch of stone and a tapestry of Barnabas The Barmy.

Sebastian looks at you like you've gone mad.

"Darling," he drawls, the affectionate moniker dripping with the urge to tease you senseless. "That's a bare stone wall."

"Are you sure about that?" you ask in a mimic of his playful prodding from earlier, lips quirking up in a smug smile at Sebastian's gasp of surprise as an ornate doorway bleeds into view, sprawling across the stone wall like fast-growing ivy.

With a confident smile, you breeze through the door and into a spacious moonlit room decorated in a blend of botanical greenery and gothic architecture, ceiling enchanted to reflect the world outside, sky full of stars glittering through an array of blossoming vines suspended from the illusion of a skylight.

You haven't quite finished setting everything up just yet, so it's still a little messy in some areas (a seemingly endless struggle to coax the paintings and fixtures to hang just right) but you're fairly happy with what you've done with it so far. A handsome writing desk strewn with stacks of dusty old textbooks, half-finished essays, inkwells, broken quills, and a bowl magically enchanted to fill with fresh fruit whenever you enter the room (courtesy of your friend Deek, who'd noticed you missing meals one too many times because you were too wrapped up in one of your projects, and decided to intervene) sits in one corner, while a potioneer's station with a trio of burners and a potting table with nearly-sprouted dittany and mallowsweet sits in another, a whole empty corridor just waiting to be filled with anything your heart desires (your own private library, perhaps) nestled in between.

"Is this…the Room Of Requirement?" Sebastian whispers from beside you, awestruck expression on full display now he's no longer cloaked by his Disillusionment Charm. "I thought that was just a myth."

"So did I," you chuckle, lifting your own with a casual flick of your wand. "…until a fortnight ago."

Sebastian turns to look at you, eyes narrowing.

"Hang on," he says, tone changing from fascinated to guarded in the span of a few words. "You've known about this room for two whole weeks and you haven't told me?"

You can't but feel a little pang of guilt over how hurt he sounds.

"Come now, it's not like that," you assure him, reaching out to take his hand. Despite his sudden shift in mood, he immediately takes it, fingers slipping easily between your own, sighing as you rub soothing circles along his thumb.

"Like I said, I've only just found out about it," you explain. "Professor Weasley showed it to me after I spoke to her about wishing I had a quieter place to study for my N.E.W.T.s. — suppose she took pity on me, seeing as two out of three of my only years here have been plagued by nerve-wracking exams — let me turn it into my own private study, and decorate how I please. She made me swear not to tell anyone, but…well…you're my best friend, Seb, of course I was planning on telling you. I just wanted to wait until I'd finished setting everything up first," you finish, eyes narrowing at one of the paintings above your desk set several inches above the others at an odd angle.

"You are a wonder, you know that?" Sebastian laughs, warmth flooding back into his features as he gazes down at you with a fond smile, giving the palm of your hand an affectionate squeeze. "You've got all these professors fooled into thinking you're this saintly, rule-abiding student, yet here you are, sneaking out past curfew with the school's biggest mischief-maker to learn forbidden magic in a secret room you swore you'd tell no one about. We do so adore restricted areas, don't we?"

"Forbidden magic?" you repeat, arching a curious eyebrow.

"Why do you think I invited you to meet me tonight?" he says, lips curving up in an impish grin. "I've got another spell I'd like to show you."

Your eyes light up in excitement, eager as the day he taught you Confringo.

"But first, I think you owe a tour of your secret private study, starting with…whatever those are," he says, curious gaze flitting between three magnificent archways connected by an imperial staircase just across the way, slivers of gold waltzing between the branches of two majestic oak trees twisting around the entryway of the first, a lullaby of birdsong and gentle ocean waves echoing from the bright, hazy doorway of the second, climbing vines curling like serpents around water-logged trees cloaked in mushrooms and moss, casting shadows like Celtic filigree across the marble floor as the soft silver glow of magically-conjured moonlight spills down the steps leading up to the entrance of the third.

"Oh, you mean my vivariums?" you reply with an air of feigned nonchalance, smiling at the way he gazes at them with all the wonder of a small child discovering magic for the first time. "Forest, swamp, coastal, or grasslands — where would you like to start first?"

Sebastian turns to look at you, eyebrows arched in astonishment.

"You mean to tell me there's an entire ecosystem in each one of these?" he asks.

"Well, of course," you answer. "Each beast I've rescued deserves to feel right at home, wouldn't you agree?"

"You've got magical beasts in there?" Sebastian huffs out around a disbelieving laugh.

"Would you like to meet them?" you ask, lips curling up in a bright smile.

"Would I like to— is that even a question?" he asks, jubilant.

"Please, lead the way." Sebastian sweeps into a low, theatrical bow and is nearly knocked off his feet as you eagerly tug him by the hand toward the first of four doorways, stepping from the serene moonlit study into a lush green forest teeming with birdsong and honeybees, lit by the soft golden glow of warm summer sunshine.

"—should really check on everyone anyway. I set up an automatic feeder and a toy chest in each one, but they still need to be brushed on occasion so I can collect all their feathers and fur," you ramble, but your idle chatter is lost on Sebastian as he stands there in the middle of the forest clearing, gazing awestruck at a pair of unicorns — a bright white female and her little golden foal, coats adorned with a series of swirling spirals that seem to shimmer in the sunlight — trotting toward you in the distance.

"I— I can't believe it," he breathes. "After all that time we spent searching, you finally found the unicorn den."

"Do you remember that mooncalf den we found in the middle of the Forbidden Forest that one time?" you prompt, smiling at the memory of one of your many midnight forays.

"How could I forget? The way you cooed over them. Adorable," Sebastian teases you with a fond smile.

"Fifty paces east and we would've found it," you tell him, delighting in the impressed look on his face.

"Huh," he muses softly. "All that time, we were so close. Funny how often that seems to happen."

You watch his gaze drift down to your entwined hands and settle there for a moment, heart thundering to the beat of swiftly approaching hooves. Before you can think of anything to say, you're pulled out of the intimate embrace by the arrival of your unicorns, the bright white female nearly knocking you off your feet in her enthusiasm to greet you. She nuzzles at your shoulder before shooting Sebastian a curious glance, her little foal hiding behind her. You've never brought anyone else into your vivariums before, and she has every right to be wary after everything she's been through.

"It's alright. Sebastian is safe, I promise," you assure her in a comforting whisper, reaching up to stroke along the bridge of her nose. She huffs out a breath and closes her eyes, shaking her head in an effort to get you to reach a little bit higher. After a moment's deliberation, she approaches Sebastian, bowing her head and allowing him to touch her. Sebastian shoots you a wary glance, asking your permission. You give him an encouraging nod, and slowly, carefully, he reaches up to gently stroke along the same path, letting out a delighted laugh when she huffs and nuzzles against his shoulder in turn.

"This is Hazel," you tell him with a soft smile. "A lovely woman by the name of Betty Bugbrooke bonded with her when she was just a foal, came to visit her in the forest every week. But one night, they were attacked by wolves, and Hazel ran off scared. Betty worried she might be injured, or worse— that poachers might have gotten to her. She asked if I could find her, give her a safe place to recover. It was only after I brought her here that I realized she was—"

On cue, the little golden foal takes this moment to make his grand entrance, squeezing in past his mother to head-butt Sebastian in the stomach, eager for attention.

"Oof," Sebastian laughs, raising his other hand to gently stroke the foal's mane.

"And this is Hazel's son," you chuckle, glancing back and forth between the two boys. "I haven't thought of a name for him yet — he was only just born last week. Perhaps you could help me name him?"

"You'd let me?" Sebastian asks, pleasantly surprised.

"I think it's only right. He seems to have taken quite a shine to you," you smile as the little foal head-butts Sebastian's outstretched hand.

"Either that or he thinks my fingers are carrots," Sebastian laughs.

"I don't think he's quite figured out how to work the automatic feeder just yet," you venture, glancing back at the row of little wooden crates by the entryway and making a mental note to double check you've conjured the spellcraft correctly. "Would you like to feed him while I brush Hazel?"

"Sure," he says, glancing warily at the automatic feeder, not quite sure how to use it himself. "Should I just—"

Before he can finish asking, you lift your wand and produce a fresh bag of beast feed similar to the ones you've used in class, handing it off to him before conjuring your brush and heading toward Hazel.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as Sebastian reaches into the bag and lifts a handful of food into the air, where it floats between himself and the foal, who eagerly reaches forward to chomp at the pieces. Sebastian chuckles fondly at the hungry little unicorn and sets about trying to figure out a name for him, listing a few choices out loud and asking him what he thinks of each one in turn.

"What shall we call you?" Sebastian muses, tapping a finger against his chin. "Oh, I know! How about a wood-themed name to match your mother? Let's see…how do you feel about Hawthorn?"

The golden foal snorts and shakes his head.

"Alright, I'll take that as a no," Sebastian chuckles. "Hmm…how about Rowan, then?"

The little foal stamps his front hoof in even deeper disapproval.

"Well, we can't very well call you Dogwood," Sebastian laughs.

Hazel lets out an impatient snort as she waits to be brushed, bringing your focus rather sharply back to her. You breathe out a hasty apology, but she merely gives you a look like she knows exactly why you were so distracted.

"Hush, you," you admonish her with a small smile, reaching up to brush the tangles out of her long silver-white mane.

Hazel lets out another huff like she's sighing at you, glancing over to watch Sebastian playing with her son, red-faced and laughing as the two of them chase each other across the clearing, before turning back to level you with another pointed look, nodding her head and nuzzling her nose into your shoulder, and you think it might just be the closest anyone's ever come to getting a unicorn's stamp of approval.

A little while later, the two of you are sitting at the edge of the forest by the toy box, discarded cloaks laid out underneath you like a makeshift picnic blanket, watching Hazel and newly-named Willow chasing an unpoppable bubble around the clearing, when Sebastian lets out a long, slow, contented sigh and leans his shoulder into yours.

"I have to admit, it's a wonder I've seen you at all these past two weeks," he says with a soft chuckle, gazing out onto the golden horizon, mesmerized by the way the sunlight kisses the surface of the lake. "I could easily stay like this forever."

He turns to look at you, sunlight dancing in his warm brown eyes just like the stars had that night on the Astronomy Tower.

"Here…with you."

Breath catches in the back of your throat as you look at him, eyes trailing down the curves of his freckled cheeks to land on his lips again. Here in the soft afternoon light, his freckles are more pronounced than ever, each one a kiss from the sun. You imagine him spending his summers running around outside, tearing through the countryside on all sorts of rollicking adventures, tending to the gardens and livestock in the village on his quieter days. Perhaps that's how he developed such a sturdy build, broad shoulders straining against the sleeves of his button-up, rolled halfway to his elbows, baring toned, freckled forearms that flex with each flick of his wrist as he guides the moving path of the unpoppable bubble.

You feel your body start to lean forward of its own accord, eyes fluttering closed, but manage to stop yourself before you do something monumentally stupid like kiss your best friend in the middle of a magically-conjured forest clearing.

"Ah, but then you wouldn't get to see the rest of my vivariums," you quickly recover, jolting yourself out of the moment.

"Merlin, I forgot," Sebastian shakes his head, seemingly coming out of his own little reverie. "This is just one of three."

"Four," you correct him with a small smile. "The doorway to the grasslands sits just above the entrance to the Room Of Requirement."

"I didn't even notice," Sebastian marvels. "I was so preoccupied with the three right in front of me."

You slowly get to your feet, dusting grass off the edge of your skirt.

"Well then, are you ready to see the next one?" you ask, holding out your hand.

"Absolutely," he says, taking your offered hand, though he does most of the heavy lifting as you help him to his feet. You expect him to let go once he's standing, but he only holds on tighter, slipping his fingers back in between yours. You can't help the rush of warmth that surges through you at the contact.

"Shall we take the scenic route?" you ask, inclining your head toward the darkened forest just ahead.

"Is there any other way to travel?" Sebastian quips back, eagerly following at your side.

Jobberknolls and fwoopers fly overhead, weaving between the autumn-kissed treetops as the two of you make your way through the thicket, while kneazles chase rolling puffskeins through the leaf-strewn undergrowth. As the two of you trudge along, the forest itself grows darker and darker, fading from the warmth of a golden summer's day into a misty moonlit night, the ground beneath your boots becoming steadily more uneven and unforgiving, solid dirt and gnarled tree roots giving way to soft, muddy earth dotted with moss and mushrooms, puddles of water stretching between patches of grass and tall, swaying cattails, until you reach the very edge of the forest, opening out onto the swamplands.

Sebastian lets out a sharp gasp, faltering for a moment when he sees two skeletal, horse-like creatures with wingspans the size of a Hebridean Black swoop down from the night sky to land at the edge of the forest, one pitch black like the sky above, one as bright as the moon.

"You have thestrals?" he whispers, equal parts amazed and apprehensive.

"There's a den just north of here," you tell him, giving the palm of his hand a reassuring squeeze. "Absolutely riddled with poachers, last time I checked. It's not safe for them out there anymore, at least not at the moment. So, Deek asked me to rescue a mated pair."

"Deek," Sebastian repeats, the name somewhat familiar. "That's that house elf that's friendly with Professor Weasley, right?"

"The very same," you reply with a small smile. "He's the one who helped me set up my study, in fact; encouraged me to rescue as many creatures as I could, give them a safe place free from the threat of poachers."

"Which is how you ended up with a mated pair of thestrals," Sebastian concludes, sounding both amused and impressed.

"Gomez and Morticia," you answer with a cheerful nod.

Sebastian glances at you, one eyebrow arched in amusement.

"It's what I've taken to calling them," you say with a small shrug. "Suits them, don't you think?"

Sebastian watches the pair of bad omens curl up together under the shade of a weeping willow, Gomez stretching out his wings to wrap around Morticia's shoulders like a protective shield, before leaning forward to nuzzle his nose against hers.

"It certainly does," Sebastian replies with a soft smile.

He turns back to look at you, teasing grin returning in full. "Came up with names for all of them, have you?"

"Of course," you reply with a jovial smile. "It would get awfully confusing if I didn't, especially with an entire herd of— aha! There they are, right on cue."

One by one, all seven of your mooncalves emerge into the clearing, moonlight dancing in their big, bright blue eyes, webbed feet splashing through muddy puddles as they all come hurdling toward you, jumping up and down, enveloping you in a cuddly circle. You greet them all by name — Millie, Mooncake, Marzipan, Vanilla Bean, Snickerdoodle, Pancake, and Jellybean — giggling and cooing over them as you ask each one how they've been, who's hungry, and who needs to be brushed.

Too wrapped up in your little herd to notice the way Sebastian's lips curl up in a soft, smitten smile as he watches you, heart fluttering inside his chest at how utterly adorable you are, how big and pure your heart is. Of course you'd have a whole herd of them. He shouldn't have expected anything less.

"Where on earth did you find them all?" he asks, huffing out a laugh as one of the braver ones comes sniffing around his ankles, peering up at him expectantly.

"Poacher camps," you explain, upper lip curling in a scowl. "Every so often, I'll come across an encampment near their den in the forest, catch them before they manage to steal away with their quarry. They mostly use cages with level one locks, so they're easy enough to pick while their backs are turned, but it's not exactly the quickest process. So far, I've only been caught twice. Managed to duel my way out of trouble without too much fuss — nothing a vial or two of Wiggenweld couldn't patch up — and more importantly, without any mooncalves getting hurt in the process. Poachers scare pretty easily when they find out a student knows Confringo — thanks for that, by the way."

You look up from your little herd of mooncalves to find Sebastian staring at you in astonishment, mouth hanging open like you've just revealed some grand secret double-life, so distracted he doesn't even notice the muddy paw prints saturating the knees of his trousers as Jellybean jumps up to nose at his pocket, searching for treats.

"You—" he falters, breath coming out in a disbelieving laugh. "You're amazing, you know that? I wondered where you'd been disappearing off to whenever you weren't with me. Speaking of which…I'd like to come with you next time, if you'll have me. Help you fight the baddies, keep these little ones safe," he says, leaning down to stroke the top of Jellybean's head and letting out a contented hum when she closes her eyes and makes a high-pitched squeaking sound.

"I take back every time I've ever teased you for going soft over these little gremlins. I can see now why you like them so much," he relents, chuckling as Jellybean purrs and nuzzles her head against the palm of his hand, eager for more scritches.

"Aren't they wonderful? They're so sweet and soft and silly," you laugh as you watch a trio of little ones chasing after a tiny floating moon conjured from the toy box with all the fondness in the world. "Oh, I just love them so much."

"Is that what it takes to earn your love? I'm at least one out of three of those things," Sebastian chuckles under his breath, eyes growing wide the moment he realizes he's just said that out loud.

"Sorry, didn't quite catch that," you say, struggling to hear anything over the sound of Snickerdoodle happily crunching away as you feed him a handful of treats.

"Nothing," Sebastian lies, summoning a handful of beast feed from out of your bag with a flick of his wand. "I was just asking Jellybean here if she was hungry."

At the mention of food, all seven of your mooncalves come gallivanting up to surround you both, floating toy moon immediately forgotten.

"Alright, easy there, I promise I won't let anyone go hungry," Sebastian reassures them, laughing as their little pink tongues poke out to tickle the palm of his hand. There's no Hazel to tease you this time as you stand there, rooted to the spot as though you've just been Stunned, one breath away from sighing like a lovesick damsel as you watch Sebastian dote on your mooncalves, heart threatening to burst with the overwhelming love it carries.

You wait until the very last mooncalf has huddled in with the rest of their herd and laid their head down in the tall, swaying grasses to drift off to sleep, fur brushed and bellies full, before making your way to the next vivarium. Together, the two of you wade through knee-deep swamp water littered with lily pads and lotus flowers, cloaks soaked and caked in mud and moss, until you reach the mouth of a darkened cave, shards of moonstone jutting from floor to ceiling like rows of shark's teeth.

Led by the glow of your wands, the two of you carefully make your way through the cavernous passageway, a kaleidoscope of colors bursting across the walls each time your light shines through a cluster of crystals, until eventually, the light at the end grows bright enough to outshine even the strongest of light spells, a symphony of crickets and tree frogs and echoes of dripping stalactites giving way to the soft cries of seagulls and gentle ocean waves, moss giving way to seaweed, until the muddied puddles of the swamp meet little whirlpools of sea water.

Together, the two of you step out into a bright, hazy world lit by golden sunlight streaming through fluffy white clouds stretched across a brilliant blue sky, ocean waves crashing against massive weather-worn rocks surrounding you on all sides.

After thestrals and unicorns, Sebastian really shouldn't be surprised to learn that you have hippogriffs too, but he gasps in disbelief all the same when two of them come swooping down from the sky to land right in front of you, eager to be brushed and fed.

They're wary at first, only used to you, Natty, and Poppy from your daring rescue weekend last, watching Sebastian with a kind of cautious curiosity as he dips into a low bow, warm brown eyes fixed first to Highwing's golden gaze, and then Caligo's piercing bright blue. After a moment, the two of them bow their heads, allowing Sebastian to come stand beside you and brush them, Caligo affectionately nipping at the hood of Sebastian's cloak when he sneaks him a few extra treats from your bag of beast feed.

"Keep that up, and I bet he'll let you ride him in no time," you chuckle, plucking another loose feather from Highwing's bright white plumage and stowing it in the pocket of your cloak.

Sebastian turns to look at you, eyes wide with excitement.

Your lips quirk up in a smug smile.

"There's nothing quite like the view of the castle grounds from the back of a hippogriff," you sigh, mischief dancing in your eyes as you cast him a playful grin. "Want to see for yourself sometime?"

"Do you even have to ask?" Sebastian quips back, lips pulling up into a brilliant smile.

"Is it just the two of them in here, or are there any other surprises I should know ab—" Sebastian barks out a startled laugh as a bright white diricawl bursts into existence right beside him.

"Oh, hullo Gwyneira, nice of you to join us," you chuckle as the squat little bird marches up to the automatic feeder, bobbing and weaving without a trace of fear between the hippogriffs' taloned feet, and steals three helpings' worth of food before disappearing again with an audible pop.

You didn't think Sebastian's face had room for any more freckles, but after a long stretch of sitting at the edge of the beach, dark gray trousers rolled up to his knees, wool socks and worn leather boots discarded in favor of dipping his toes into the sand, tempting the water to come up and kiss the soles of his feet, you're proven quite wrong, a ruddy hue settling into the hollows of his cheeks as he squints against the blinding sunlight and watches in fascination as Caligo and Highwing take to the skies.

Eager to see where they're off to, the two of you make your way a little further east, where a large formation of rocks leads up a steep cliffside covered in a thick coat of lush greenery, cracked and crumbling steps ascending to the ruins of an old castle. It's a bit of a climb that's hell on both your knees, but the view at the top is well worth it, sunlight spilling over a landscape that seems to exist forever in the golden hour, rolling grasslands teeming with billywigs and honeybees buzzing about a colorful sweep of wildflowers, surrounded on all sides by majestic, snowcapped mountains.

Sebastian gazes out onto the horizon, elbows resting against the edge of the wooden guardrail fencing in the highest outlook of the clearing, mesmerized by the way the sunlight hits the glittering golds of Highwing's feathers and the cool blues of Caligo's as the two of them soar across the mountain range, when a flash of bright red wings swoops by overheard, wind curling its fingers through his hair.

"Is that— oh, there's no way," Sebastian gasps in unbridled excitement.

"Oh, did I forget to mention I have a phoenix?" you reply cooly, though your proud, beaming smile gives you away.

"Incredible," he says, a little breathless as he watches the legendary bird soar across the mountainous landscape. "Absolutely incredible."

He turns to look at you, sunlight catching against the back of his frame and igniting him in a soft golden glow, fixing you with a smile that's somehow even softer as he adds, "Every time I think I've seen everything, you always find a way to surprise me."

Sunlight spills across his features as he holds your gaze, kissing brand new freckles into the curves of his cheeks and the bow of his lips, and in that moment you've never been more jealous of the sun, longing to follow in its lead.

You're shaken out of the moment by a series of curious squeaks and whines, turning in time to see a family of nifflers eagerly waddling up the path toward you, keen to sniff you out and see if you've got anything valuable to nick. You introduce Sebastian to the felonious foursome — the infamous Irondale Pilferer, Calamity, his partner in crime, and their newborn twins, Mischief and Rascal. Sebastian greets them with a friendly smile, crouching down to tickle Mischief's belly and laughing when a handful of coins comes spilling out of her pouch. You tell him he's more than welcome to pocket them…if he can manage to keep them out of her brother's clutches.

Sebastian lets out a deep, contented sigh as he gazes out into the distance, watching as the sun slowly starts to slip beneath the mountains, bathing the clearing in hazy shades of citrus and rose.

"Blimey, how long have we been in here?" he laughs, glancing down at the edges of his nearly-dried cloak. "It feels so real in here, I'd honestly forgotten we're still in a room inside the castle, and haven't just traversed the whole of the highlands in the span of— what, a couple of hours? This place feels never-ending, it'll be a wonder if we ever manage to find our way back."

He glances over at you suddenly, a worried crease settling into his brow.

"Do you know the way back, or do we just live here now?" he asks, huffing out a nervous laugh.

"Come along, lost boy. Let's get you home," you tease, fixing him with a fond smile as you take him by the hand and lead him down a curved, winding pathway that twists around the cliff face of the clearing, tall grasses and fragrant wildflowers weaving between the pickets of the worn wooden guardrail, down down down until you reach a magnificent waterfall spilling out into a vast, glittering lake on the periphery of a familiar terrain.

As you climb down the last moss-covered boulder and make your way across the clearing, you spot Hazel curled up around her little foal, the two of them softly dozing under the shade of an oak tree, gentle sunlight spilling through its branches in a lazy waltz across the lush green grass.

Hand in hand, the two of you step back through the doorway opposite the edge of the forest, and into the heart of your starlit study.

Sebastian shakes his head like he's coming out of a trance, glancing back toward the sunlit doorway to double check it hadn't all just been a dream.

"An entire world — sorry, four entire worlds — existing inside a single room in the castle?" he marvels, breathless laughter rushing out of him as he glances around the study. "And you managed to set all this up in just two weeks?"

"Well, I had a lot of help," you're quick to assure him, not wanting to take all the credit. "From Deek and the room itself."

"But you're the one rescued all those creatures, and you chose all the decor, didn't you?" he insists, playfully knocking his shoulder against yours.

"I suppose that's true…" you relent, lips curving up in a proud smile as you glance around the room, sleek mahogany bookshelves lining nearly every wall, just waiting to be filled with all your favorites, moonlit sky casting shadows on the polished marble floor through the twisting greenery adorning the skylight up above.

"It's magnificent, by the way…your private study," he tells you, voice soft and low as he turns back to look at you.

"Our private study now, if you'd like," you correct him, mesmerized by the way the moonlight dances in his eyes.

"A secret room that's just ours alone? Oh, I like the sound of that very much," he says, voice close to a whisper now as he keeps his steady gaze fixed on yours.

It's easier to catch this time, now you're no longer under the spell of a Disillusionment Charm, the way his eyes trail down to your lips and linger there, just for a moment. Your tongue darts out to swipe across your bottom lip in instinctual anticipation, and you could almost swear you hear his breath hitch, hand gripping yours a little tighter.

And oh, you're going to do something very stupid if you don't snap yourself out of this right now.

"So," you prompt, embarrassed by how breathless you sound. "You promised to show me something forbidden tonight?"

Sebastian blinks, eyebrows jumping to his hairline.

"What?" he blurts out, half shocked disbelief, half breathless laughter.

Ah. You just clocked the way that sounded. Brilliant subject change. Spectacular choice of wording right there.

"You— you said you had a spell you wanted to show me?" you clarify, cheeks burning at the eager look in his eyes.

"Oh," Sebastian breathes, shoulders sagging a little. He shakes his head to try and clear it.

"Right, we should—" he falters, suddenly nervous, hand slipping out of yours as he makes his way into the middle of the study. (You try very hard not to mourn the loss, the space between your fingers a little too empty without his to fit perfectly between them.)

The look he gives you as he stands opposite you is apprehensive, posture worse than usual as he ducks his head down in an effort to appear smaller.

"So…" he starts, lips pulling up in a wincing smile. "I trust you remember a little spell called…" he swallows. "…the Imperius Curse?"

All the air rushes out of the room like a Dementor's kiss, fear lancing through you like slivers of ice, leaving pins and needles in its wake.

It's been over a year since the catacombs. You thought he'd put all that behind him.

"Sebastian…" you say his name like a warning.

Sebastian puts his hands up in surrender.

"Allow me to explain," he says softly. "Please."

You purse your lips, eyes narrowed. After a moment's deliberation, you let out a sharp sigh and give him an impatient look, your silence giving him permission to continue.

Sebastian breathes a sigh of relief and nods in gratitude.

"Okay, so…hear me out," he starts. "You and I have both known what we wanted to do since the end of our fifth year, yeah? But getting Outstandings in our O.W.L.s is only the beginning. If we're to have even a shot at surviving life as Curse-Breakers, then we need to be prepared for what's out there."

"Even— no, especially— all the things the school deems too dangerous for us to even know about. Honestly, what's the use in Defence Against The Dark Arts if they're not going to teach us how to properly defend ourselves against the Dark Arts?" Sebastian scoffs, rolling his eyes as he riles himself up over his longstanding disdain for the curriculum.

Your lips twitch into a small smile in spite of yourself.

Sebastian shakes his head and lets out a wearying sigh, reeling himself back in, gaze softening as he turns back to look at you.

"Listen, I know you didn't want to learn it last time…but this time, I really think you should," he insists, solemn conviction laced with an undercurrent of soft, desperate pleading. "Not for the purpose of using it on anyone, but so you can understand how it works, the kind of power that comes with wielding it, and most importantly, how to fight against it, so that if anyone is ever fool enough to cast it on you, you won't be so easily subject to their whims."

A shudder runs through the both of you at the very thought, Sebastian bristling with a kind of fierce protectiveness you've only ever seen him display for a few choice souls — his twin sister, his oldest friend, and you.

"And the other two curses?" you ask tentatively, voice low and quiet as your vision swirls with sparks of acid green and crackling carmine, a phantom burst of pain unlike anything else in this world rippling across your abdomen as the memory of cold stone beneath your hands and knees overwhelms you. "Would you have me fight against those, too?"

"No!" Sebastian says a little too sharply, terror flashing in his eyes.

He takes a deep breath, grounding himself.

"The only one I feel even remotely comfortable casting on one another is the Imperius Curse. In the right hands, it's the only one that isn't inexorably harmful…the only one anyone's ever been able to fight against. With the other two, it's really just a matter of…of dodging it," he swallows thickly, a flash of guilt tightening his jaw. "Or…or enduring it."

Sebastian's expression darkens and you know he's thinking back to the Scriptorium again, his reaction so raw and visceral it's as though you're back on a different stone floor, tears drenching the hood of your cloak as he'd clung to you, shoulders shaking in violent, body-wracking sobs.

It's not as though he's made peace with what happened with his uncle, or that he feels more remorse for one grievance over the other. You suppose it's just a little easier to contend with your past mistakes, to quiet the voices of all the people you've wronged, when you don't have to look one of them in the eye every day…when they've been nothing but kind and loyal to you, and all you did in return was repeatedly let them down.

And you know, because he's told you countless times now, that there isn't a single day that goes by where he doesn't wish it'd been him instead, that he should've fought harder against your refusal to cast it on him. But that's an empty regret, because even if you had to go back and do it all over again, you still never would have let him be the one to take it.

"I'll never cast that spell on you ever again," he says, broken, choking. "Once was already too much. I'm so—"

"I know you are," you tell him softly, the same words you've repeated countless times since that quiet little moment in the Undercroft at the end of your fifth year.

You'd kept in touch over the summer, too eager to hear from him to follow through on any half-baked notions of needing space. And a good thing, too — Sebastian, it seemed, was just as keen to hear from you in return. He'd written dozens of letters — two, three, four, sometimes five times a week, if his owl was feeling up to it (though according to one of his letters, she'd start biting his fingers if he ever reached for his quill a sixth time in the span of a single week.)

He never veered toward the topic of your magic or what happened down in the catacombs, content to talk at length about the mundanities of your day instead, asking after your fancy new life in London living all on your own in the flat Fig had left you in his will, commiserating over the hardships of settling a late loved one's affairs. He never seemed bored in the slightest, even when you felt you were droning on about nothing, always happy to hear what you've been up to, even on the days you never left the house. To Sebastian, it seemed no subject could be exhausted, especially when it came to you.

In each new letter, he'd oh-so-casually ask about one of your favorite things, from sweets to flowers to the muggle authors you'd grown up reading, and every week, you'd find a little hand-wrapped parcel among his many letters — a box of sugar quills or a chocolate frog he'd picked up in Hogsmeade the weekend before, a bright blue jobberknoll feather he'd found at a nearby den and fashioned into a quill, fresh honeysuckles and hyacinths from his neighbor's garden pressed between the pages of a quote he'd scribbled down from one of your favorite books, along with an essay on why he liked it.

He'd been keen to keep you up-to-date on how he'd been faring too, eager to keep busy and make himself useful, helping his neighbors with various errands and tasks they might need done, tending to livestock and community gardens, helping to fix up the hamlet in the wake of loyalist destruction. He spoke like he was desperate to prove himself, prove he was keeping his word. A few times, you couldn't help but giggle at the way he sounded like an overzealous��suitor trying to woo his intended, keen to sell up his accomplishments.

At first, you'd thought it was simply because he was lonely, that you were his only correspondent, but then Ominis finally broke his silence in July (insisting in his letters to you that given the choice between his family's company and Sebastian's, he supposed he'd rather tolerate the latter, and not because he missed the impish bastard, or anything — his words) followed by a tentative hope you're well from Anne in August. Though she hadn't quite been ready to forgive him back then, Anne was still anxious to know how her brother was faring, not-so-subtly asking if you'd heard from him in her owls to you, and, according to Anne's letters, getting an earful from one of her former neighbors.

After Anne left Feldcroft, she'd kept in touch with one of the neighbors she'd always been closest to — a kindly old woman who used to send over home-cooked stews when Anne and Sebastian first arrived on Solomon's doorstep, and who'd apparently been singing Sebastian's praises all summer for all the hard work that nice young man had been doing to help cut back on the gnome infestation threatening to overtake her rose garden.

Evidently, there were only so many times Anne could bear to hear about that poor boy's crumpled face every time the old woman mentioned Anne's name in passing, how sweet it was that he missed his twin, but wished her luck in her travels as she took a much-needed respite to mourn the loss of their uncle, opting to stay behind and look after the estate, that she'd finally broken and decided to send him a letter. Just one line — hope you're well — but to Sebastian, it was everything.

And yet, the frequency with which he wrote to you never wavered. If anything, it'd given him even more to talk about.

You remember how excited he'd been for term to start back up again — it was all the two of you seemed to be able to talk about in the days leading up to September. You'd grown so used to his presence, even if it was only through letters, that the stroll through Diagon Alley felt rather lonely without him, as did the train ride from King's Cross (though an afternoon of stories, snacks, and Exploding Snap with Ominis, Poppy, Natty, Garreth, and Amit certainly made for a lovely journey through the countryside) but seeing as he could easily get all his supplies in Hogsmeade and simply use the Floo Network to travel to the castle, it seemed rather silly to invite him to come all the way to London, just to go all the way back.

You remember the way the floor fell out from underneath you the first time you saw him again — teeth as white as a Patronus Charm against the sun-kissed glow of his skin, an impossible surplus of freckles scattered across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, spilling into the curves of his dimples as his lips pulled up into a bright smile, warm brown eyes lit up like afternoon sunlight across the forest floor, somehow even taller and stronger than he'd been only a few months prior as he'd rushed toward you and lifted you off your feet in a dizzying hug, shivers dancing down your spine as he'd buried his face into the crook of your neck and whispered, "Merlin, I've missed you."

By then, you'd finally begun to admit to yourself that maybe, quite possibly, you might have developed something of a small crush on your closest friend. This moment clearly endeavored to whack you round the back of the head with it.

Laughter caught like honey in the back of your throat as you'd pulled back to look at him, cheeks burning like you'd just hugged a living Confringo blast, and said, "Thought you'd be sick of me by now. We only wrote each other every day."

But Sebastian's sincerity only grew stronger.

"Never. Much as I looked forward to your letters, it's not the same as getting to see you in person. Merlin, can't believe it's been almost three months since I last saw you. You look—"

Sebastian paused, eyes lingering on the silken spill of your hair as it cascaded down your shoulders, longer now and out of its usual braid, the healthy glow that had blossomed across your cheeks from all those downtown strolls in the warm summer sun, same bright eyes, same soft smile you always seemed to reserve just for him.

"I sure hope the end of that sentence is good," you'd teased in the wake of the silence that stretched between you, momentarily worried you had some leftover pumpkin pasty on your face, or forgotten to repair a singe in your cloak.

But then Sebastian had let out the softest laugh, ducking his head in a sheepish grin and peering up at you through his lashes. And Merlin, how your heart raced.

"That's one word for it. Good. You look good," he said softly.

He looked at you for a moment longer, lips pulling up into a soft — dare you call it adoring — smile. And then he shook his head, and in the next instant it was gone, replaced by something sharper, cheekier.

"Though it appears you've somehow gotten even shorter since the last time I saw you," he added in a teasing lilt, lifting his arm and settling it atop your head as though you were a particularly moody armrest.

"Or you just shot up over the summer, you bloody tree," you'd quipped, wriggling out from under his arm, only for it to fall around your shoulders and stay there until they called for everyone to take their seats for the start of term feast.

Sebastian's laughter lanced through you like a bolt of lightning, and you spent far more time than you'd care to admit lying awake later that night wondering whether he'd planned it.

The next morning, you awoke to find him waiting for you bright and early outside of your common room, in the midst of a heated debate with the eagle doorknocker over the answer to the riddle when is a door not a door?

"When it's ajar," you'd answered as you stepped out into the corridor, eagerly accepting the freshly-baked croissant held out in his hand.

"That's—" Sebastian blurted out, flustered. "How is that more of a correct answer than a portrait? Ever heard of the Fat Lady? The painting of the ticklish pear? The doorways to both the kitchen and the Gryffindor common room are literally hidden behind a portrait. So technically, my answer was correct."

You'd never seen a doorknocker look so exhausted.

"Does this little serpent belong to you?" the bronze eagle asked you as it cast a wearying glance at Sebastian.

Now that's one hell of a riddle.

"I— yes. He's with me. Sorry," you answered quickly, turning on your heel and steering Sebastian down the corridor before the doorknocker decided to exact vengeance by locking you out of your common room later that night.

You glanced over at the serpent in question, shit-eating grin spread across his ruddy cheeks.

"Sebastian," you prompted as you took in the sight of him, out of breath as he greeted you with a cheeky hello you. "Do you know how many staircases it takes to get from Slytherin Dungeon to Ravenclaw Tower?"

"Oh bloody hell, not another riddle," Sebastian groaned.

"Seventeen," you replied, cheeks aching from the effort of trying not to laugh. "Seventeen staircases. And you climbed all of them this morning just to…what, argue the merits of what makes for a good riddle with my house's doorknocker? You do know I could've just met you in the Great Hall, right? You didn't have to go to all the trouble."

The redness in the hollows of his cheeks spread like wildfire across the bridge of his nose, nearly drowning out the smattering of freckles there.

"Well yeah, I could've just waited downstairs," he brushed it off with false bravado. "But I figured it's only right I escort my charge to her first day of classes. It is a special occasion, after all."

"Is it, now?" you asked, smile growing even wider.

"It is," he quipped. "Did you know it's officially been one whole year since the day we met?" he asked, puffing out his chest with a kind of pride that made your stomach swoop like you just fell through the vanishing step in the grand staircase.

"You mean since I knocked you on your arse?" you teased around a mouthful of warm flaky pastry and rich chocolate.

Sebastian pouted at you and made a grab to take back his croissant, barking out a laugh when you shrieked and proceeded to shove the entire thing into your mouth.

"The very picture of grace," he'd mused, smile fit to bursting as you stuck your tongue out at him.

"Speaking of which," he added, smile turning sly. "I think it's high time we had a rematch, wouldn't you?"

"Eager to make losing to me a yearly tradition?" you smirked.

"You wish," he snorted, smile fond as he rolled his eyes. "Meet me in the Undercroft after your last class, and we'll set the record back to rights."

"I look forward to sweeping you off your feet again," you countered with a playful smile.

Sebastian's eyebrows drew up the slightest fraction, lips pulling into a soft, amused smile as he let out a sound that was half hum, half laughter.

"Here's hoping one of these days I can manage to do the same," he'd mused, all the air rushing out of your lungs in a single breath as he took a step closer and reached out to swipe his thumb across your lower lip.

You had half a mind to wonder whether the duel had begun early, whether he'd been practicing wandless, nonverbal spells over the summer, and had struck you unawares with a combination of ice and fire charms, heart pounding in your chest as you watched his tongue dart out to lick a dab of melted chocolate off the edge of his thumb, darkened gaze locked on yours the whole time.

"See you then," he said, the low hum of his laughter stirring something that felt an awful lot like wings in the pit of your stomach, threatening to burst out of you and chase him down the corridor as you watched him walk away.

It took you five whole minutes to find your way to your first class, despite the fact that he'd literally walked you to the door.

You were still in a bit of a daze when you'd strolled through the sliding gate several hours later, hair wild from a particularly humid session in Potions brewing your first-ever N.E.W.T. level Draught Of Living Death, a streak of dirt on your nose from wrangling a screaming mandrake into a fresh pot of soil in Herbology — at least, that's the excuse you'd told yourself when Sebastian caught you off guard in the middle of your rematch, knocking you off your feet with a well-timed Depulso that had absolutely nothing to do with the way his forearms flexed beneath his rolled-up sleeves.

The spell hit you directly in the stomach and had you gasping like you'd just been struck by a charging graphorn. You vaguely registered the clattering of a dropped wand against worn stone, and in the next moment, Sebastian was on his knees beside you, hands reaching out reflexively and then faltering in midair, like he wasn't sure what to do, whether he was allowed to touch you.

You'd laughed it off, relieved for that first rush of air back into your lungs, head swiveling to where he kneeled beside you, preparing to see a sheepish grin, a wincing apology made less effective by a triumphant, gloating smirk, but all you saw when you looked into the eyes of your best friend was sheer terror, and you knew in an instant where his mind had gone.

Sebastian's gaze flitted between your eyes and the place you'd been hit — the very same spot his Cruciatus Curse had struck you less than a year prior.

"Oh Sebastian, it's okay," you reassured him, wincing at the slight wheeze to your voice. "I'm fine, see? It wasn't anything like—"

Sebastian's lower lip trembled, and in the next moment you'd been pulled into a tight embrace, shaking in his arms as seismic sobs wracked his entire body, an endless chorus of I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please forgive me spilling from his lips.

You'd held him back just as tight, assuring him between gentle strokes of his hair that you'd long forgiven him, that you knew he didn't have a choice.

"But I did have a choice," he argued, pulling back to fix you with a red-rimmed scowl. "I led you down there. I insisted. I'm the one who got us into that impossible situation in the first place. I made so many terrible choices, and all that time I let myself believe it was worth it because I thought I was doing the right thing. But in the end, all I did was hurt the people I—" he faltered, swallowing around a sharp burst of nerves that only had half to do with the guilt welling up inside him.

"I've had all summer to relive what I did to you…to everyone," he whispered softly, haunted by ghosts both living and dead as he'd looked into your eyes.

It's the same way he looks at you now, desperate and pleading for forgiveness you've already granted him, absolution he still won't allow himself.

You know how much he regrets it, how deeply it haunts him, even now. You know he's changed, learned from his past mistakes, determined never to repeat them. You know you can trust him. So if Sebastian wants you to learn one of the Unforgivable Curses, then you have to trust that it must be for good reason.

"So you're telling me it's actually possible to fight against the Imperius Curse?" you ask, still wary, but, you'll begrudgingly admit, curiosity effectively piqued. "How in Merlin's name did you ever learn how to do that?"

Sebastian lets out a breath he'd likely been holding that entire time, some of the tension unraveling from his shoulders as his lips pull into a smile like he's relieved you're still standing here with him, eager to share in something new he's learned like it's just another trip to the Restricted Section.

"Well, as you may have noticed, our dear friend Ominis is not exactly thrilled about our choice of career," Sebastian starts, and you can't help the small smile that curls across your lips as a litany of passive aggressive comments about how he'd better not see the two of you anywhere near the Janus Thickey Ward when he starts his residency in June, comes flooding into your memory. Sebastian clocks your smile and his lips twitch into one of his own.

"Keeps lamenting about how he wishes we'd choose something less dangerous," he adds, rolling his eyes in a show of fond amusement. "But that if we absolutely must, then he'd rather we go in fully prepared for what's out there. I'd assumed he was just going to help us practice a few defensive spells, offer to teach us some of the healing charms he's been learning shadowing Nurse Blainey. Imagine my surprise when Ominis Gaunt, self-proclaimed opposer of anything to do with the Dark Arts, offers to teach me the ins and outs of the Imperius Curse."

That certainly does surprise you, helping to put whatever remains of your unsettled nerves at ease. You know Ominis would never agree, let alone be the one to suggest practicing dark magic unless he truly felt it would be beneficial, unless he truly believed Sebastian could be trusted with such a thing.

"We've been practicing nearly every night in the Undercroft for the past several weeks," Sebastian goes on to explain. "I'd have told you sooner, but I didn't want to risk subjecting you to such a spell until I'd grown comfortable using it myself, fighting against its effects. Now that I have…would you like to see how it's done?"

A frisson runs down your spine, and you're not entirely sure whether it's thrill, fear, or some strange combination of the two. You swallow, only trusting yourself to nod.

"Alright then, draw your wand," he instructs, taking a few tentative steps closer until he's standing right behind you, gentle hands wrapping around the wrist of your dominant hand and bringing it into the air alongside his own.

"We'll begin with the wand movements so you can establish muscle memory," he says, warm breath ghosting across the back of your neck as he speaks in a low, soothing voice, sending shivers that have nothing to do with the forbidden magic you're about to perform racing down the length of your spine.

Together, you aim for the opposite wall, following his directions as he speaks them aloud. Arc up…left…up at a sharp diagonal to the right…and then straight back down in a figure four.

After you've completed your first circuit, Sebastian takes a step back and allows you to practice a few more times on your own, making sure you've got the movements just right.

"Good," he says, sounding impressed, but not altogether surprised. "Perfect form, in fact."

You can't help the automatic smile that curves across your lips at his praise.

"Now to put it into practice," he prompts, drawing his own wand from the inside pocket of his cloak and turning round to face you.

"Do you trust me?" he asks softly, fixing you with a serious, almost pleading look, like if you answer no it's as good as casting Crucio.

"You know I do," you answer automatically. Because even though you're still a little nervous at the prospect of delving into darker forms of magic, there's no one you'd rather learn it from.

Sebastian's eyes crinkle in a grateful smile, before quickly shifting back to something more serious.

"Alright then," he says, taking a deep, steadying breath. "Prepare yourself, I'm going to cast it on you."

"I'm ready," you tell him, standing with your spine a little straighter, wand at your side.

"Imperio," he intones, wand flicking through the air in the pattern he'd just taught you.

The effect is instantaneous, a serene sort of blankness settling over your mind like you're floating through the clouds, a comfortable warmth akin to dozing off in front of the fireplace spreading throughout your entire body. Then, clear as a bell, you hear Sebastian's voice ring out inside your head, instructing you to walk over to your desk and bring him back an apple from the bowl set atop. Without even questioning it, you do so, legs moving of their own accord.

"Finite," he says as you come to a sudden stop in front of him, a bright red honeycrisp apple held out in offering in the palm of your hand. The floating high disappears instantly, leaving you feeling out of sorts, a little dazed as you stare down at the apple, almost as if you'd dreamed you'd gone to fetch it.

"How are you feeling? Are you alright?" he asks, checking you over like he's the one preparing for a Healer's career. "It can be a little overwhelming when you first experience it. Part of why I asked you to bring that," he adds, pointing down at the apple. "The sugars will help you recover."

Sebastian's always had a bit of a sweet tooth, but the sudden uptick in the sheer amount of sugar quills you'd seen stuck between his teeth as of late suddenly makes a lot more sense. Slowly, as though testing the bounds of being back in control of your own limbs, you lift the apple to your lips and take a small bite, mulling over his question.

"It was…strange," you decide, aware that's the biggest understatement of the century. "I know I should've been scared, but instead I felt oddly serene."

"That's what it does to you," Sebastian nods solemnly. "Lulls you into a false sense of security. Tricks your mind into complacency, like you're merely a vessel and someone else is steering the ship."

"I can see how it earned the name unforgivable," you agree with a grimace. "I reckon the only reason I'm not nearly as unnerved as I should be right now is because I knew you were the one casting it."

"That's exactly why I wanted to be the one to teach you," he says with renewed conviction. "In order to learn how to defend ourselves against it, it's important to practice with someone we trust."

"Which is why," he adds with a wry chuckle. "You're going to be the one casting it on me next."

Your lips part in surprise. Even though you knew it was coming, it still catches you off guard.

"Are— are you sure?" you ask warily.

"Course I am," he reassures you with a confident grin. "As I said, it's important to know what it feels like from both sides, understand the kind of power you wield."

You stare at him for a moment, mulling it over, and then give him a curt nod, taking a few steps back to allow enough room for a safe cast.

"Remember, you have to mean it," he reminds you, stowing his wand in his pocket and standing in front of you with his arms behind his back. "Concentrate. Think the command very clearly in your mind."

You take a deep breath as you square your shoulders, assume your stance, and raise your wand.

"Alright, I'm going to cast it," you tell him, giving him the same warning he'd granted you.

"I'm ready," he assures you in an echo of your words.

"Imperio," you say aloud, and a warm weight like you've just been handed the reigns to the carriage of Helios himself settles into your dominant hand. The effect on your intended target is immediate, spine straightening as he stands to attention, an eerie green glow flickering to life in the heart of his warm brown eyes.

You nearly lose your nerve when you see it, an overwhelming, all-consuming realization that you're completely in control of another human being settling into the pit of your stomach like lead, terrified that one wrong move could potentially hurt your dearest friend. But then you remind yourself that he's the one who asked you to cast it on him, that you're learning this spell for a reason, and so you close your eyes and clear your mind, focusing on the task at hand.

Walk over to the desk and bring back one of Highwing's feathers, and then place it behind my ear, your own voice rings out inside your head, clear as crystal. You open your eyes in time to see Sebastian already on the move, watching with a kind of macabre fascination as he does exactly as you'd commanded.

"Finite," you say the moment you feel the quill gently slide into place behind your left ear — though at first you wonder whether you've done it right, when Sebastian doesn't immediately withdraw his hand, instead letting it linger to brush back a lock of hair and tuck it behind your ear to join the bright white feather. You're saved from worry when he clears his throat a moment later, the bridge of his nose dusted in a curious shade of pink.

"A perfect first cast," he tells you, and although you don't necessarily want to be proud that you'd gotten such a dark spell right on your very first try, you can't help but preen a little at his praise.

"Now, I want you to try it again, but this time, let's focus on recitation," he says, backing up a few paces and resuming his stance from before. "Think the words very clearly inside your mind and watch as they come spilling out of my mouth as though we were a living ventriloquist act," he quips, lips curling up in a wry smile.

Used to his rather dark sense of humor in light of things he should probably take a bit more seriously, you merely smirk and roll your eyes.

After another steadying breath, you lift your wand and cast it again, beginning with a simple, "Hi, my name is Sebastian Sallow, and I'm a seventh year Slytherin at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," watching in equal parts wonder and horror as he repeats every word you'd just been thinking in perfect recitation.

That's what an utterly ridiculous idea comes to you, and, curious to test the bounds of the enchantment beyond mere facts and figures, you instruct him to say something you know he never would of his own accord.

"Hello, I'm Sebastian Mallowsweet, and cockroach clusters are my favorite treat in all the world! I can't wait to buy a whole barrel from Honeydukes the next time I'm in Hogsmeade," Sebastian repeats in a bright, cheerful voice that makes you giggle so hard you nearly slip up and lose your hold on the spell, but not before you get him to add in a hearty, "Perhaps I'll share some with my best mate, Duncan Hobhouse, the bravest man I've ever known."

"Finite," you manage between poorly-stifled bouts of laughter.

"Oh, that's just cruel," Sebastian chides you with a playful scowl, shaking himself out of the enchantment.

"I'm not sure what's worse, the image of a whole barrel of cockroach clusters, or the idea of voluntarily spending time with Puffskein Dunkein," he adds with a sharper shudder toward the latter. "Rest assured I'll get you back for that heinous slander."

At this point you're a lost cause, laughing so hard it's like you've downed a dozen shots of giggle water, shoulders shaking as you struggle to regain composure. Try as he might, Sebastian can't even pretend to be cross with you, lips quirking up at the corners in a fond smile.

"It's a power feeling, isn't it?" he asks softly, giving you an appraising look, curious to see how you'll answer.

"Is it bad that I sort of enjoyed it?" you ask, wincing as though you've just admitted something wicked.

Sebastian studies you for a moment, choosing his next words very carefully.

"There's nothing wrong with the thrill that comes with learning a bit of forbidden magic," he says thoughtfully. "As long as you're responsible about how you use it."

"Some people learn that lesson through trial and error," he continues, lips twisting into a self-effacing frown. "And to some, it just comes naturally. Given that I am speaking to the person who had the chance to take one of the most powerful sources of magic known to wizardkind and keep it all to herself, but chose not to…I think it's safe to say you've more than proven yourself."

Your lips pull up in a small, grateful smile.

"And let's not forget one very important caveat: I gave you full permission to cast it on me and make me say whatever you wanted," he reminds you. "So let me ask you this: would you ever cast it on me without my consent?"

"Of course not!" you answer without hesitation, scandalized by the very thought.

"There you go," he says with a reassuring smile. "So, no, you're not a bad person for enjoying that little moment of power, because in the end, all you did was make a friend say something silly."

"But the kinds of people who usually wield this type of spell…well, let's just say their intentions aren't quite so whimsical," he says, grounding you back in a sharper reality, the chilling warning like a gust of wind through lantern light, reminding just how dark and twisted the path through the woods can be.

"Which is precisely why you're learning it," he says with bright conviction. "So you can understand the dangers of it, learn how to fight against it."

"Now, with your permission, I'm going to cast it again, and this time, I want you to try to break it, alright? Concentrate on channeling your own wants and needs, making your own voice louder than the one giving the commands."

You give him a firm nod of affirmation, wand held steady at your side.

"Ready?" he asks.

"Ready," you reply.

Sebastian raises his wand.

You brace yourself for it this time, try to shake yourself out of the fog the moment it hits. Just before you slip under, you see Sebastian's lips curl upward in a mischievous smirk, dark eyes glinting with mirth. It doesn't take long for you to figure out why, when, true to his promise to get you back for your little cockroach clusters prank, the words, "Sebastian Sallow is the best in our year — a dueling champion, clever as Merlin, graceful as a phoenix on the wind," come tumbling out of your mouth without your approval.

You concentrate all your effort on trying to break his hold on you, your own voice snorting with laughter inside your head as you recall that first day in Defence Against The Dark Arts when you'd knocked that cocky little smirk clean off his face with a single blow. Dueling champion, my arse.

That little burst of your own laughter grounds you, gives you clarity, strengthens your resolve to push back against the commanding voice inside your head, until you feel the curse's hold on you start to weaken, little by little, like the steady tick tick tick of an unlocking charm, before all the right tumblers and springs click into place.

Spell broken, you decide that the best way to get Sebastian back is to take his own ostentatious accolades a step further, hand over your heart as you pretend to swoon, sighing, "Devilishly charming, too. I would gladly spend hours charting constellations in the freckles that adorn his handsome face."

"With my lips," you add with a salacious wink to really drive it home, delighting in the way his whole face goes up in flames, burning brighter than a Confringo blast.

(The fact that it's all true is irrelevant. The point of the thing is to tease him, and judging by the stupefied look on his face, you've succeeded.)

"I—" Sebastian falters, embarrassingly breathless. "Hang on, I didn't tell you to say any of that!"

"That's right!" you exclaim, doubled over laughing for the second time in as many minutes. "I'd already broken your hold on me, that was me having a lark," you tell him, beaming with pride.

Sebastian looks relieved and disappointed all at once.

"That's…that's amazing," he manages. "Broke free from the enchantment on your very first try. You really are something special, you know that?"

You sweep into a low, theatrical bow like a performer on a stage, lips curving up in a smile when he snorts with laughter.

"Alright now, don't get cocky," he chides with a playful roll of his eyes. "While that was excellent for a first try, I still managed to get in a few commands before you broke the enchantment. So, we're going to keep practicing until you're able to completely throw it off from the get-go, alright?"

"Yes, professor," you tease him, stifling one last bout of giggles as he levels you with an admonishing arch of his eyebrow, though the fond upturn of his lips gives him away.

"Cheeky," he chuckles, shaking his head.

You can't help but stick your tongue out at him, further proving his point.

"Now, as you'll have no doubt noticed, fighting off verbal vs. physical commands requires different levels of concentration and technique," he continues, assuming a professorial stance in spite of (or perhaps, unconsciously, because of) your playful commentary. "One is merely a matter of holding your tongue, but it's a different game entirely having to fight for control over the entire rest of your body."

"With that said, I'm going to cast it again," he warns, wand at the ready. "And this time, I want you to practice fighting against a physical command."

"Ready?" he asks, checking in one last time.

"Ready," you nod, back straight as you prepare for the incantation.

"Imperio," he says, and in an instant, that same serene blankness creeps in, only this time, it's like you can make out distinct shapes in the fog, growing clearer and clearer the harder you focus, the more you ground yourself, holding fast to your own thoughts, your own feelings, your own desires.

His task is simple — button his cloak and straighten his tie.

You feel your feet start to move toward him, hands raising to complete the command, when—

No, your own voice rings out, loud and clear. I don't want to do that.

Your hands settle over the front of his cloak, pausing as they inch closer to the open clasp.

Button my cloak and straighten my tie, Sebastian's voice calls out again, more insistent this time. But the voice that answers — your voice — is so much louder and stronger.

No, you stand your ground, snapping back with a triumphant laugh. No, I really don't think I will.

In fact, that's the last thing I want to do right now, you muse, lips curving upward in a cheeky grin.

A heady rush of defiance and determination surges through your veins, lighting up all your nerve endings like a live wire, and in your eagerness to rebel against the enchantment, you end up doing the complete opposite of Sebastian's request, hands sliding under the fabric of his cloak and slipping it off of his shoulders in one swift, fluid sweep, silk-lined wool pooling at his feet as you dive straight for his necktie, making a fine mess of the striped emerald and silver satin in your eager attempts to loosen it, fingers curling around smooth silk and giving it a gentle tug to urge him closer, unraveling until it's completely come undone, spilling into the hood of his cloak.

You can't help but notice how pretty and pale his throat looks beneath it, adam's apple straining with each swallow, caught on the edge of a soft, stuttered groan as you slide your hands up the length of his chest, fingertips dancing across the back of his neck and threading through the soft chestnut curls at his nape. Your eyes follow the movement with a needy, yearning kind of hunger, consumed by the thought of how much prettier it would look littered with pink and purple bruises in the shape of your lips.

A sharp intake of breath sends your senses into overdrive, head swimming in an intoxicating blend of spearmint and strawberry sugar quills lingering on the edge of his lips and the tip of his tongue, and suddenly all you can focus on is how badly you want to taste it. The words kiss me ring out inside your head, desperate and longing, and for a moment, you can't tell whether it's his voice or your own imagination, caught up in a fantasy you've been playing out inside your head for the past two and a half years.

Whatever remains of the enchantment's hold on you is immediately withdrawn, sobriety washing back over you like a sudden plunge into a freezing lake, stumbling forward as Sebastian takes a few cautionary steps back. Instinctively, he reaches out to steady you, gentle hands prying yours from around the collar of his button-up shirt. He holds them there between the two of you for a moment, and then slowly glances down, letting out a small gasp when he realizes he's touching you, and immediately pulls away like he's just been burned.

He looks at you like he's afraid of you, eyes wide with panic and shame, a fiery red heat blossoming in the hollows of his cheeks.

For a moment, you're terrified you've crossed some sort of line, turned his stomach with the regret of having to eat his own words, all that lavish praise he'd bestowed upon you, all those gallant notions of a natural proclivity for responsibility, moral compass thrown off course by the magnet that always seems to pull you toward him.

Your mind reels as you struggle to process what just happened, one little moment changing the course of everything in the space of a few seconds. It all happened so fast — one minute you were fighting against the enchantment, and the next, your hands were in his hair, all sense lost to everything but how soft it felt beneath your fingertips, swept up in the way those warm brown eyes fixed on yours like he burned for you, sunlit warmth and dulcet sugar ghosting across your lips with each breath, and suddenly all you could think about was how desperately you wanted to kiss him, so focused on channeling your own thoughts and feelings into a shield to defend yourself against the curse, you unwittingly summoned everything you've ever wanted to the surface, all those long-held desires you've tried so hard to keep buried, unearthed.

You open your mouth to apologize for getting carried away, scrambling to come up with a reasonable explanation that doesn't involve spilling your deepest secrets, pouring your heart out to the man who's held it captive for years, hoping like hell the connection severed before he heard those stupid little words ring out inside your head, that you haven't completely ruined your friendship — but before you get the chance, he's the one who starts talking, a litany of apologies falling from his lips at a dizzying speed, promising you that he would never, ever use Imperio to make you kiss him of all things, begging you to trust him.

You blink in surprise. What's he on about? Of course you trust him. That was never in question. He's mischievous, certainly, a silver-tongued charmer when he wants to get his way, but you know he would never do anything as villainous as use potions or spells to try to get someone to…to…

Oh.

So you hadn't imagined it, then.

His thoughts. His words. His voice. Wrapped so sweetly around those two little words.

Kiss me.

Not a command, but a subconscious desire, just like yours.

Sebastian wanted you to kiss him.

A mad, blissful smile spreads across your face, heart pounding in your throat as it threatens to leap right out of your chest. Your lips part, willing the right words to come, to assure him it's more than alright, but his anxious steamrolling doesn't give you the chance.

"I'm sorry," Sebastian cries, agonized. "I'm so sorry. You have to believe me, I would never take advantage of you like that. I swear to you it wasn't intentional, I just got carried away in the moment and it sort of slipped out. Beautiful girl tugging at my clothes like that, soft hands running through my hair, the way your eyes sort of burned when you looked at me, I—"

His expression softens to something you'd dare call smitten, lips curving upward in a big, goofy grin as he plays it back, and then quickly shakes his head, admonishing himself.

"Merlin, there I go again," he sighs, wincing in embarrassment as he chances a glance at you, an earnest longing burning in his eyes that makes your heart ache with the need to reach out and touch him. "I've tried so hard for so long to keep my feelings in check, because I know you don't feel the same way, and the last thing I want to do is jeopardize our friendship, so I—"

You're certain the end of that sentence would've been lovely and heartfelt, but you'll never know for sure, the rest of his words swallowed in a soft, surprised oh as you rush forward, closing the distance between you and pressing your lips against his. It's soft and small and tentative, hands gently cradling the sides of his face to keep you both steady, but when you pull back a moment later, Sebastian looks at you like he's just been Confunded, his face an adorable blend between shocked and hopeful, sun-kissed freckles spilling into the curves of his dimples as his lips curve into a bright, blissful smile.

And then, just as quickly as it had appeared, it's gone, replaced by apprehension and disbelief.

"Wait," Sebastian falters, holding you back at arm's length and looking you over with the same care and consideration he'd shown the first time he cast the curse on you, concern etched into his narrowed eyebrows. "Are you still under my spell?"

You can't help the smirk that curls across your lips at his choice of wording.

"In a manner of speaking," you reply, sly smile turning soft as you reassure him, "but not in the way you're thinking."

Sebastian blinks at you, confused.

"Then why would you…do that?" he asks, like he genuinely can't believe you'd kiss him of your own accord.

"Because I wanted to," you tell him, and the weight of it makes you laugh like you're about to cry. "I've wanted to kiss you for so long, Sebastian, you have no idea."

Sebastian's breath comes out in a sharp burst, redolent of that same euphoric laughter bubbling up inside your chest.

"How long?" he asks.

"Since you took the fall for me that night we got caught sneaking into the Restricted Section," you tell him, smiling fondly at the memory.

"The first time, that is," you add with a wry chuckle.

Sebastian lets out a disbelieving laugh, raking a hand through his hair and grinning at you like he would gladly go back and do it all over again.

"And you?" you ask tentatively, hardly daring to believe this is actually happening.

Sebastian's lips pull up into a playful smile.

"About five seconds after you knocked me on my arse during our first duel."

Now it's your turn to let out a surprised laugh. All that time you spent thinking your feelings were one-sided, and he's the one who fell first.

"It took you five whole seconds?" you tease, slipping easily back into your usual banter, reveling in the fact that you can freely flirt with him now.

Sebastian snorts with laughter.

"Yes, well…if you'll recall, I was rather stupid back then," he heaves a dramatic sigh. "After all, it took me two and half years to finally work up the nerve to kiss you."

"I'm the one who kissed you," you remind him, quirking an amused eyebrow at him.

"Ah, still besting me, I see," he chuckles, warm breath ghosting across your lips as he takes a step closer.

"Oh, but I wonder…do I still have the power to knock you on your arse?" you tease in a soft, low murmur.

His eyes do a slow, deliberate sweep down to your lips, tongue darting out to lick his own in anticipation, before slowly trailing back up to meet your eyes.

"Every time you smile at me," he replies with a cheeky smirk.

"You charming bastard," you chide him, laughter swallowed up in another kiss as he leans forward to press his lips against yours.

"Mmm, that reminds me," Sebastian murmurs in between stolen kisses, smiling against your lips as you let out a needy whimper, already addicted to the way he tastes.

"So, earlier…when you called me devilishly charming and told me you wanted to — what was it — chart constellations in the freckles that adorn my handsome face…you really meant that?" he teases, positively beaming.

The look on his face is so smug, you're torn between wanting to knock him on his arse again, and wanting to kiss the stupid smirk right off his stupid, handsome face. (Though you already know which one is going to win out.)

"Oh, fuck off," you laugh. "Yes, I think you're handsome and charming—"

"Devilishly so."

"Yes, yes, you absolute menace. I think we've well and truly established that I like you," you wave him off, rolling your eyes in fond amusement. "Now, shut up and kiss me."

Sebastian chuckles under his breath and starts to lean forward, stopping just short of your lips, making you let out another impatient whine.

"Just one more thing," he says, remnants of mint and sugar ghosting across your lips as he leans in close, voice dropping to a low, prowling murmur. "You are, without a doubt, the most breathtakingly beautiful person on the face of this earth, and I consider it a goddamn tragedy worse than the falling out of the founders that I've gone this long without the pleasure of reminding you every single day from the moment we met."

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him, spellbound by his words, heart aching to leap right out of your throat and build a home inside his chest right next to his own, and then you're rushing forward, closing that hairsbreadth distance that might as well be the space between two mountains, crashing your lips against his and kissing him senseless.

Your hands are everywhere, tugging at his shirt, threading through his hair, pulling him as close as possible. So lost in the intoxicating touch and taste of him that you don't realize you've been steadily moving backwards until your backside collides with the sharp corner of your desk. You let out a startled gasp that quickly turns to laughter, head lolling against Sebastian's shoulder as your own shake with self-effacing mirth.

"Are you alright?" he asks, concern akin to a battle with an ashwinder and not a piece of inanimate furniture. You manage a small nod through your laughter.

"Damn desk, bruising my girl," Sebastian scowls, the words my girl sending a thrill like a bolt of lightning right through you.

You let out a surprised giggle as he picks you up and gently places you on top of the desk, settling between your thighs.

"The only kind of marks you should ever have on you are the ones from my lips," he whispers in between soft, slow, teasing kisses up the length of your neck, sucking a bruise against your pulse point that has you curling your fingers through his hair and moaning his name.

"Always hoped I'd hear you say my name like that," he murmurs in a deep, rumbling growl you can feel thrumming between your ribs like thunder.

Eager to return the favor, you thread your fingers through his hair and give him a gentle yet insistent tug, delighting in the way it elicits a rough, guttural moan in the back of his throat, pulse point jumping beneath your touch as you run your tongue along the curve of his adam's apple.

You're fairly certain one of the buttons goes rolling off under the desk as you tear open his shirt and splay your hands across his chest, pleased to find a whole new canvas of well-earned muscle teeming with sun-kissed freckled dotted between soft patches of chestnut hair, uncharted territory just begging to be mapped out with your lips.

By contrast, Sebastian is equal parts gentle and nervous. Clumsy, trembling fingers work the buttons of your blouse and the lacings of your bra until you're completely bare before him, the flowing fabric of your sleeves hanging loosely off your shoulders. For several long moments, all he can seem to do is stare at you like you're a miracle made real, licking his lips in anticipation as his eyes rake across your breasts.

Sebastian's gaze flickers up to yours, a silent plea. You let out a soft breath, nodding eagerly. In the next second, he's pressed in close again, warm hands skimming up the length of your torso before gently settling under the swell of your breasts, holding you like you're a precious artefact, pleasure sparking low in your core as hard-earned callouses graze across your nipples with a perfect texture.

Sebastian lets out a soft hum as he feels them pebble against the palm of his hand, eyebrows arching in a kind of curious fascination as he glances down at his own hands like he's just performed a spectacular bit of magic. Freckled cheeks curve into an eager smile as he ducks his head down, pressing a series of tentative, exploring kisses from the soft slope of your breasts down to the pale peaks of your nipples, taking one of them into his mouth and applying the gentlest bit of suction as he swipes his tongue across the sensitive bud, grinning in triumph as you let out a lurid moan and arch into his touch.

He pockets that bit of very useful information for later as he slowly makes his way back up toward your lips, eager to kiss you again, peppering fevered kisses across your collarbones and up the length of your neck, not wanting to miss a single inch of skin. Within seconds, he's captured your lips in a searing kiss, one hand tangled in your hair, the other gently cradling your cheek as he kisses you breathless, groaning into your mouth as you pull him flush against you, soft breasts pressed against the hard plane of his chest, heathered skirt hiked up around your hips as he cages you in.

Sebastian's rapidly growing hardness is an insistent pressure between your thighs, sparking your own arousal in a pleasant ache that pulses through your core with each touch. In an effort to get even closer to you, Sebastian shifts, and the head of his cock inadvertently grinds between the gusset of your underwear, sending shock waves of pleasure that have you gasping into his mouth, white-knuckling the sleeves of his shirt.

You can't take it anymore. It's too much and not nearly enough all at once. You need more of him. You need all of him.

"Sebastian," you sigh, breathless between kisses. "Do you— do you have protection?"

"Protection?" Sebastian pulls back to look at you, eyebrows arched in a look of adorable confusion.

"From what? I doubt anything will attack us while we're in—" he stutters as the tip of your finger curls into the waistband of his trousers and gives a suggestive tug forward.

"Oh," Sebastian's eyebrows jump in surprise.

"Unless you don't want—" you immediately pull back, feeling foolish.

"Oh, I want," he insists, drawing you back toward him, voice rough and pleading with exactly how much he wants. "I was just caught off guard. I wasn't expecting—"

Sebastian falters, nerves ramping up again.

"You have to know, when I asked you to come out with me tonight, I wasn't expecting any of this."

"I know you weren't," you reassure him with soft, gentle strokes through his hair. "I trust you, remember?"

Sebastian nods, breathing out on a sigh of relief.

"But, yeah…if you're asking me to be honest…stick a pin in trying to be a gentleman," he lets out a sheepish laugh, one of his hands coming up to attack a phantom itch on the back of his neck. "Then the answer is a resounding, embarrassingly keen yes. I very much want to."

"I do too," you admit with a shy giggle, fingers curling under the collar of his shirt to draw him in for another, softer kiss.

The moment the words leave your mouth, two small crystal phials appear next to you on the desk, labeled in pristine print across each side: infecunditatem temporalis, XXIV h. — temporary infertility, lasting twenty-four hours.

The two of you stare down at them for a moment, blinking in surprise, and then slowly pick them up.

"Well, that's handy," Sebastian remarks with a breathless laugh. "This room really does think of everything."

"Cheers," you murmur softly, instinctually linking arms the same way you've always done for every shot of Firewhisky and post-match Butterbeer toast, before downing your respective phials in one swig.

You set them back down on top of the desk and glance up at one another, suddenly nervous.

"I've never done this before…have you?" you ask, not entirely sure you want to know the answer. You've always been exceptionally close, but you doubt he's told you everything.

"Ah well, you know me…" Sebastian starts with a cocky upturn of his lips, and then immediately deflates, letting out a long, slow, defeated sigh. He knows he'd never be able to lie to you, but a part of him momentarily considers whether he should, irrational fear mingling with a deep-seated insecurity that you'll be put off when you find out he has no idea what he's doing. He's researched, of course. Extensively. But it's not like he's ever put it into practice.

"No," he sighs, admitting it like it's some kind of flaw. "Most I've ever done is kiss someone…and that was back in fourth year…on a dare."

He doesn't miss the way your shoulders relax, relief in the form of a small smile curling across your lips, and suddenly he's very glad he never did anything for the sake of just getting it over with, rebounding his hopeless feelings with some faceless stranger wishing it was you, giddy with a heady mix of nerves and excitement that he'll get to be your first.

And if he's very, very lucky, your only.

"And since?" you nudge, keen to hear him say it.

Sebastian's lips quirk up in a playful grin.

"There's only one person I've wanted to kiss since then," he says, leaning forward to capture your lips in a slow, deep kiss.

"Only one person I've imagined lain on their back as I fall to my knees and bury my lips between their thighs," Sebastian confesses in a low, hungry growl, punctuating each word with a searing kiss as he slowly works his way down the length of your body, mouthing at your neck, between your breasts, across the ticklish plane of your stomach, until he's on his knees in front of you, gazing up at you like you're a brand new constellation in a starless night sky.

"You've no idea how badly I've been longing for a view like this," he says with an appreciative groan, kissing a hungry trail up your inner thighs. "Makes the view from the top of the Astronomy Tower look rather dull by comparison."

You can't help the blissful laugh that escapes you, legs trembling beneath his eager lips. Sebastian pauses his ministrations to look up at you, eyebrows arching in lighthearted indignation.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I say something funny?" he admonishes, nipping playfully at your inner thigh and making you let out a sharp peal of laughter.

"No, it's just…oh, please don't take this the wrong way, but I'm just…pleasantly surprised, is all," you giggle.

"Whatever for?" he asks, rising back up to meet you. You throw your arms around his shoulders and pull him close, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.

"You hear stories…about men who absolutely refuse to do that sort of thing, yet seem to expect it from their partners," you explain, thinking back to all those hushed conversations you'd overheard in the girls' lavatories, whispered in the dark before bedtime. "I suppose a part of me has always wondered whether you'd be the same. More of a taker than a giver in the bedroom."

Sebastian leans back to look at you, lips pulling into a frown.

"On the one hand, I'm insulted you think I'd do anything short of worship you," he says, diving back in to press a series of hungry kisses up the length of your neck that have you shaking in anticipation of such a promise.

"But on the other," he counters, pulling back to fix you with a teasing smirk. "It's nice to know you've spent a great deal of time thinking about what I'd be like in the bedroom."

A carmine blush creeps across your cheeks as you remember all the times you'd done far more than just think about him, careful to draw your curtains and cast a silencing charm so no one would hear you when you called out his name.

If only he knew…

…come morning, you'll make certain he does.

"Speaking of which—" Sebastian prompts, eyes darting around the room with an appraising frown, before landing on the desktop underneath you, broken quills and crumpled sheets of parchment hastily shoved aside to make room for your — ahem, more amorous ventures.

"This room might be fine for study and spellwork, but it's not the most romantic of places. I can fix that," he says, giving you a wry smile as he offers you his hand and helps you down from the desk.

"Just close my eyes and picture what I want, yeah?" he asks, looking to you for reassurance. You nod in encouragement, slipping your fingers between his and giving the palm of his hand an affectionate squeeze.

Sebastian closes his eyes and concentrates, summoning two and a half years' worth of fantasies to the forefront of his mind. A moment later, there's a soft grind of stone, and the two of you glance up in time to see a marble statue of an owl that's always sat in the alcove between the grasslands and the coastal vivarium twisting into an invisible recess in the floor, revealing a brand new corridor in its wake.

You let out a startled laugh as Sebastian scoops you up into his arms and carries you down the corridor, lulled by the excited thrum of his heartbeat as you bury your face into his chest and wrap your arms around his neck. In just a few short strides, you arrive at the end of the hallway, where a handsome set of oak doors adorned with elegant swirling filigree in blossoming flowers and twisting vines, crescent moons and little stars, springs to life like fast-growing ivy.

You reach out to turn the handle, and for a moment, you're plunged into total darkness, the room beyond an unfinished painting, transforming before your very eyes the moment the two of you step inside, polished floorboards rippling into place like piano keys playing an arpeggio, walls and ceiling a patchwork puzzle as they slowly piece themselves together.

Brushstrokes in deep ocean blues and dark verdant greens turn the heart of the Forbidden Forest under a midnight sky into a painter's palette, dozens of paper lanterns lit by softly flickering candlelight floating all around you like fireflies, bathing the room in hazy hues of silver and gold as they mingle with the light of the crescent moon trickling down from up above, ceiling enchanted to look as though it opens out onto the heavens, night sky glittering with thousands of shooting stars.

A trail of your favorite flower petals leads to a cozy alcove bed cradled between two recessed bookshelves brimming with pristine leather-bounds the two of you will no doubt spend hours perusing at leisure, gossamer curtains woven with intricate stars and crescent moons spilling down across the silken sheets.

The gentle cadence of rainfall taps its fingertips against the glass of an ornate three-paned window set just above the bed, painted in a perfect replica of the sprawling landscapes from the hidden corridor he'd shown you earlier in the night, while a crackling fireplace dances merrily in the heart of a cozy reading nook complete with two plush armchairs tucked together side by side.

Sebastian lets out a contented hum as the last little details of the room settle into place, glancing down to gauge your reaction, eager to know what you think.

"Oh, Sebastian," you whisper as you gaze around the room, candlelight dancing like flecks of gold in your eyes. "It's beautiful."

Sebastian beams. Of all the times you managed to leave him utterly spellbound tonight, it's a point of pride to finally be able to elicit the same response from you.

"Trust I've been dreaming of the perfect place to be romantic with you for quite some time," he murmurs, leaning down to nuzzle his nose against your cheek.

You gaze up at him adoringly and lean up to kiss him, butterflies taking flight in your stomach when you feel the hard press of his uncontainable smile against your lips.

"Now, where were we?" he whispers, whisking you away to the cozy alcove bed at the heart of the room and gently setting you down at its edge between the star-strewn curtains.

As though he can't stand to be parted from you for a second longer, Sebastian sweeps forward to capture your lips in another breath-stealing kiss, gentle hands sliding across the curve of your jaw to thread through the hair at the back of your neck, cradling the back of your head as he kisses you slowly, deeply, savoring every second.

He takes his time peeling off the layers of your clothing, unwrapping you like a gift, hands sliding between bare skin and soft cotton until your blouse comes spilling off your shoulders to pool around your waist, eager lips following its trajectory as he presses a series of adoring kisses down the column of your throat, tongue darting out to smooth across the tender, claiming bruise he'd left on your pulse point, smirking at the way it jumps beneath his touch, gently palming at your breasts as he makes his slow descent.

Where before he'd allowed himself a small taste, this time Sebastian indulges, falling to his knees and burying his face between your breasts, pressing lavish kisses in time to the beat of your heart, before taking the nipple he hadn't had the pleasure of tasting earlier into his mouth and applying a gentle suction, delighting in the way it elicits the same sinful response from you as it did before.

Not wanting to neglect either of them, Sebastian tries to mimic the same technique on the one not currently occupied by his mouth with his fingers, gently kneading the pebbled peak between his thumb and index finger. Clearly it's the right move, because the moment he does both in tandem, you let out a sharp gasp, arching your back in an effort to get even closer to him, fingers curling around the sleeves of his shirt and gripping tight.

Sebastian chuckles, a low rumbling laugh that vibrates like a crackle of thunder inside your chest as he worships every delectable detail of your breasts, until a series of pink and purple bruises in the shape of his lips starts to blossom across your skin. The sight of it stirs something primal inside him, little reminders lasting well beyond tonight that let everyone know you're his.

Sebastian would gladly spend the rest of his days buried between your breasts, but the curious, insatiable, thrill-seeking side of him is eager to keep exploring, map out every inch of your body with his hands, lips, and tongue until he's memorized every single way you love to be touched, keen to know what other addictive sounds he can get you to make.

He presses a trail of kisses down your torso, smiling when you giggle and squirm beneath him as his lips tickle the curves of your stomach, pausing when he reaches the waistline of your skirt.

"Lay back, darling. Let me take care of you," he insists in a low whisper, sending heat like an inferno straight to your core. You do as he asks, hair fanning out across the sheets, a cool press of silk against your fevered skin.

Deft fingers carefully work the buttons at your waist, unraveling your wrap-around skirt until it's laid out flat beneath you. Hands shaking from a mess of excitement and nerves, Sebastian carefully hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your knickers and slowly slides them down your legs, breath hitching when you tilt your hips to help ease them off, giving him a glimpse of your backside.

"Fuck, you're stunning," he says with a wrecked, desperate groan that has you blushing like you've just downed a shot of Firewhisky, laid bare beneath his hungry gaze as he takes a moment to drink you in.

"Can I touch you?" he asks in a quiet, almost pleading voice.

"Please," you tell him, just as desperate.

Nervous, gentle hands slide up along the outside of your thighs, smoothing over the curves of your hips before settling in the space between, breathing out on a soft, stuttered gasp as his fingers thread through the soft patch of curls at the apex of your thighs.

He skims a finger featherlight along the seam of your lips, testing the waters before delving deeper, a low groan rumbling in the back of his throat when he feels how wet you already are for him. Heat pools low in your belly as he slides between your folds in an achingly slow tease, sending shivers like shock waves rolling down the length of your spine, working you into a frenzy as careful, calloused fingers graze your clit.

Once he's satisfied you're ready to take him, fingers coated in your slick, Sebastian slips down to rub teasing circles against your entrance, driving you to the point of madness, canting your hips with soft little whines, until finally, he relents, slowly sliding his ring and middle fingers inside you and curling them in a come hither motion that has you gasping and writhing above him.

"Is this— is this alright?" he asks, concern bleeding through breathless exhilaration.

"It feels amazing, Seb," you manage, yours words barely more than a stuttered moan as his fingers twitch inside you. "Please don't stop touching me."

Your soft gasps and moans guide him to where he needs to go, thumb rubbing heady circles against your clit as his fingers curl in that blissful breath-stuttering way inside you. He works you into a maddening frenzy, pressure slowly building like an arrow being drawn across a bowstring, and Sebastian can't help but let out a low groan each time you flutter and tighten around him. If this is how incredible you feel against his fingers, he can't even imagine how amazing you're going to feel around his cock. Though that particular pleasure will have to wait just a little bit longer, because Sebastian isn't anywhere near finished with you yet.

You let out a needy whine as that delicious pressure suddenly disappears, only to be replaced by a sharp burst of breathless laughter as Sebastian grabs a handful of your backside and hauls you closer to the edge of the bed, coaxing your legs over his shoulders as he buries his face between your thighs.

"Forgive me, darling, but I need to taste you," he groans, tongue darting out to delve between your folds.

"Sebastian," you cry out as a burst of pleasure sparks through you, hands fisting in the sheets. Sebastian lets out another loud moan as you call out his name, tongue gliding down to lick at your entrance, burying himself deep enough to taste your pleasure at the back of his throat, before sweeping back up to capture your clit in a blissful blend of gentle suction and the sinful swirl of his tongue.

Slowly, carefully, he slides his fingers back inside you, curling them against that sweet spot deep within you, lips and tongue working in perfect tandem to worship your clit with the same eager attention he'd given your breasts.

You've never felt so feral in all your life, hands clutching at the sheets as you writhe above him like a wild animal in heat, Sebastian's name spilling from your lips in a flurry of sighs and soft, keening moans. With a contented hum, Sebastian reaches up to gently pry your fingers from the bedspread, lacing his own through yours and giving the palm of your hand an affectionate three-pulse squeeze, encouraging you to hold fast to him instead, not wanting to miss a single detail of just how wild he makes you.

Your other hand follows suit, seeking him out, chestnut curls even softer than the silk sheets as you curl your fingers through his hair and give him an insistent tug, and oh, he really likes it when you're a little rough with him, so desperate and needy for his touch that all you can think to do in that moment is pull him even closer, the low, throaty moans he makes every time you do only serving to heighten your pleasure as they vibrate through your core like rolls of thunder.

He brings you crashing over the edge, wrecked and breathless as you call out his name, begging him between stuttered sighs that you need him to be inside you, now.

Sebastian lets out a soft, blissful breath as he presses a few more kisses to your inner thighs, and then slowly rises to his feet, gaze locked on yours as he swipes the pad of his thumb across his lower lip, tongue darting out to lick the last of your release. The sight is obscene, riling up a primal pride deep within you that only makes you want him even more.

You sit perched on the edge of the bed, reaching up to slide his button-up shirt off his shoulders and running your hands down the length of his torso, soft curves over hard-earned muscle, freckles scattered amidst soft patches of chestnut hair like a star-strewn sky through a forest canopy, pausing to take a steadying breath as you reach the waistband of his trousers. Hands trembling from a mix of nerves and excitement, you carefully work the buttons to relieve him of his trousers, the last layer of clothing left between you.

You take a moment to drink him in, eyes raking down the length of his body in hungry appraisal, letting out a soft gasp as you take in the sight of his generous length, before slowly sweeping back up to meet his gaze again, thrill and desire outweighing any apprehension over his intimidating size. You understand now how he must have felt when he first saw you — every inch of him is absolutely stunning.

You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss, sending the two of you tumbling backward against the pillows, giggling and grinning as you cling to one another. Sebastian kisses you, soft and slow, his body a warm, comforting weight as he settles between your thighs, hovering above you. The two of you breathe in on a stuttered gasp as he takes himself in hand and slides the head of his cock between your folds, coating himself in a combination of his saliva and your release, hesitating as he lines himself up with your entrance.

"Ready?" he asks with a steadying breath, heated gaze locked on yours.

"Ready," you answer, just as breathless as you tilt your hips in invitation.

With a broken, blissed out moan, Sebastian slowly sinks inside, stuttered breaths ghosting across your lips as he closes his eyes and presses his forehead against your own, hips stilling the moment he hears your soft gasp from underneath him.

"How're you feeling, love? Are you alright?" he asks with an edge of panic to his voice, terrified at the thought of hurting you. He keeps still as a statue, giving you a moment to adjust to the sheer size of him.

It's indescribable — the most incredible pressure, a pleasant ache like kneading sore muscles, building and unraveling tension all at once; a feeling of fullness after a life spent starving; a kind of magic even more timeless and powerful than the rarity thrumming through your veins, wonderstruck by how perfectly he fits inside you, like the two of you were made for each other.

"More than alright," you reassure him with a breathless, euphoric laugh. "I feel amazing."

Sebastian lets out a sigh of relief.

"Merlin, that's one word for it," he breathes out on a blissful laugh, eyes rolling back at how amazing you feel wrapped around him. "You're perfect."

He leans down to kiss you, soft and slow and sweet.

"I'm going to start moving now��is that alright?" he asks after a few quiet moments, voice straining like it's been torture holding back.

"Please," you sigh, coaxing him closer as you wrap your legs around the small of his back.

Sebastian sets a slow and steady pace, achingly tender as his hips rock against yours in long, languid thrusts, pressing soft little kisses to your cheeks and the corners of your lips as he moves above you, whispering between kisses how beautiful and breathtaking you are. He's careful and controlled, each move dulcet and deliberate like a slow dance between the sheets, determined to make this perfect for you, determined to get it just right, because it has to be. Because this is you, and you are everything.

He's been dreaming of this moment for years, and a part of him still can't believe it's really happening, that he actually gets to be with you. He's spent the better part of the last two and half years convincing himself you'd never feel the same, that he was lucky just to call you his friend, selfish to want more, that he didn't deserve you…though that never stopped him desperately wanting you all the same.

He understands now why they call it lovesick — feverish blush prickling at his skin, heart beating like a staccato as he moves above you, hands trembling as they gently cradle the back of your head and draw you in for a slow, sweet kiss. It's all-consuming, burning through him in equal measures of fiery fervor and glowing embers, like he's just swallowed an Incendio charm. Incurable — though this is one life sentence he'll gladly serve.

It's overwhelming how amazing you feel wrapped around him, soft hands threading through his hair and tugging ever so gently, legs locked around his hips to keep him anchored in your depths, shallow gasps and stuttered ohs whispered in between soft sighs in the shape of his name as you gaze up at him like he is everything to you.

It would be all too easy for him to lose himself in the euphoria of finally getting to be with you, and Merlin, he wants to.

He wants all of you. It's like he can't get close enough, a primal hunger to fuse himself with you, body and soul, bury himself inside you like treasure, climb inside your chest and build a home inside your heart, dive down to your depths and spill all his secrets inside you, long-held confessions of how deeply he's fallen for you.

The words bubble up inside his chest like steam inside of a screaming tea kettle, burning his throat as years worth of messy, nerve-addled feelings threaten to spill past his lips. He wants to kiss the words into your skin, knit his love so deep within you, you feel it in your bones, with each pulse of your heart, his name a subliminal sigh with each breath you take, until you're inextricably woven together, until he's an irrevocable part of you, just as you are for him.

He aches for you to be his, because he's so desperately yours. He'd shout it from the top of the Astronomy Tower, from the stars themselves, if he could.

But if he does…he's afraid you might actually hear him. And Sebastian can't have that. He can't let you know the true depth of his feelings. Not yet. It's too soon, too much for something so fragile and new. He knows he can be a little intense, a little overwhelming. When Sebastian loves, it's fierce and unwavering, and as much as he wants to tell you, show you, how deeply he loves you, he's afraid the intensity of his feelings will drive you away.

He supposes that's one of the many reasons he's always been so drawn to more fiery forms of magic. After all, they're just like him. Fervent. Insatiable. Incendiary. Kindred — kindling — spirits. Cast with the best intentions — to protect and keep warm — but one wrong move, too much, and it becomes dangerous, destructive.

Sebastian has spent his whole life being told as much — that he's too much. Overzealous. Unrelenting. Reckless. Doesn't know when to stop. Breaks everything he touches. Loses everyone he loves.

He can't lose you too.

He's a wildfire, and you— you're a forest teeming with birdsong and greenery, and he's terrified that with one wrong move he'll burn you to the ground, when all he wants to do is keep you warm.

So he holds himself back, concentrates all his efforts into taking it slow, swallowing a symphony of lovesick confessions and pouring the softest version of his love into every touch, determined to make this perfect for you, determined to get this just right. Because maybe, if he gets this right, he'll actually be lucky enough to keep you.

"So perfect," he sighs as he moves above you, soft and sweet.

"Tell me what you need, love," he urges between stuttered breaths and slow, languid thrusts. "To make this perfect for you, too."

You can tell he's holding back — each touch a little too gentle, a little too careful, a little too reserved — and you think you know why, because you know him.

Sebastian Sallow has never done anything halfheartedly, so when he loves, it's without reservation — fiercely, deeply, perhaps a little madly.

You also know that he's lost just about everyone he's ever loved.

Though you've never actually spoken the words out loud, you know that he loves you too. It's always been there, unspoken, thrumming beneath the surface of every interaction.

You can hear it in the silence of a lazy afternoon spent cloud-watching under the shade of a flutterby tree in the summoner's courtyard, splayed hands edging across the grass until you feel the accidental brush of his pinky finger against yours.

In little gestures played off as teasing banter, covert hands sliding stacks of toast and chocolate croissants across the shared desk of your first class, wrapped in scribbled notes admonishing you for missing breakfast after yet another sleepless night.

It's in the way you wish each other goodnight, stretching out the moment with hastily stifled bouts of laughter and stolen glances over your shoulders as you watch him make the long trek back from Ravenclaw Tower to Slytherin Dungeon, hesitant to part after yet another nighttime lark, despite the fact that you know you'll see each other the very next day.

In the way he insists on coming along with you on some of your more daring ventures, pushing down his deep-seated fear of spiders and instinctively stepping between you and a thornback ambusher seconds away from incapacitating you with its venom.

You've always known Sebastian loves you, but up until tonight, you've always thought it was in the same way he loves Anne and Ominis. Fond. Familial. Kindred.

That was before you'd felt the weight of his lips against yours, the tremble in his hands as he'd pulled you close, the beat of his heart thundering in time with your own.

Now that you know it runs even deeper — not just friendly or familial love, but romantic love, too — it adds a whole new layer of vulnerability. And if he loves you the way you think he does, the same way you love him, then you know why he's holding back. Because when someone is your whole heart, the prospect of losing them is that much more terrifying.

This is a man who has endured more pain and loss than most people could even dare to imagine. This is a man filled with more fear and guilt than anyone should ever have to bear. Afraid to fuck up again. Afraid to hurt you again. Afraid to lose what little remains of the people he loves. Afraid to let himself have what he wants, because deep down, he still doesn't think he deserves it.

Afraid that he is too brash, too broken, too intense, too much for anyone to ever want, the weight of his grief too heavy for anyone else to carry, spirit too bright and burning for anyone to ever want to get close enough to touch.

And maybe he is. Maybe he is too much. But that's never stopped you wanting all of him just the same. If he is an untamed beast, then your heart is a vivarium, a home built for an occamy at its full potential. For you, he could never be too much, because you could never get enough of him.

He's a wildfire, but you've always been drawn to his warmth, his light, bright sparks lighting up your coldest, darkest nights. You wouldn't just walk through his flames, you'd dance in them, safe in the knowledge that you'll never get burned.

Because he's a wildfire, but you are a hurricane, and you're more than a match for his heat.

So when he asks you, soft and sweet, what you need make this perfect for you, that's exactly what you tell him.

"You. Just you," you sigh as you lean up to press a trail of kisses in between the freckles that dapple the pale column of his throat. "I want all of you, Sebastian. Please, show me how badly you've been wanting me all this time, too. Don't hold anything back. I can take it…anything and everything you're willing to give."

Sebastian's hips still as he pulls back to look at you, lips parted in surprise.

"Are— are you sure?"

You lean up to kiss him, slow and deep, your answer little more than a sigh against his lips.

"I'm yours, Sebastian. I've always been yours," you whisper. "Now all you have to do is take what's yours."

Sebastian gazes at you, stunned for a moment, breath catching in his throat. And then his eyes darken, and that charming smile that's always made you weak in the knees curls across his lips, adoration burning like the heart of a wildfire in his irises as he keeps his steady gaze locked on yours.

He laces his fingers with yours and pins your entwined hands above your head, holding you captive, using them as an anchoring point as he begins driving into you with rough, zealous thrusts that hit deep and steal your breath, his other hand coming up to smooth across your cheek as he pulls you in for a kiss, swallowing his own name as it falls from your lips in a stuttered sigh.

"Like this, love?" Sebastian groans, the hard line of his smirk pressed against your lips. "Is this how you want me fuck you?"

"God, yes. Please, Sebastian—"

"As you wish, darling," he growls, picking up pace even faster, his thrusts coming even rougher. "You've no idea how badly I've wanted to have you just like this."

"Tell me," you urge, voice barely more than a whisper.

A litany of lovesick confessions spill from his lips in between desperate, hungry kisses: how deeply he adores you, how beautiful you look laid out beneath him, how amazing you feel wrapped around him, how you must've been made for each other with how perfectly you fit together, how he's been dreaming of being with you like this for so long and he can't believe he's lucky enough to actually have the real thing.

How he'd love nothing more than to keep you forever, make you his in every possible sense of the word (because he's yours, he's always been yours, every beat of his heart belongs to you and you alone) wants you to feel the ache of him throbbing between your thighs days after he's made love to you, a constant reminder of what you've done together; wants to leave claiming bruises all over each other's necks so that everyone will know you belong to one another.

You tilt your head back, bearing your neck in offering, and Sebastian lets out an appreciative groan, swooping down to leave another mark right below the first, fire dancing in his eyes are he pulls back to admire his work.

"Mine," his voice rumbles through you like thunder as he presses the word into your pulse point.

"Yours," you sigh, leaning up to graze your teeth along the column of his throat, eager to claim him in return.

It's enough to drive him over the edge, burying his face in your neck and breathing in deep, greedy lungfuls like you're a burst of fresh air after a life spent drowning, praising you between hungry kisses. How he could gladly spend the rest of his life right here between your legs. How wild you drive him with the sounds you make, the way you call out his name.

"I've wanted to hear you say my name in every possible way — in laughter, in sighs, in gasps…in screams," he says with a prideful smirk as he gives a rough snap of his hips that hits deep enough to pull his name from your throat in a sharp, breathless gasp.

Sebastian lets out a low, throaty chuckle that sends shock waves straight to your core, heating burning every inch of your skin like a shot of Firewhisky as he tells you how badly he wants to watch you come undone beneath him, feel you wrapped around him as your body clings to him, see himself reflected in your eyes as you call out his name, to know that he's the only one who can make you feel like this, take you apart just to be the one that completes you.

The hand that's spent all this time tangled in your hair, gently pressed against the curve of your cheek, comes down to wrap around your waist, tilting your hips upward and pulling you roughly against him, the new angle giving him access to an even deeper sweet spot inside you, each thrust causing the space where you're connected to grind against that sensitive bundle of nerves, sending waves of pleasure radiating throughout your entire body as he keeps a steady, consistent rhythm, buried to his hips between your thighs, building you to climax until you're crashing over the edge, fingers laced with his as you fall together, fluttering around him, pulling him in even deeper, an endless chorus of I love you, I'm so in love with you, I'm yours falling from his lips as he spills deep inside you, calling out your name like it's a sacred prayer and you're his salvation.

Sebastian collapses against you, panting against your neck and pressing lazy kisses to your cheek before rolling to the side to lay on his back. You're barely able to get out a breath before he's pulling you into him, coaxing your head onto his chest, wrapping his arms around you in a protective hold, burying his face into the top of your hair and breathing you in with deep, contented sighs.

The words he'd said to you as he'd fallen over the edge repeat inside your head like a mantra, pulling your lips into a bright, blissful smile.

"Sebastian?" you ask as you snuggle in closer, heart full.

"Yes, darling?" he asks, still breathless but utterly blissed, voice muffled by your hair.

"I love you too."

You feel his whole body relax, exhaling on a long, slow, contented sigh that almost sounds like a sob toward the end, like he's relieved to hear you say it out loud.

"D'you know," he says into the comfortable silence after a few moments, lips pulled into a bright smile as he glances over at you. "I've seen entire ecosystems co-existing inside a single room tonight — bloody hell, I saw a phoenix — and all of that still couldn't even hope to compare to being with you," he marvels, still a little breathless. "To think, we could've been— I mean, two and a half years. I can't believe it took us this long to finally act on our feelings."

You lift your head, a playful look in your eyes as you gaze up at him dreamily.

"We just took the scenic route," you tell him, smiling as you lace your fingers together and press a kiss against each of his knuckles in turn.

Sebastian's chest rumbles with laughter as he nuzzles in even closer, pressing kisses to the top of your crown. You do the same to his chest, charting constellations of your own design in the sun-kissed freckles you find there, falling into a deep, comfortable sleep before you have the chance to name them all.

[lanterns-and-daydreams]

✨INTRODUCTION ✨

Hello, love! Welcome to my blog!

Name: 8-1-13-14-1-8

(Hint: corresponding letter!)

Age: P

(Hint: corresponding number!)

Favourite color: Blood Red and Emerald Green

Current occupation: Grayson Hawthorne's wife <3

Pronouns: she/her

I love-> reading, drawing, listening to music, poetry, writing stories, glitter, cats (my favourite breed are ragamuffins), cat memes, Grayson Hawthorne, Cardan Greenbriar, puzzles, riddles, mysteries in general, sunsets, sunrises, forests, the smell of books, pens, paper, violins, ballerinas, stars, the moon, creepypasta, anything related to space and a lot, LOT, more

Some facts about me:

I hate mushy foods

I know a lot of useless facts about random things

I refuse to approach new people but end up doing it anyway because I can't telepathically make them talk to me first

My favourite word is Decay (🔪)

I wanna learn how to play the violin and the piano

I wanna learn how to do the waltz and ballet

I really like photography

I can do traditional dances

Im Pakistani

It makes me very happy when cats look at me

I have licked copper sulphate before

No, i didnt go to the hospital

I love sweets and red velvet cake

I wanna live in Edinburgh

I can slay a winged eyeliner and I'm proud of it

I love mehndi (henna)

I love painting my nails

I can speak Urdu, English, Sindhi, and Punjabi and a lil bit of Spanish

Books I've read: The Folk of the Air series, The Inheritance Games series, Legacy of gods, Throne of Glass series, the grishaverse, the cat and mouse duet, City of Bones series, How to Kill a Mockingbird, Twilight, The Song of Achillies, Red, White and Royal Blue, Percy Jackson, Heroes of Olympus, Trials of Apollo, Camp Jupiter Classified, The Silent Patient, Once Upon A Broken Heart, The Hunger Games, and many many more

Books I'm going to read: A good girl's guide to murder, The Darkverse, Light lark, Powerless, Caraval series, The Empyrean series, Immortal Dark, I Fell In Love With Hope, every other Rinaverse book, Zodiac Academy, Shatter Me and a bajillion more <3

Tagging:

@never-enough-novels (Bhaavya, my first mutual and one of my best and favourite friends <3. Ilysm, girl)

@hearthown (Vivi, my absolute favourite person, I love your blog, and I love that we're friends. My other best and favourite friend. Ilysm <3)

@shuhuaspookie (ARIA ILYSM YOURE ADORABLE AND I ENJOY OUR TALKS AND I LOVE WHEN YOU TELL ME ABOUT YOUR DAY AND I HOPE WE STAY FRIENDS FOR A LOOOONGGGG TIME. LOVE YOUR CAT MEMES)

@f4iry-bell (SNI, DARLING, IT'S SO FUN TALKING TO YOU AHHHHHHH. LOVE THAT IM YOUR POOKIE, YOURE ALSO ONE OF MY FAV MUTUALS)

@berryzxx (mf ur fics are live laugh love. First muslim moot, Ilysmmmmm)

@ilov3b00kss0much (Sunny, hi! It's so nice knowing you, and I would love to get to know you more!)

@x-liv25-jamieswife (LIV MY WIFE. ILYSM. Talking to you is actually so fun I'm not even kidding. ALSO I LOVE UR HCS 👹)

Additionally: Hajirah! Hi! Can't tag you, but I would also love to get to know you more! Absolutely love that you reached out to me

Tagging people I'd like to get to know/get to know better:

@lyrakanefanatic @reminiscentreader @sophiesonlinediary @reyna-obsessed @mafiasliege @riddles-n-games @nqds @ilyiwdtpyiwmyhmtkys @pink-mask-06

Divider: courtesy of @cafekitsune

[froottalks]

Elegance Unveiled - Lena Luthor x fem!reader

[summary: where reader is lena's assistant and has a huge crush on lena, reader later sees lena in a beautiful dress at a gala and panics, they later share a moment together and lena kisses the reader.]

Masterlist

The halls of L-Corp were a constant buzz of activity, but amidst the chaos, you found solace in the presence of Lena Luthor. As her dedicated assistant, you admired her brilliance, her grace, and the way she navigated the complexities of her family's legacy. What others saw as coldness, you perceived as a shield that protected her from the world.

The more time you spent with Lena, the deeper your feelings grew. A simple smile from her could brighten your day, and every interaction left you longing for more. You kept your emotions hidden, fearing that your affection would jeopardize the professional relationship you treasured.

The annual L-Corp gala was the talk of the city, and you found yourself in the midst of its preparation. As Lena's assistant, you were tasked with ensuring the event went off without a hitch. The night of the gala arrived, and you watched from the sidelines as Lena greeted guests with effortless charm.

But when Lena emerged in a stunning dress that accentuated her elegance, your heart raced, and panic clawed at your chest. The sight of her beauty was overwhelming, and you realized that your feelings for her had deepened beyond your control.

Amidst the glamour and the glittering lights, you stole a moment of respite in a quiet corner. But as Lena's gaze found yours across the room, your heart skipped a beat. She approached with a smile that held a hint of familiarity.

"(Y/n), you've been working tirelessly," she said, her voice soft but warm.

You managed a nervous smile, attempting to conceal your racing heart. "It's all worth it to see the success of the gala."

Lena's gaze lingered, and you felt an unspoken connection between you. "You look exquisite tonight," she commented, her eyes tracing your form.

A blush tinged your cheeks as you looked away from her captivating emerald eyes and stammered a thank you, your heart pounding in your ears. Was it just you or was it suddenly too hot in there?

As the night continued, you found yourself drawn to Lena's side, your conversations becoming more intimate. The connection you had tried to suppress was undeniable, and it seemed that Lena was equally drawn to you.

As the gala reached its peak, Lena took your hand, leading you to a quieter spot away from the crowd. The moon's soft glow bathed you both in an ethereal light, and Lena's gaze held a mixture of vulnerability and longing.

"(Y/n), there's something I've been wanting to say," Lena began, her voice tinged with sincerity. "I've noticed the way you look at me, the way your presence brings me comfort."

Your heart raced as Lena's words hung in the air, hope and uncertainty warring within you.

Lena's fingers gently lifted your chin, her touch sending shivers down your spine. "And I want you to know that the feelings are mutual."

Before you could respond, Lena leaned in, her lips meeting yours in a kiss that was both tender and passionate. Time seemed to stand still as you shared a moment of unspoken connection, the weight of your emotions finally acknowledged.

The gala came to an end, and you found yourselves on the rooftop, the city's lights twinkling below. Lena's hand was entwined with yours, and the silence between you was comfortable, filled with unspoken promises.

"Is this real?" you whispered, your gaze never leaving Lena's.

She smiled, her expression a mixture of contentment and certainty. "It's as real as the stars above us."

THE END

[the-jewel-catalogue]

Royal Ascot | Day 3

Thursday was Ladies’ Day, so what better occasion to wear the Ladies of India Brooch? This carved emerald brooch, with its diamond border and accents, is a legacy from King Charles’s great-grandmother, Queen Mary.

The carved emerald brooch was a gift to Queen Mary during the Delhi Durbar in 1911 from a committee of women called the Ladies of India. The large emerald is carved on both sides, with a rose on one side and additional floral designs on the other. The jewel is set in silver and gold, with a diamond border and four additional diamond brilliant accents.

Zara accessorized with a lovely pair of modern pearl drop earrings. The pendant section of the earrings features a chain-link construction.

Sophie accessorized with a pair of crescent-shaped earrings that appear to be set with diamonds and pearls, as well as a necklace with a gemstone pendant.

Lady Sarah dipped into her collection of royal heirloom jewelry for Ladies’ Day. She wore the diamond starburst earrings that belonged to her late mother, Princess Margaret, paired with a diamond and pearl star brooch that also comes from Margaret’s collection.

[glittering-moonlillie]

Tightrope (Damian Wayne x LOA! Reader)

Warnings: Heavy mentions of abuse, a few curse words. I made this more hurt comfort rather than angst, I'm sorry :<

Summary: Ever since the both of you were younger, you taught Damian the importance of hope and - even if it took years - he was more than happy to help you believe in it again. 

Word Count: 4085

Hope; it was the essence that life was built upon, the attribute that humans cling to in times of despair and grief. It was the shining light at the end of the dark tunnel, the soldier who - with gritted teeth - flipped off the dictator of life and continued to fight, bloodied, bruised and all. 

All you ever did was hope: hoped for a brighter future, hoped for control, hoped to explore and create rather than neglect and diminish. Whether it was in the middle of training, while you were sleeping, or studying, hope was the hidden deity you worshiped with every fiber of your little body. 

As you grew older, it was apparent that you were not born in the correct body. Your mother was a top assassin in an organization called The League of Assassins. She was taught to be a ruthless killer in order to serve the League’s higher purpose - to achieve balance in the world and create environmental harmony through slaughtering most of humanity. Instead of crafting, she helped to steal the lives of thousands, ripping them away from the world with precision. 

It was a responsibility of your mothers to be “the fang that protected the head,” which now meant it was your responsibility as well. From an early age, you were shaped to be a weapon. Your mother’s hands carefully molded your clay body, her expert hands knowing what ridges to smooth and what areas to sharpen. 

But the clay was too stubborn, too hard for her to mold perfectly, and resulted in a dull clump that was useless. One could imagine the disappointment of your mother, who served to be Talia’s right hand woman. When you were born, everyone expected you to have the same instinctual skill as your mother - the ability to contort into the shadows like a lethal chameleon with the ease of a slithering cobra, not to be some mindless dreamer. 

You were useless in combat compared to your mother; the grip on your weapon would always waver and your feet would sway at the thought of killing someone. You always ended up being one of the first spotted in the League’s version of Hide and Seek and subsequently faced harsh punishment. Logically, you weren’t the most competent war strategist either. Sure, you weren’t an idiot, but planning a tactical win against a horde of ninja’s was not your forte. 

And you would never be able to calculate the trajectory you would need to throw a shuriken in order for it to slice someone’s neck. 

A people pleaser at heart, you certainly tried your best to be who your mother wished you to be. Despite your heart wanting to hurdle itself away into the night sky so it could be at peace with the stars, it was trapped in this monstrous clay construction, doomed to kill - doomed to serve. 

Wake up. 

Train. 

Eat. 

Train. 

Meditate. 

Study.

Train. 

Eat.

Shower. 

Sleep. 

Repeat. 

Life was a broken record, repeating its meaningless tune to an empty audience. So you hoped. You eagerly wished for some sort of reprieve, searched for a meaning more than destruction with frantic hands and wild eyes until you struck gold. Soon, your hope bloomed into a boy. 

Damian was the son of Talia Al Ghul, with a soft face and forest green eyes, the raven black hair atop his head swooping to the right. He shouldered the weight of his family, his legacy and it showed. His confidence was as lustrous as an emerald. By the age of nine, he could easily take down every single member of the league (with the exception of his family) and had the tactical brilliance of Sun Tzu. 

Damian was not known for his kindness, no one in the League was. You were all raised to be merciless killers, mercy would only display weakness and get yourself killed. Damian seemed to detest everyone in the League, so it puzzled you as to why someone like him decided to show you kindness. 

Due to your inept nature, most leaguers often mocked you for your incompetence in battle. Their insults were displayed on your body like intricate cave paintings. Damian was the only exception, the radiant diamond that made you feel like the luckiest person. You weren’t sure if it was out of pity or sympathy, but he quickly became your one and only friend. 

His touch was delicate, as if he were grasping at the stem of a dandelion in order to preserve a wish. Words fell out of his mouth like an uplifting melody. Damian made it his personal mission to train you himself, if not to serve the League, than to at least protect yourself properly. You made it your mission to instill the same hope that burned through your bloodstream.

Training sessions that were filled with monochrome decay suddenly overflowed with special secrets and inside jokes between you and Damian - stories shared, wishes whispered, and dreams dreamt in the massive room that instantaneously felt too cramped. It felt like stealing bits and pieces of your childhoods back, simultaneously feeling enough yet not enough at all. 

The first genuine smile Damian gave you felt like you were just given the keys to a whole kingdom. There was something so uniquely special about it, as if you just discovered the end of a rainbow. He had a couple of missing teeth that you assumed would grow back in a few months, eyes crinkling for what seemed to be the first time ever. 

You expressed to him your desire to leave behind the legacy of your mother, to become a leaf swept up by the wind instead of being the bark that stubbornly grew its roots in one spot since at least the leaf would experience more of life than the tree ever will, even if it becomes brittle rust within a few days. 

More than anything, you wished to be swept away by the wind, the tide, anything would do really. 

He confided that he, deep down, wished to spend his days painting and growing a menagerie of rescued animals instead of living in the shadow of his mother and grandfather. But unlike you, he was also committed to proving himself and making a difference. He was the very best of the best, and his talent would be wasted if he were just a measly painter. 

Just as he trained you to fight properly, you encouraged him to pursue what he wanted, even if it went against everything else he was taught. 

After a few years of growing with each other, blossoms of a strong admiration and affection began to develop. Despite knowing loving him would face scorn, it was hope that made you believe you had a chance.

“I promise you, when I am in charge, you will be able to leave this place anytime you please.” He said to you, giving you that wicked smirk he always did when he was awfully proud of himself.  

  Damian covertly fashioned a simple promise band that day. It was made of softened branches, braided with the delicacy of hair. Tangled between the braids were small baby’s-breath, winking at you as the sun illuminated their features. He slipped it on your ring finger, as if it was a proposal, as if the two of you had a choice all along. 

The ring used to be a sign of innocent childhood romance, the physical embodiment of your hope. You used to clutch it tightly, wearing it with pride wherever you went, not knowing that life was sneaking up behind you to violently snatch it away with its bony hands and cold grasp. 

Now it just hung loosely around your neck, tucked underneath your clothes and hidden from the sunlight. You had walked the fine line between hope and delusion and it was only when Damian left that you realized you had been worshiping gods who would never hear your pleas. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gotham city twinkled under the guidance of the waxing moon, and for a moment, it almost looked beautiful. But it was a city where crime never slept, where screams echoed and smog filled the air. It was a constant reminder of why Damian will keep fighting, even if his body aches, even if he is beaten down time and time again. 

His purpose was to protect and save people, and he would do so even if it killed him. He was so eager to succeed, to strive and be better that it sometimes blinded him. But it was better than facing failure; it tasted of rotten fruit and bitter mugmort and he was not jumping at the chance to taste it again. Letting someone die was worse than making the choice to kill someone. 

Perched on one of the gargoyles, the stone withering from the constant downpours, Damian allowed himself to be consumed by the thought of you. You never belonged somewhere like the League of Assassins, and Damian used to find it amusing. A group of highly skilled killers and one girl who only longed to be a professional dreamer, to soar the skies instead of being trapped in a steel cage - a girl that reminded him that there was more to life than just fulfilling a legacy. The last time he talked to you was almost a decade ago. He recalls the exact way your smile disappeared, the way the sunlight in your eyes was swept away by dark, foggy clouds. 

Remembers how he swore to come back for you, only to be told you were killed right before he came back. Heartbreak consumed him then and it only worsened with time. Despite lashing out on everyone, Damian knew deep down it was his fault. 

That is why he fights. 

But tonight, Gotham was mostly quiet. Damian’s shoulders fell as he let the rain wash over him, letting the tension melt away. The night was growing old and since there was nothing amiss, he decided it best to retire for the night. 

Making sure not to misstep, Damian got up and lifted himself onto the rooftop of the industrial building, gripping the grappling hook and preparing to swing himself to safety. 

The hook latched into the darkened building, allowing Damian to swing across. Tainted air filled his lungs, settling into his body with a delicate sting, wind whipping angrily through his hair. It was the closest Damian ever felt to flying, to touching the same blue canvas you wished to be a part of. 

A loud snap ripped through the air, and before Damian could react, he was rolling on the floor and bumping into a putrid dumpster. Damian grimaced. The pavement sweated with grime, making it more of an  inconvenience for him to jump back up and assess the damage done. 

The cord of the grappling hook had split in two but the cut seemed too precise with the frayed ends sticking up equally, meaning that the rope did not just snap; it must have been cut with something sharp enough to slice through enhanced nylon. 

Damian dropped the rope and slinked back into the corner, his eyes squinting through the dark. He watched the shadows cautiously and slowed his breath to a faint whisper; the grip on his sword tightened until his knuckles turned a pale white. 

There was a faint scurrying to his right, almost like a rat or another small rodent but the weight of each step did not match. The light steps progressively got louder, allowing Damian to step into the correct fighting stance. 

He caught the small shuriken between his fingers as it whirled towards his face “Tt, whoever you are, you are absolutely terrible at sneaking up on people.” He tossed the weapon to the grimy floor. “Reveal yourself.”

A person languidly stepped out from the darkness -  a walking shadow - with the only light reflected being from the glint of a palm sized weapon, most likely a dagger. Judging from the person’s curves and movement, he assumed they were a woman. If this was his mother’s doing, this would have been the first time she sent a woman after him. 

“Who are you?” He inquired, voice coarse and echoing across the walls of the alleyway. Instead of an answer, he was met with the sudden charge from the inexperienced assassin who’s blade barely grazed his cheek. Damian grabbed the woman’s forearm and twisted it, using his other arm to keep them at a safer distance as she tried to swing the dagger (incorrectly) at him like a magical wand. 

The woman grunted in pain, letting the dagger drop to the floor with a deafening clank. Letting her forearm go, Damian lightly kicked the person to the floor, pushing a fraction of his weight onto the solar plexus. He glared down, his eyes scanning the slick, black material and immediately recognized it as the one he was forced to wear when he was younger.

So his mother did send this person after him. 

“P-please…” It was a hushed mumble mixed together with the person’s frantic breaths. His eyes scanned again and he noticed the way the woman’s eyes were thin and constricted, examining him as he was her. The terrified look on her face seemed familiar, like something from a hazy dream or an old scrapbook. For a split second, Damian thought the person looked awfully similar to you, only for the thought to be immediately swept away as soon as it appeared. It couldn’t be you, you died. 

“Who are you?” He asked again, lightening the pressure of his foot. “Why did my mother send you after me?”

She continued to thrash around and murmur incoherent words, causing Damian to grumble. “If you aren’t going to answer me, I may as well dispose of-”

Before he could finish the empty threat, the hair of the woman, which shifted out of the shawl covering most of the face, leaked out like a tube of acrylic oil. The shade…it was similar to yours as well…

His heart began to leap in the air, long-forgotten hope pumping from his heart to his brain. He completely shifted his weight off of the woman and slowly leaned down. 

Of course, this could have been chalked up to wishful thinking and mindless absurdity. But he, deep down, wanted to believe, to hope. 

“I won’t hurt you…” He said softly, reaching out to the shawl. He tugged at it to reveal  a mess of hair the color of his wishes, prayers, and dreams combined. 

A few tears ran down the cheeks of the stranger, the fabric of the mask covering their mouth absorbing the liquid almost immediately. “D-don’t…shouldn’t…shouldn’t know who I am…”

“Why not?”

“I-I…you…” She paused, averting her eyes up to his once more. “Your mother wants you back in the League.” She finished, her gentler voice turning rigid and empty like a robot. 

“I’ve told her once that I do not wish to be part of her League. I’m not sure how many times I need to make this explicitly clear to her.” 

“No!” She suddenly pounced on Damian, voice quivering as she pressed another shuriken to his neck. “You can’t do that! Please, Damian. You don’t understand, t-the League needs you, I-I….I need to take you home o-or…or else…”

Damian felt his soul tear itself from his body, felt as if every single wound he tried desperately to cover was unearthed and drenched in lemon juice and salt. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to break out into laughter or crumble into tears. 

Dangling between the two was an old and battered ring, decayed with age. Everything began to click together. The hair was the same beautiful shade, the voice was almost the exact melody, even the combat reflected the same clumsy style.

It was you. 

Your eyes wandered down, widening once they saw that the ring escaped the confines of your shirt. You hastily ripped it out of Damian’s view, quickly dropping the artillery and scrambling off of him, your chest heaving. 

“Y/n…” He hesitantly reached for the warmth of your hand, not wanting to let you slip through his fingers again. It was a miracle, a shooting star in the palm of his hand, twinkling with the fiery hope of a phoenix feather. He already lost you once, broke his promise, and he will never let that happen again. 

“You left me…you left me there to die…” You nudged his hand away, refusing to turn towards him. 

“I would never leave you there to die! I came back for you a few months later once I convinced my father and I was told you died on a mission! They said your mother did not want to revive you because you were useless!” He argued. 

Damian reached for you again, desperately, the need to see you smile for him, because of him overrunning every sense of logic he normally abided by. Your shoulders were tensed as the rest of your body trembled, managing to break Damian’s frigged heart even more. 

“I looked for you everywhere. I almost killed every single person in that fucking building when they said you were murdered, as if it did not matter.” He said in a broken mutter. Damian let his arms wrap around your neck loosely, resting his chin delicately on your head. “I’m sorry, Y/n…I…I failed you.”

You placed your jittery hands on top of his and clutched them just as you did when you were both younger. The sleeves of the assassin attire fell down to your elbows, exposing branches of lighter skin, twisting and curling like cruel birthmarks. “What happened to you?”

Damian couldn’t help but trace the scars with his index finger, counting how many he noticed. Blood trickled down his lip as he tried not to let rage cloud his judgment. 

“When you left…m-my mother…she…” As tears slipped down your cheeks, Damian couldn’t contain the urge to gently kiss them away the same way he did the day he left. “Training became more intense…I was sent on more missions and…and every time I failed…”

Your voice trailed off, replaced with painful cries. “I-If I don’t bring you back…if you don’t rejoin the League again she might actually kill me…” 

Damian watched as you erratically took off the first layer of clothing, revealing a plethora of scars along your arms and neck, down to your clavicle.Whatever restraint Damian clung onto vanished as easily as a swift slice; a bomb ticking down to its demise would have been more nimble. 

“They won’t be getting away with this.” Damian got up, dusting off the filth on his pants, a plan formulating in his mind. He could call up Jason who would definitely not mind killing off some Leaguers who stepped out of line. He will call his father as well and they’ll discuss negotiations for your release. You could be safe with him, with his family. He would be able to grant you your every wish and desire, exactly how he promised. 

You tugged on his sleeve. “Damian…I can’t…I have to take you home. Please, I already know I can’t fight you.”

“I am not going anywhere, Y/n, and neither are you. I told you I would free you from the League when I was nine, and I plan to keep that promise.” He managed a soft smile, hoping that it would ease away the creases on your countenance, to paint over your frown and replace it with moonbeams and sunlight. He wanted to restore the hopeful blaze in your eyes.

Your frown only deepened. “Damian, you don’t understand, I can’t. I can’t run, I can’t escape.”

You shook your head, attempting to wipe away the tears in vain. “The happy ending that I wished for, it was stolen from me, Damian, and I will never get it back. I was wrong to hope.”  

“If you believed that, then you wouldn’t be wearing the ring I gave you. Y/n, you were the one who told me that I wasn’t tied to my heritage! That I could be whoever I wanted to be and do whatever I wanted to do even if it went against my family's wishes.” He fought back. “I won’t allow someone to throw your life away, Y/n. You have a choice. I can protect you.”

Palming your cheek, Damian pulled you into an embrace. The thought of you going back to someone who would only torture you, kill you, hurt him more than he would ever be able to admit. 

“They’d come after me, Dami. They will hunt me down and off me the moment I let my guard down. I would never be truly free, there would be no point.” You lightly pushed him away from you again, hands resting on his chest. For a moment, he wondered if you could feel the drumming of his heartbeat, the way it raced faster than his mind could keep up with. 

“And you don’t think I can protect you?” He replied, voice softening as he urged his legs to step an inch closer, and then another inch. “I would never let anyone hurt you, not ever again.”

Your eyes met with his own, and Damian hoped that the small glimmer he saw meant he was getting through the years of brainwashing, tugging at the strand of hope he knew you had left in you. Your lips parted slightly only to close a few seconds later. With your shoulders slumped, nose bright red, and cheeks gleaming with tears, you slumped into his arms and began to fully weep. 

It caught Damian off guard to see the intense emotion but it did not make him uncomfortable like it usually did; no, instead he felt a pang of sympathy coiling in his stomach, growing into vines and clawing up his throat and daring him to speak. 

“I’m so scared.” You whimpered, clutching onto his cape as if he were as fair weathered as a butterfly. “I-I…I…”

“I know. It’s alright.” He said. “I’m here.” 

Damian made a mental note to thank Dick for teaching him how to comfort others. He pulled you out of the disgusting alleyway and out into the quiet street. Getting you somewhere safe was his first priority and there was no safer space than Wayne Manor.  

“Where are we going?” 

“My family home. My father will be there and so will some of my siblings. It is absolutely the safest place in Gotham for you.”

The cold air seemed more bearable when the comfort of your hand rested in his. The stirrings of a former childhood crush resurfaced the more he looked at you. Despite that though, he knew it would not be fair to push his feelings onto you. If he did, Damian would be no better than the people who controlled you your entire life. 

“I thought you would have forgotten me by now.” You turned towards him, the edges of your mouth twisting into the first smile he had seen from you in years. 

“Forgetting you would be like forgetting how to paint.” He remarked.

A feeling of calmness wrapped itself around the two of you like a snug quilt. Damian could sense that you were still nervous if the constant swerving of your head at any sudden noise was anything to go by, but every time he made sure to pull you closer to show he was not going anywhere. 

By the time that the both of you reached the Manor, your breath managed to settle into a slower rhythm. Damian watched as your lips formed into an O as you stared up at the daunting Victorian-esque building. 

“I’ve always wanted to visit a castle…” You mumbled under your breath, tipping your head curiously the same way you did when you sneakily read the banned fairytales your mother was avidly against. 

Damian chuckled at the response. “And I always said I would take you to one.”

As he guided you through the Manor, the smile on your face began to appear more vividly. His family was surprised, but once he explained the situation, they eagerly welcomed you with open arms. Damian made sure to have Alfred fetch you some nicer clothes for resting while he held you in his arms. 

Ever since the both of you were younger, you taught Damian the importance of hope and - even if it took years - he was more than happy to help you believe in it again.

Did I reread this again before publishing? NOPE

But did I figure out the read more thingy? HELL YES

I consider this a win lol

[doumadono]

I'm curious about your little poems, they are really interesting! My request is sweet fluff (I don't wanna use provided prompts) and as of character, please do it with maybe Midoriya

SHONEN SONNETS

In the city of heroes, where shadows unfold, Midoriya stands, a heart pure as gold. Bearer of One For All, strength in his core, A quirk of destiny, a legacy to explore.

Born in silence, in the quiet of the night, Yet destined for greatness, his future in sight. Midoriya, a name whispered in the wind, A hero's journey about to begin.

In shadows and echoes, his struggles began, No quirk to wield, just a dream and a plan. Yet, he stood tall, his spirit unbroken, A symphony of courage, a tale left unspoken.

The echoes of All Might, a symbol so grand, A power passed on, from hand to hand. Midoriya, the inheritor of One For All, A beacon of hope, standing proud and tall.

Through battles and trials, his mettle was tested, Each obstacle faced, every challenge bested. Through victories and losses, his story unfolds, In the heart of heroism, where destiny molds.

In emerald eyes, determination glows, A silent promise of a hero who grows. From quirkless whispers to a mighty roar, Midoriya rises, an ever-burning core.

In the tapestry of struggles and strife, Midoriya carved a hero's life. From humble beginnings, he soared on high, A verdant comet streaking the sky.

So, let the stars above bear witness to his story, Midoriya, OFA's heir, in the glow of glory. In the tapestry of fate, where destinies twine, He stands as a beacon, a symbol divine.

Midoriya's story, an anthem of will, A cascade of emotions and a hero's skill. In the tapestry of heroes, he's woven with grace, Izuku Midoriya, a legend to embrace.

[illuminatedquill]

Sabine Wren & Ezra Bridger

Lovely Little Stars

Story Summary: Takes place between Trials of the Darksaber and Legacy of Mandalore. To celebrate Life Day, the rebels at Chopper Base on Atollon are given the day off to relax and enjoy themselves amidst the growing conflict with the Empire. However, Kanan Jarrus has one more lesson in mind for Sabine, who is still coming to grips with the Darksaber.

For @sabezra-life-day-celebration

Sabine trudged over the last sandy dune and finally arrived at the practice area set up for her training with the Darksaber. Kanan was already there, sitting cross-legged, apparently deep in meditation; a steaming cup of fresh caf was held in his hand, the wisps of heat rising tantalizingly in the early morning chill. Despite the arid dunes and barren wastes of Atollon, the planet did seem to have a winter season and a frigid one at that.

Sabine shivered, despite the thick cloak she wore over her Mandalorian armor. She squinted at the caf in the older Jedi's hand and said, "That better be for me, Kanan."

Kanan turned his head towards Sabine, a small smile appearing on his lips. "Ah, Sabine. Was wondering if you were going to show up."

"I haven't decided yet," Sabine replied bluntly. "Depends on if that caf is for me."

Kanan offered it to her. She sipped at it, feeling the warmth and caffeine hit her sleep-deprived system like a blaster bolt.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

Sabine eyed him and said, "This caf is saving your life right now."

Kanan grinned and said, "Thank Ezra for that. I actually forgot to bring it while I was setting up."

"Ezra?" Sabine blinked and looked around the practice area -

A familiar figure was laying on the practice ground, snoring softly.

Sabine snorted. "You brought Ezra here, too?"

Kanan nodded. "He'll be your partner for this lesson."

She groaned. "Kanan. It's Life Day! We have the day off."

"You'll still have your day off, Sabine. That's why I called you and Ezra in so early." He stood up and stretched.

"Ezra!" he shouted.

The young Jedi awoke with a start. "I'm awake! I wasn't sleeping, I was meditating, I promise!"

Sabine laughed. Kanan shook his head, partly exasperated, partly amused. "Ezra, get your lightsaber out. Sabine, you brought the Darksaber?"

Sabine finished the last of her caf and unclipped the ancient weapon from her belt. "Are we practicing forms again?" she asked.

"No. Just a simple sparring session. There's something I need to verify."

Sabine shrugged. "Whatever gets us done quicker." She was very much looking forward to resting in her bunk on the Ghost.

Ezra shook the sleep from his eyes and approached Sabine with a bright smile. "Ready?"

Sabine felt a smile of her own coming on, breaking through the earlier gloom; as always, Ezra's presence here made things more bearable. "I was about to ask you the same thing, goober."

Ezra arched an eyebrow at her. An emerald blade blazed into existence, snapping into a defensive movement.

An obsidian blade hissed from the Darksaber's hilt in response. Sabine held it single-handed, the blade's point aiming at Ezra.

The two friends gazed at each other, waiting.

And then, from Kanan: "Begin!"

Obsidan met emerald in a clash of sparks.

Some time later, Kanan called a halt to the sparring session.

Ezra collapsed onto his butt, panting from the exertion. Sabine squatted down on her haunches to catch her breath.

"Well?" she huffed. "Did you get your verification of whatever it was you're looking for?"

"I did," said Kanan. "You're too direct with your attacks, Sabine. Too predictable."

Sabine rolled her eyes. "I'm Mandalorian. Direct attack is our whole philosophy."

"Yes," said Kanan patiently. "But you need to be more flexible in your movements. You need to wield the Darksaber like it's an extension of yourself."

Sabine frowned. "What do you suggest? More training?"

Kanan grinned and Sabine suddenly had a bad feeling. "Of a sort, yeah."

Zeb suddenly appeared over the hill, bringing a hover-cart with him; on it were two large speakers and Chopper.

Kanan turned to him and said, "Zeb. Right on time."

Zeb nodded at Sabine and Ezra before asking, "Where do you want 'em, Kanan?"

"Just place them down there in the pit, if you please." Kanan pointed out the specific locations and Zeb complied.

Sabine narrowed her eyes at the speakers. "What is this, Kanan?"

"Your lesson," replied Kanan cheerfully. "I need you to loosen up, Sabine."

Ezra appeared next to Sabine, a curious expression on his face. "And how is she going to do that, Kanan?"

"With a dance lesson, of course. No better way to learn grace and fluidity."

Zeb snickered, leaning against one of the speakers. "Oh, this is gonna be good to watch."

Chopper, next to him, whooped in agreement.

Sabine wanted to sink into the ground at that very moment. "Kanan. Please tell me you're joking."

Grinning, Kanan replied, "Nope! I'm gonna have Chop here turn on some winter music appropriate for the Life Day festivities and then you and Ezra are going to dance."

Sabine whirled on Ezra, feeling a blush heating her cheeks in the frigid air. "Did you know about this?" she demanded.

Ezra scratched the back of his head and gave her an innocent look. "Absolutely not."

She jabbed at him with a finger to the sternum. "I do not believe you, Ezra Bridger."

He held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Look, the sooner we do this, the quicker we can get to relaxing, right? I'm right here with you, Sabine."

Ezra gently took her hands in his own and gave an affectionate squeeze. Sabine felt her heart rate begin to settle.

"Fine," she sighed. "Let's give Kanan his show and then be done with it."

Ezra smiled and gave Kanan a thumbs-up.

"Hit it, Chop!"

The speakers came to life and a song began to play.

"This is my winter song to you.

The storm is coming soon,

It rolls in from the sea."

Ezra led Sabine by the hand to the center of the practice area and began to lead her in a slow dance. Sabine felt like her legs had turned to rubber; everything seemed so stiff and ungainly about her all of a sudden.

She turned her head away from Ezra, hoping to hide her embarrassment.

It didn't work.

"Wow," Ezra remarked softly. "This is one of the few times I've actually seen you be bad at something."

She reached up and tugged at his ear, feeling her cheeks blaze at the statement. "Shut up, Ezra."

Wincing, Ezra said, "Ow. Okay, right. Sorry."

"My voice, a beacon in the night

My words will be your light,

To carry you to me."

"This is so stupid," Sabine whispered. "I don't see how any of this has to do with the Darksaber."

Ezra shrugged. They continued to shuffle in an awkward dance around the practice area, trying to sway in tune with the music. Zeb was doubled over in silent laughter.

"Don't worry about the Darksaber. How's your painting coming along?"

The sudden question caught Sabine off-guard. "What?" she asked.

"Painting? I haven't seen you paint in a while. Or draw."

Sabine considered it. He was right; she couldn't recall the last time she had even sketched in her notebook.

"I haven't," she said quietly. "Everything's been happening so quickly and . . I don't know, I guess I forgot."

Ezra turned his head to gaze at her, worried. "You forgot to paint or draw? Doesn't sound like the Sabine I know."

Sabine met his eyes. "I don't know who she is anymore, either."

"Is love alive?

Is love alive?

Is love"

"Sabine . . ."

She shook her head. "All this stuff with the Darksaber and now I have to see my family again soon, Ezra. It's all so much."

"It's a responsibility," he replied. "I understand."

"It's a burden," she countered. "I didn't want any of this. I don't know if I'm capable enough to handle any of it."

She swallowed. "You're all depending on me. You said that you'll follow me. How can you follow me if I don't even know what the next step is? I can barely wield the Darksaber but now I'm expected to rule over my people? How? How can I do that?"

Ezra stopped moving and suddenly enveloped Sabine into a tight hug.

Kanan said softly, "Chop. Stop the music."

The speakers went silent.

Sabine closed her eyes and leaned into Ezra's embrace. All the worry, turmoil, and anxiety seemed to melt away.

"I can't fix it for you, Sabine. This is your burden, as you said. But I promise that I'll be next to you the whole time."

He released her and looked straight into her eyes; piercing blue to her own warm hazel.

"I'll bear it with you. We'll figure out the next step together, okay?"

Sabine blinked away sudden tears. In a watery voice, she asked, "Are you talking about the dance?"

Ezra laughed. "Of course." Her friend turned back to Kanan and said, "Hey, what happened to the music? It was just getting good."

Chopper twittered in reply and the speakers blared to life again.

"They say that things just cannot grow

Beneath the winter snow

Or so I have been told."

Ezra held out his hand in a formal gesture. "May I have this dance, my Lady Wren?"

Sabine smiled through the tears. "You may," she replied, reaching out in return.

They took a turn -

Ezra tripped and fell flat on his face.

Sabine gazed at him for a long second, eyebrows raised.

Grimacing, Ezra sat back up and muttered, "Go ahead. It's fine."

She collapsed in laughter. Ezra grinned sheepishly at her. When she was finished, Sabine reached out her hand to her friend.

"Feeling better?" he asked with a smile.

"Yes." And it was true; she was. Whatever this silly lesson was, Sabine didn't really care.

In this moment, she didn't need to worry about the Darksaber or her impending family reunion or being the future ruler of Mandalore. She didn't want any of those things.

Right here, right now, Sabine wanted only one thing: to dance with Ezra. That was all that mattered. Those other worries, they belonged to someone else for the time being.

Ezra clasped her hand and rose back up. Locking hands, they listened for the tune, and began to dance together in rhythm.

"They say we're buried far,

Just like a distant star

I simply cannot hold."

Hera came to check up on them later.

"There you are," she said to Kanan. He was observing the practice area below, watching the two teenagers dance. "They'll be having a feast down in the main hangar soon - what's going on here?"

"Dance lesson," Kanan replied. "Part of Sabine's training."

Hera arched an eyebrow. "Dancing? What's that supposed to teach her?"

"How to loosen up, mainly. She's been through a lot. I wanted to give her a chance to blow off some steam."

Hera turned her eyes to Sabine and Ezra below; Ezra twirled Sabine around with surprising finesse. The young woman let out a delighted laugh in response.

In the corner, next to a speaker, Zeb was doing a weird shuffle dance with Chopper. Hera giggled at the sight.

"Seems to be working," Hera remarked. "Is this a Jedi thing?"

Kanan scratched his beard idly. "Sort of. We had classes. Learned different dances from various cultures; it was to help us become tuned to the Force and learn how to flow within it."

"This is my winter song.

Life Day never felt so wrong,

'Cause you're not where you belong -

Inside my arms."

"Dancing, huh." Hera watched the two young people dance with envious eyes. "I remember such a thing."

Kanan sighed. "It's easy to forget how young they are, sometimes. There's so much weighing on Sabine. I wanted to give her a chance to just . . . forget about it. For one day."

Hera smiled fondly at Kanan. "You're a good man, Kanan Jarrus."

Kanan flashed her a quick smile. "Actually, it was Ezra's idea."

Hera's eyes widened in surprise. "Ezra? Our Ezra?"

He barked out a laugh. "Yeah, it surprised me, too. He noticed that Sabine was being more reclusive than usual. She also wasn't drawing or painting as much anymore."

"Dancing, though? Sabine's out of her element for that."

"So is Ezra," Kanan pointed out. "He wanted them on even footing for her to open up. They both get embarrassed. She's been having such a hard time with the Darksaber, especially with Ezra actually being better than her at something for once. He didn't want that for this."

Hera shook her head in amazement. "He really does pay attention to her."

"She's special to him," Kanan replied. He was thoughtful for a moment and then added quietly, "And he's special to her."

She cocked her head at Kanan. "What do you mean? Ezra's special to Sabine?"

Kanan didn't answer. Instead, he just said, "Let them dance some more, Hera."

"I still believe in summer days.

The seasons always change,

And life will find a way."

Hera sighed and sat down next to Kanan. "Don't understand why you Jedi always have to be so cryptic."

Kanan grinned. "Perks of the job," he replied.

Through the Force, he watched Sabine and Ezra dance and dance.

Their presences were radiant; their auras glowed so brightly together in the Force, like twin beacons in the night.

Like lovely, little stars.

He smiled, feeling content. Whatever came next, Sabine and Ezra would be together to face it.

Author's Note: Still on my Hadestown kick. The song lyrics are from their cover of Winter Song, originally by Sara Bareilles and Ingrid Michaelson. I don't know if this story turned out well; I just wanted an excuse to write a story that features Sabine and Ezra dancing together. Hope you like it.

[princess-of-the-corner]

SonicAU . . . I guess??

Honestly, I just need To share this so it’s out of my head, but I’d love to hear some thoughts! Also, will never do anything with it, so, it’s up for grabs!

So, several THOUSANDS of years into the future, most of Sonic & Co are dead, and have passed into legend. Like, they were clearly real people, but so much time has passed that most people consider their adventures a bit exaggerated, ya know? Like, the events surrounding them HAPPENED, clearly, but most people think they were blown a little out of proportion, or were actually more mundane phenomena that wasn’t well understood at the time. The planet didn’t REALLY break apart! Chaos wasn’t some giant dragon thing, probably just a massive wave! A hedgehog? Running at super sonic speed? Well, THAT seems unlikely! That sort of thing.

Anyway, this a Cyber!Punk/Star Trek future, where we all have crazy tech based off of synthetic Chaos Energy, a lot of it pioneered by Prower Technologies (the company started by Miles “Tails” Prower, still going strong). One of the current “heirs” to Prower Tech, is Kilamitra “Trip” Prower (trip short for triple), the three-tailed, several times great-granddaughter of Tails. She doesn’t really WANT to take over the company, and instead wants to join The Chaos Corp, sort of like the Federation from Star Trek, mixed with a bit of Voltron (mostly the Legendary Defender part). When she does, she ends up meeting-

“Kicks”, the grandson of Knuckles, (I like to think Knuckles has an extended lifespan, thanks to the Master Emerald, so the generations between his kids are fewer) whose older sister is a commanding officer in the Chaos Corp, and who wants to prove himself to his family. Unlike most of his family’s penchant for punching things, he prefers kicks (obviously).

Ora, daughter of Silver, (finally stopped time-travelling, settled down, had kids) who’s struggling to control her telekinetic powers. Since they aren’t as reliable for her to fight with, she also wields a giant hammer, or club.

Marianne “Sunny” Kintobor, somewhat distant descendant of Eggman, hoping to fight against the reputation her ancestor stuck their family with. A tech genius. One of the few human/“uplander” characters. Looks very like Maria Robotnik.

A very mysterious black & red hedgehog, called “Dark”, who seems to be hiding something. He has a friend called “Sage”, who will call him often.

And finally, Nikki. A blue Hedgehog who has spent her whole life hiding the fact she can run faster than the speed of sound. Nikki actually doesn’t know who her family is - she was found alone as a baby, and was presumed to be abandoned. She is cagey about her speed, and seems to want to keep it on the down low.

So, only other things that popped up:

- The initial big-bad would absolutely be an Eggman fanboy wannabe, who really wants to be the next Robotnik, but, ya know. Successful. Probably not ACTUALLY related to him in any way, but that isn’t stopping him from CLAIMING he is. Marianne is adamant they are NOT related.

- Dark is Shadow. In case that wasn’t obvious. Turns out being the “Ultimate Lifeform” makes you functionally immortal, which has been … rough. Watching your friends outlive you isn’t exactly FUN. He ended up fairly close to Knuckles, who aged much slower, but it was still hard. He’s had periods of time where he’s separated himself from civilization, and periods of activity but most recently, he’s heard whispers about the Chaos Corp, about something big being worked on, and came out of isolation to investigate.

- Sage, being an artificial being, is ALSO functionally immortal, and took it very hard when her dad, Eggman, died. She tried for a while to keep up his legacy, but her heart wasn’t in it, and eventually she retreated with the few bots of Eggman’s that were still functional. Eventually, mostly through chance, she encountered Shadow, and the two bonded over their long lives, and what that meant for them. They’ve spent a lot of time together, and are now quite close. Their relationship is very brother and sister, with the pair often teasing and fighting with each other, but also very protective of one another. When Shadow went to infiltrate the Chaos Corp, Sage accompanied him. She is actually hiding in a special watch she developed, that Shadow wears, which lets her get into all sorts of tech, as long as she’s in range. She has VERY complicated feelings about Marianne.

- Nikki is, in fact, Sonic’s descendant … technically. She would be counted as Sonic’s daughter, but is actually an attempt at a clone. Sonic DID have kids, but his family in general was actually much more low-key, and most of them took after the mom (Amy? Sally? Rando?) so didn’t have the super speed. Someone *cough*Eggman Wannabe*cough* tried to clone Sonic from old samples, but had to do some genetic gymnastics to have a viable fetus, so Nikki is closer to a daughter than a clone (I mean … that should be pretty obvious? Unless you subscribe to Trans!Sonic, in which case, more direct clone). When someone in a position of power learned of the cloning attempt, they raided the lab, but Nikki was “sent away”. She was later found, put in the system, and adopted. Her name comes from a medical bracelet she was wearing - SONIC-I. The first two letters were smudged out, and the C with the dash looked like a K, the one like a capital I, so, Nikki. 

- current Sonic descendants actually work as historians and archaeologists. Their family is still close with the Prower family, and recently, became connected through marriage.

- the Chaos Corp is so named because they guard the Chaos Emeralds and Master Emerald. Knuckles was the original founder, when he realized he was going to get older, and before he had found someone to settled down with, or had kids. They have devices that let some of their more seasoned members use a single Emerald to boost them, but this can be dangerous, and possibly fatal without the right training. Still, being an “Emeraldeer” is seen as a very prestigious position, and the one many cadets gun for. There has been a recent, rather rapid shift in leadership, which is giving a few people pause, and there are rumours about a project to “bring back heroes” …

(thoughts, feelings, opinions?)

-

OH I ADORE THIS

[satansapostle6]

Lovers and Liars | Draco Malfoy

Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott, both determined and resourceful from reputable houses, find themselves at odds in the name of love.

Warning: Mature themes/language. Violence. Sexual content.

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One: Legacies

Months had gone by, and Draco and Lorelei were still tense as they watched the Second Wizarding War unfolding before their eyes. Draco knew that the time for getting ahold of the prophecy regarding the Dark Lord was coming closer and closer. Draco could hardly admit it, but he was anxious to learn how his father and the other Death Eaters would go about baiting Harry into stealing the prophecy.

Draco and Lorelei had both been uneasy after returning to Hogwarts for their second semester. But still, the two of them had found ways to maintain their sanity even as chaos between Hogwarts and Dolores Umbridge ensued. Draco, much to Lorelei’s disdain, had joined Umbridge’s Inquisitorial Squad, which took away from much of his time with Lorelei. Draco felt that that was the only downside to being in Umbridge’s good graces.

So, the time that Lorelei and Draco did get to spend together was treated as even more eventful than before. For the first time in weeks, Lorelei was finally able to plan a real date with her boyfriend, one that didn’t take place in the classroom, or in the Great Hall for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Lorelei had been able to secure the Astronomy tower for their date that night, having paid Crabbe five Galleons to stand watch so that no one dared interrupt them, including Filch or Umbridge.

That night, Draco was all hers. Lorelei was determined to give her boyfriend the best birthday he could ever ask for; another night under the stars with the girl whose skin shone as bright and gentle as moonlight.

“June fifth,” Draco Malfoy smiled, holding a glass of elf-made wine Lorelei had enlisted Goyle to swipe from the kitchens. “You remembered.”

“I always do,” Lorelei slowly glanced down at his soft lips, chuckling as he leaned in for a kiss.

“This really is the best birthday present I ever could’ve asked for,” Draco sighed, admiring her custom-made emerald green dress. “You are truly a vision.”

“Well, thank you for noticing,” Lorelei said with pleasure, “But this isn’t the gift.”

He raised an eyebrow curiously. “There’s more?”

“Of course there’s more,” she confirmed, reaching into the picnic basket she’d prepared. “Happy sixteenth birthday… Draco Lucius Malfoy.”

Draco looked up at her mischievously, unsure of what to expect. The year before, a few weeks after his birthday, Lorelei had gotten him Quidditch tickets so that he could attend a game with his father. Draco had no idea how, but he had a feeling that this year, she’d somehow find a way to top that gift. Ready to find out how, he took the carefully wrapped box from her.

“Thank you, my love,” he said cordially as he slowly tore through the silver wrapping paper.

Even though that was the whole point, Draco still felt almost guilty about tearing the wrapping paper, which Lorelei had obviously worked so hard at folding perfectly at the edges. The silver wrapping paper with beautiful black designs across it was elegant and delicate, just like her. Draco carefully unwrapped the box and opened it, amazed by what was inside.

It was a beautiful silver pocket watch, unique in the striking snake carved into the front of it.

“Do you know what that is?” Lorelei asked softly, as he just looked up at her for a moment before trying to place it.

It took a moment for Draco to realize why the pocket watch looked so familiar.

“Wait. I know what this is,” he said, a shocked expression on his face, “How did you even get ahold of it?”

“My mother knows a collector,” Lorelei explained.

“Well. I don’t know what collector could’ve ever come across the pocket watch of the best Quidditch player to ever live, but whoever he is, I could kiss him!” Draco exclaimed, still in shock.

“Is he really the best?” Lorelei wondered.

“I’m not having this argument again,” Draco said, staring at the watch in awe.

“Fair enough. Look inside,” she suggested.

Perfectly willing, Draco flipped open the pocket watch, noticing the small engraving on the inside. He read it with care, seeing the message written for him in the silver clear as day.

“To My Prince”

Draco looked up at her with a proud smile, unable to voice all of his feelings.

“So it can truly be yours,” Lorelei said quietly, unsure of what reaction she’d be getting.

“You are… the best thing to ever happen to me,” he declared with finality.

“Happy birthday, Draco,” she responded, chuckling at the surreal happiness she felt. “I love you.”

“I love you more than anything,” he realized.

Treasuring the perfect gift she’d gotten him, he set it aside carefully as he sat closer to her, arm around her protectively as they sat together, watching the night sky.

“Shooting star,” Lorelei observed, “Make a wish.”

Draco paused for a moment, before looking back at her.

“I made my wish,” he whispered.

“Was it for more of this?” Lorelei asked him. “Because that’s what mine was.”

Draco said nothing, smiling as he went in for a perfect kiss.

*****

“Lorelei… I may have lied to you,” Draco began, as they sat in the Slytherin common room together.

Knowing Draco, this could have been leading anywhere.

“About what?” Lorelei questioned.

Draco grinned, reaching into his pocket. “I may have saved one final Christmas gift for you. I was waiting for the right time to give it to you,” he announced.

“Draco, it’s June! You already got me three!” Lorelei teased.

“No, two of those were for your birthday,” he reminded her.

“Most people just combine them into one single gift for the year,” she pointed out, reminding him that her birthday had just passed on the eighteenth.

“Well. Unfortunately, I’m not most people,” he sighed, offering up the mysterious little black box.

Lorelei finally allowed her charmed smile to shine through, accepting the spontaneous gift as he watched her readily.

“You’re right. You’re not,” she grinned, “I really am dating the soon-to-be most powerful man in the world.”

“Keep talking like that, and we’ll have to go to bed early,” he warned her.

Lorelei hardly felt the need to stifle her excited giggle as she unfolded the black parchment inside the box, revealing one of the most beautiful pieces of jewelry she’d ever seen in her life.

“Draco!” she shouted, unsure of what reaction was even appropriate.

Lorelei had opened her present to find a ring inside, but clearly not just any ring. It was an exquisite ring with what could only be described as a giant stone on it, a stone that she had realized could only be a diamond. Lorelei had no idea how to even react, even despite all the lavish gifts Draco had ever gotten her.

“This is truly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen!” she cried, immediately trying it on for size.

“That’s not just any ring,” Draco told her thoughtfully, “It’s much more than that.”

“How do you mean?” Lorelei wondered, smiling as the ring fit perfectly on her right ring finger.

“I had to unlock a vault for this one,” he explained, looking at the ring on her finger. “It belonged to my grandmother. Viola Malfoy.”

At this, Lorelei looked up at him in shock, understanding for the first time what the gift had truly meant.

“Your grandmother’s wedding ring? You mean the family ring?” Lorelei asked with uncertainty.

“The very same,” Draco nodded.

“But… Your mother never even got this ring,” she reasoned.

“She never wanted it. She saved it, for me,” he explained. “She wanted her son to be able to be married with it. In fact, she’s glad I asked for it.”

“Draco,” Lorelei said after a moment, “You’re not…?”

“Asking you to marry me now?” he deduced. “No, of course not, I just… I just thought you should know that you’re the one I want to give this ring to, someday.”

Lorelei studied him as she happily returned the ring.

“Do you know what today is?” he asked her.

“June twelfth?” she asked tentatively.

“Two weeks before the one-year anniversary of our first kiss,” Draco recited.

“You remember?” Lorelei said in awe.

“Of course I do,” he nodded. “In two weeks, we’ll have been together for one year. And I don’t want to stop there.”

Lorelei couldn’t have thought of anything better as she sat with him, enjoying their time together.

“This ring will be in my family forever,” he said as he returned it to its box, “And so will you. If you want to be.”

“I think I do,” she nodded, a smile on her face.

“Good,” Draco decided, relieved that everything had gone as planned. “I think I like the idea of having my life planned out… Just not quite in the way my parents do,” he admitted.

“You don’t have to judge yourself the way they would,” Lorelei thought as she spoke, “I find I’m the happiest with myself when I think about things the way I want to.”

“You’re right,” Draco admitted, “I just… I don’t know. A part of me feels if they’ve given me everything, the least I can do is do what they want me to with it all,” he expressed.

“That’s not the only choice you have,” Lorelei said.

“What else is there?” he asked curiously.

“You can always just walk away,” she pointed out with simplicity. “Just say no, and jog on.”

Draco looked at her in surprise. He never in a million years would have put those words in Lorelei Morrigan’s mouth.

“Could you?” he asked her.

She considered his question for a moment.

“If I had a good enough reason to,” she nodded. “Yes.”

The thought struck Draco as he took a moment for himself.

“Can I ask you something?” he said out of the blue.

“Anything,” she nodded.

“Would you walk away for me?” he asked.

“Would you ever ask me to?”

“That’s not the question.”

Lorelei paused as she contemplated thoughtfully, letting the idea stew before she trusted her instincts.

“I would,” she answered, leading him to a second question.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked nervously.

“Anything,” she promised.

Draco frowned, not comforted by the response as she tried to find a way not to completely ruin the beautiful serenity of her current disposition.

“I… almost had to decide whether I wanted to walk away,” he said slowly, “For you…”

“For me?” Lorelei questioned, a wrinkle in her brow.

She didn’t want to say it, but her first thought was simply ‘But, I’m a Pureblood’.

“Yes,” Draco nodded slowly, gathering the courage, “You know, at first, in the very beginning… my father wasn’t completely sold on us.”

“‘Sold on us’?” Lorelei picked at the phrasing.

“Yes, he, erm… Didn’t know if he felt you were reputable enough,” he explained further.

“Why?” Lorelei wondered, trying not to sound too critical. “I’m a Morrigan.”

“Yes, and he did say that that was quite impressive… But he was a bit disappointed, at first, that you weren’t, you know… Sacred Twenty-Eight,” Draco Malfoy provided diplomatically.

“Oh.”

It was a quiet, and matter of fact ‘oh’. But still, Draco felt guilty.

“But, he came around fairly quickly,” Draco assured her, “I mean… Considering you’re descended from the Ravenclaws, and such, it wasn’t a hard sell.”

“It’s not certain we’re descended from them,” Lorelei reminded him.

“No, it is,” Draco said.

She sighed exhaustedly. “Perhaps you’re right.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” he reassured her, “My father likes you now. We have his support now.”

“As much as you and Pansy did?” Lorelei rai

The mention of her made Draco grimace.

“I’ll admit, Father was way too attached to that prospect,” he noted, “You know… I think he was one of the few people who found her personality inspiring instead of repulsive.”

“I’ll say,” Lorelei scoffed.

Draco had the most sympathy for the insult.

“Well, at any rate,” she digressed, “I am glad he’s decided I’m worthy of ‘carrying on his bloodline’, or whatever.”

“You’re more than,” Draco replied with confidence, “If I had to procreate with anyone else, I think I’d cut everything off entirely.”

Lorelei couldn’t help but laugh at his dramatic tendencies. Seeing her uplifting smile made Draco laugh at his own joke as well, the two of them more in harmony than ever.

-

Chapter Twenty-Two

[macaroonsims]

12 Dancing Princesses Legacy Challenge

based on the barbie movie. use cheats if you want, complete all generation goals.

***

Gen 1: Princess Ashlyn.

Ashlyn is the eldest of King Randolph and the late Queen Isabella's twelve daughters, since she is the oldest she is the crowned princess or the heiress apparent to the throne. Ashlyn loves to play music, especially the flute. She and her little sisters all love ballet dancing. 

traits: creative, music lover, family oriented.

career: musician

aspiration: musical genius

colour: purple

As the eldest, help raise your younger sisters.

Master piano, pipe organ, violin, guitar, singing, and dance skills.

***

Gen 2: Princess Blair.

The second eldest

traits: animal lover, active, creative

career: vet

aspiration: country caretaker

colour: red

own a cow (there's no horses)

master vet, pet training, and dance skills

max imagination skill as a toddler/child

have a ruby gemstone

buy the brave trait in the rewards store

***

Gen 3: Princess Courtney,

traits: clumsy, bookworm, genius

aspiration: bestselling author

career: writer

master dance and logic skills.

colour: blue

have a sapphire gemstone

***

Gen 4: Princess Delia

traits: active, hot headed, adventurous

aspiration: bodybuilder

career: athlete (any branch)

colour: green

have a twin sister

master athletic and dance skills

have sunflowers in your room

***

Gen 5: Princess Edeline

traits: goofball, active, active

aspiration: joke star

career: comedian

colour: orange

have a twin sister

master comedy, athletic, and dance skills

have a citrine gemstone

***

Gen 6: Princess Fallon

traits: romantic, animal lover, music lover

aspiration: soulmate

career: up to you

colour: pink

master singing, violin (no harps in game) and dance skills

***

gen 7: Princess Genevieve

traits: cheerful, genius, loyal

career: up to you

aspiration: big happy family

colours: pink and white

master dance and logic skills

plant roses in garden

be best friends with your younger sister

have a cat called twyla

***

Gen 8: Princess Hadley

traits: active, outgoing, cheerful

aspiration: extreme sports enthusiast

career: athletic (whatever branch you didn't pick in gen 4)

colour: teal

have a twin sister and be best friends with her

complete the rambunctious scamp (?) aspiration as a child

master dance and athletic skills

***

Gen 9: Princess Isla

traits: active, cheerful, genius

aspiration: any

career: any

colour: lilac

be best friends with twin sister,

master dance and athletic skills

plant lilies in your garden

have an emerald gemstone

***

Gen 10: Princess Janessa

traits: loves the outdoors, self-assured, outgoing

career: politician

aspiration: leader of the pack

have two twin sisters, be be friends with second eldest (you are the eldest triplet)

colour: light blue

have the jonquilyst gemstone

complete bug collection

master dance skill

***

Gen 11: princess Kathleen

traits: cheerful, creative, art lover

aspiration: painter extraordinaire

career: painter (any branch)

have two twin sisters, be best friends with the elder one

colour: light pink

master dance skill

plant daisies in your garden

***

gen 12: Princess Lacey

traits: genius, dance machine, family oriented

aspiration: any

career: doctor

colour: lilac

have two twin sisters, but be best friends with your older sister

plant lilies in garden,

have the amethyst gem stone

master dance skill

[braveclementine]

D.S. x E.M. x K.M. x Reader pt. 6

Warnings: 18+ readers only, Mentions of torture, fluff, angst, mentions of rape, happy 'ending'

Copyright: I do not own any TVD/TO/Legacies characters, nor any places in New Orleans or Mystic Falls that may be mentioned.

Your P.O.V.

I was curled up in Damon's bedroom on the bed with Elijah watching Hamilton on the TV, the musical/play turned up to drown out the sounds of my father- sorry step-dad or whatever- screaming in the basement.

After I'd killed him- his blood had tasted amazing- he'd come back into transition. Klaus pretty much forced blood down his throat. After that, Marcel, Enzo, Kol, Klaus, and Damon had taken turns torturing him for hurting me.

What my dad had done to me had spread throughout the others. Freya, Bonnie, Caroline, Davina Rebekah, Vincent, and even Alaric had taken their own shots at him.

I hadn't expected Bonnie because she was sweet, but she was furious. And I hadn't expected Alaric, but I think he was thinking about his own daughters when he was punched dad in the face.

Freya had a little to much fun torturing dad with magic.

I hid upstairs with only Elijah for company as I wanted nothing to do with dad who wasn't really my dad and also because now I had mixed feelings. Every time I tried hating him, I remembered him flying me over his head at the beach in Florida and all the sweet things we had done before I turned fourteen.

Elijah was one of the only people who cared about me that didn't hurt Dad. Mostly, I think, because he understood I didn't really like it. So he indulged me in watching Hamilton and Harry Potter and Star Wars and whatever else I wanted to watch. We binge watched all the Marvel movies in three days.

"I have an idea." Elijah murmured as the play came to an end- I was crying of course because Alexander was dead.

"Hmm?" I asked, burrowing my head into his T-shirt. Over the few days, he had reluctantly been wearing T-shirts and sweatpants because I wanted him in comfortable clothes instead of fancy. It was definitely a strange sight to see.

I looked up at him when he didn't answer and smiled, tugging at his hair which he was growing out a little.

"I'm going to take you to Orlando." Elijah said, wrapping his arms around my waist. "We can go to Universal studios and your Harry Potter world. And we can visit animal kingdom and magic kingdom and I'll spoil you silly."

I was hesitant, even though it did sound immensely fun. "But all those humans. . . I don't know if I can control myself."

"I'll help you, I promise." Elijah murmured. "But you need to get out of the house."

I nodded because I knew he was right. "Let's bring Caroline and Ric so they can bring their kids too." I murmured. "Ric needs to get out of this house too."

Elijah nodded, "Okay."

We both stared at each other and I asked rather hesitantly, "And. . . Klaus and Damon?"

"We can't force them to come." Elijah murmured.

I fiddled with my daylight ring. The sapphire, emerald, and diamond fused together along with the colours of the bands along with some starlight so keep me from burning during the day. "Why are they still torturing him? It's been a week? Hasn't he felt enough pain?"

Elijah took my face in his hands. His chocolate eyes were so warm and his brown hair that was slowly becoming floppy again made me flush. How did I get gifted with my handsome men? "Personally, I won't touch him because I know you're unhappy with it. But if I could, I would torture him day and night for centuries for hurting you."

Why was my brain arguing with him? Elijah was speaking the truth: he had hurt me. But at the same time. . .

I burst into tears. "I don't understand! Why do I feel the need to defend him? I don't understand! Am I messed up? Elijah please help me!"

Elijah's face twisted in pain, gathering me in his arms, laying back to hold me to him. "He's your father. You loved him once and that's the part that wants to defend you. But Y/N, you know he's hurt you and he's hurt you in a way that you should never have been hurt. You aren't messed up, you're just confused."

"He's not even my father!" I said, pounding on Elijah's chest weakly.

"You believed he was for nineteen years. That's not something you forget overnight."

"Might take a hundred years, yeah?" I asked, smiling weakly, attempting a joke.

Elijah laughed softly, reaching up and cupping my face in his hands, "Yeah."

"When do you want to leave?" I asked, still a little nervous about being in large crowds.

"Well, I was thinking almost no one will be there in January, in a few weeks, cause everyone will be back in school. It would be relatively uncrowded."

I nodded, "That sounds nice. Do you want Hayley and Hope to come too?"

"No." Elijah said with zero hesitation. "But if you want to invite Freya, Vincent, Bonnie, and Enzo you can. They might like the magic of Disney and romance."

I grinned, "That sounds nice. I'll drop suggestions to Klaus and Damon. I would hate for them to think I left them out."

Elijah nodded kissing my temple.

Damon and Niklaus came upstairs as I was putting the next movies series on. I wrinkled my nose, hiding my face in Elijah's shirt at the smell of dad's vampire blood. Elijah put an arm around me.

They stripped their clothes and Damon laughed, "Twilight Y/N? Sparkling fairy vampires."

I scowled into Elijah's shirt.

"Damon leave it." Elijah said curtly.

"Is something wrong?" Klaus' voice was filled with anxiety and worry for me. I smiled a little, looking over at him.

"'Lijah and I were talking about all of us going to Disney as a family." I murmured. "Well at first, just us. But I thought maybe Ric would like to take the kids with Care. And of course, Bonnie and Enzo and Freya and Vincent might like to go as couples."

"Disney?" Damon cocked an eyebrow.

"And Universal studios." Elijah said behind me. "She's been wanting to go to Harry Potter world forever."

I smiled, nodding my head excitedly. "And 'Lijah promised he'd make sure I didn't feed on anyone."

"Well I'm all for it!" Nik said excitedly, clasping his hands together before reaching into the closet for a fresh T-shirt.

"Damon?" I asked hesitantly.

He looked so angry, not at me, but probably at dad. His eyes were distant and his head snapped towards me. "What?"

Elijah's arms tightened around me and I asked, "Do you- do you want to come?"

"I'm going to stay here." He extracted a stake from the top drawer and made his way out of the room again.

I felt sad, leaning against Elijah's arms and Nik read my face, "What's wrong? You know it doesn't mean he doesn't love you just because he's not going."

"That's not it." I mumbled, shutting the TV off and snuggling into Elijah to fall asleep. Nik said nothing more until they thought I was asleep.

"What is it Elijah?"

"She feels conflicted about how you're treating Y/F/N. She thinks he's been hurt enough." Elijah murmured softly.

Nik scoffed, "He hasn't felt enough pain for what he's done to her."

"Nik, if you and Damon don't just kill Y/F/N and get this over with, Damon is going to end up losing her. You might too."

Nik was silent and then said in a very angry voice, "He deserves to feel pain Elijah. He literally had his dick inside of her! He had hands tied behind her back! He had her gagged! And he had a knife beside him! If we hadn't gotten there when we had he might've killed her! He doesn't even feel guilty for it! It's disgusting!"

I peeked my eyes open to see his eyes were now yellow, boring into Elijah's chocolate ones. I quickly closed them again.

"Niklaus, you have to respect what she wants. You're angry that someone hurt her, fine. I am too. But it's also the man she grew up thinking was her father and I think it should ultimately be her decision of what wants to happen. Just rip his heart out and be done with it."

Nik was silent again until he finally muttered, "Fine. The sun's still out anyways."

"Meaning?" Elijah asked with a sigh.

"We'll have a bonfire. I'll invite everyone to come." Nik sounded delighted.

"Very well. I'll be staying here with Y/N." Elijah muttered, running a hand through my H/C hair.

"You don't want to see him burn alive?" Nik asked curiously.

"I do. But I don't want her to wake up alone either." Elijah muttered.

Nik sighed, sounding disappointed. "And here I was thinking you could be the one to light him on fire as you haven't had the pleasure of torturing him yet."

Elijah ignored him. Or at least, I thought he had ignored until he said, "Fine. Let me grab a suit. Maybe Davina will stay with her until I get back."

"I think Davina will like to watch." Nik said. "But maybe."

Nik walked out of the room and Elijah slid from the bed, tucking me under the covers. He kissed my forehead and murmured, "I'll be back soon princess."

And then even he was gone.

I sighed, grabbing a pillow and holding it like a stuffed animal. So they were going to burn dad? Elijah was going to set dad on fire.

No. Not dad.

I thought about what Klaus had said. How he'd been raping me, had tied me up, had possibly wanted to kill me. I sat up quickly. I knew exactly what I wanted to do.

Elijah P.O.V.

I fixed my tie in the mirror, green this time as Y/N had expressed a liking to me wearing green ties. Strange how I had taken into account all her opinions when doing things.

At the moment, Y/F/N was wearing a daylight ring, being held by Marcel and Niklaus. Davina had said she didn't want to miss out on this and so Y/N was left upstairs by herself. It worried me slightly, but Hayley, Elena, and Stefan were in the living room with Hope, Josie, and Lizzy so if she woke up, they'd tell her where we were.

Elena thought we were being absolutely barbaric and was angry with Damon, Caroline, and Bonnie. She blamed Klaus and Enzo for Caroline and Bonnie's eagerness for Y/F/N's execution. Truth was, Y/N was just their friend and they wanted to see her attacker suffer.

Freya and Bonnie bound Y/F/N to the wooden stake that was placed upright by Alaric and Vincent earlier that day.

"Let's get this over with." Rebekah huffed, eyeing Y/F/N with dislike. Alaric was leaning against the tree next to Damon, both of them had bourbons in their hands. They clinked them together.

I sighed, rolling my eyes at the theatrics. This was weird, it felt wrong, but as I looked into Y/F/N's eyes, I saw he had zero regrets there. I touched his hand, going to pull off the ring and saw into his mind. He didn't regret anything, his mind not even focusing on his death, but of all the times that he had fucked Y/N. Her pain, the way that she screamed and begged him to let her go. All because she looked like her mother.

That did it for me. I yanked the daylight ring off his hand, tossing it to Enzo who caught it in one hand, tucking it into his pocket.

Y/F/N started to burn and he started to scream and none of us watched in pity.

"STOP! END IT!" Y/F/N shouted.

Out of nowhere, there was a whistling sound, and a carved stake out of the same wood used to make Y/N's bed back at her own house pierced his heart.

The burning died down as his veins started to shrivel, blood draining as his heart was pierced, and turn gray.

We all spun to see Y/N standing there: blue jeans, purple T-shirt, red jacket, and white shoes. Her hair pulled back in a H/L ponytail. [sorry if you have short hair]. She had flung the stake at him. We all stared in a bit of shock.

"So." She asked with a bit of a smirk, "Can we got to Disney now?"

I relaxed, smiling, "Anything my princess wants."

~Two Years later~

"Y/S/N, get back here right now!" Y/N yelled at our son as he ran towards the road.

Damon swooped in front of him, picking him up under the arms, carrying him back to the house. Klaus, Y/N, and I all sighed in relief.

"You would think we could keep a better eye on him." Y/N grumbled.

The surgery that she had undergone gave her the ability to conceive, also making any children we had either Niklaus'- if we had sex on or around a full moon- or Damon's as he had also undergone the surgery.

Y/N had feared I would feel left out, but I didn't mind truly. In a way, they were still my children too.

She was pregnant again, one of the reasons that she couldn't move as fast as Damon. We found that as she was pregnant, it seemed to make her more human and her vampire senses were cut in half, though she still needed blood and could still move a littler faster than humans and also was still able to compel humans.

Y/S/N yawned in Damon's arms, closing his blue eyes- which he'd gotten from Damon- and fell fast asleep.

"Finally." Y/N muttered, leaning into Klaus' embrace. "I thought I'd have to stay awake for another few hours."

She thought it was her responsibility to take care of the boy 24-7, even when Niklaus, Damon, and I had all told her we would share in the responsibility of raising him.

"Come on love." Niklaus said, kissing the side of her head, "Let's go upstairs shall we."

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Damon asked with a grin.

"You two are insatiable." I mumbled, taking Y/S/N out of Damon's arms.

"They're not the only ones." Y/N grinned, strutting towards me and throwing her arms around my neck, kissing my lips. "Come on Elijah." She tugged on my tie a little.

"Caroline!" I shouted and Caroline appeared from the girls' bedroom.

"Elijah?" Caroline asked, raising her eyebrow, flinging her blond hair over her shoulder in annoyance.

"I thought you should be forewarned that we're heading into the bedroom and we also need someone to watch Y/S/N." I explained.

Caroline smirked, rolling her eyes, jumping over the banister and landing in front of me. "Insatiable bastards."

"Unnecessary comments." I muttered.

"Ric! We're going out!" Caroline shouted, dashing back up to the room.

"Let's go." I said, kissing the side of Y/N's head.

⬅️➡️

[winxanity-ii]

⌜No Hoods Attached | Chapter 23 Chapter 23 | legacy under spotlight⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

It's the day of the grand reveal, the moment when you will step into the limelight as YaNi alongside Taehyung. The air is thick with anticipation as you and Seora glide through the city in the back of a luxurious limo, heading towards the event that will unveil your artistic persona to the world.

You're attending the event as your father's daughter—a daughter of a renowned business mogul.

Your dress is a masterpiece of design and contrast, the strapless bodycon top clinging to your form, offering a stark yet elegant contrast to the light grey, flowy sundress style at the bottom.

It's a garment that captures both the strength and the softness of your emerging artist persona. Two twisted strands of hair gently frame your face, adding a touch of sophistication, while the smokey makeup around your eyes lends a mysterious allure that's hard to ignore.

Seora, your steadfast companion in this whirlwind of emotions, is equally stunning in a dress that seems to have been crafted just for her. The emerald green fabric of her gown cascades to the floor, the hue a perfect complement to her skin tone.

The dress is tastefully accented with delicate embellishments that catch the light with every movement, echoing her vibrant personality. Her hair is elegantly arranged in an updo, showcasing her poised and graceful demeanor.

As the limo draws nearer to the venue, your heart beats faster, each thump echoing the ticking of a clock counting down to your grand entrance. Seora's hand finds yours, her grip reassuring, grounding you amidst the whirlwind of your thoughts.

The limo comes to a halt, and the door swings open, unleashing a blinding assault of camera flashes the chorus of your names being called, creating a surreal cocoon around you.

Seora, sensing your sudden nervousness, squeezes your hand one last time before leaning in to whisper a few empowering words, her voice steady and sure, "You've got this. Just be yourself, and everything will fall into place."

Taking a deep breath, you step onto the plush red carpet, it stretching out before you like a ribbon full of expectations and possibilities. The photographers clamor for your attention, their lenses capturing the radiance that you and Seora exude.

You're not just walking the carpet; you're owning it, your confidence bolstered by Seora's unwavering support.

Tonight, you're not just your father's daughter; you're an artist ready to claim her space in the world of music. Together, you navigate the sea of cameras and microphones, your responses measured, your smiles genuine. As you make your way through the throng of celebrities, you spot some of South Korea's leading actors—names you've grown up admiring. "Seora, look!" you whisper excitedly, nudging your friend. "It's Kim Soo-hyun! Can you believe it?"

Seora's eyes widen in shared excitement. "Oh my gosh, you're right! And next to him... is that Park Bo-gum? His smile is even more contagious in person!"

You continue along the red carpet, your hushed whispers turning into a flurry of excited chatter. "There's Park Bo-young," you point out, mesmerized by her ethereal beauty. "And look, Seora, it's Lee Min-ho!"

Despite the star-studded environment, it's your poise and grace that draw whispers and admiring glances. Your dress, a blend of classic beauty and modern chic, accentuates your natural allure, making you a subject of photographers' keen interest.

Seora, in her stunning emerald gown, is a vision of confidence and charm, her demeanor as captivating as any seasoned celebrity.

As you and Seora navigate through the clusters of tables adorned with sparkling silverware and crystal glasses, the energy of the venue is electric, buzzing with the chatter of the industry's finest.

The moment you reach your table, Seora's gaze land on a table ahead, where Gong Yoo, her latest celebrity crush, sits looking effortlessly charming. Her enthusiasm is infectious, and you can't help but share in her excitement, even as you remind yourself of the evening's significance for your own career.

Suddenly, Seora's excitement turns into a barely contained squeal as Gong Yoo, sensing the attention, turns to glance in your direction. His smile, warm and inviting, is directed at your table, and for a moment, the entire room seems to fade into the background.

Seora's reaction is comical, a mix of fangirl glee and embarrassment, as she ducks slightly, whispering frantically, "Did he just smile at us? Oh my god, he's even more handsome in person!"

As Gong Yoo politely turns back to his conversation, Seora leans in to whisper, "I can die happy now," her eyes still sparkling with excitement.

You can't help but laugh, the tension of the upcoming performance momentarily forgotten in the light-hearted exchange. Seora's antics provide a much-needed distraction, her ability to find joy in these small moments a reminder of the normalcy and friendship that grounds you amidst the whirlwind of your emerging fame.

Soon, as the announcer—Jackson Wang—takes the stage, the room falls into a respectful hush. His opening lines are eloquent, setting a celebratory tone for the evening, his voice echoing through the grand hall. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to a night of celebration, talent, and artistry," he begins, his gaze sweeping across the room filled with the crème de la crème of the entertainment industry. "Tonight isn't about celebrating it's about..."

As he weaves through the introductory speech with the ease of a seasoned professional, you take the time to look around the stadium. A second later, you find yourself locking eyes with Taehyung. The BTS member, ever so perceptive, catches your gaze and offers a supportive wink paired with his signature boxy smile. It's a simple gesture, yet it carries a world of encouragement.

You can't help but feel a wave of gratitude mixed with nervous excitement wash over you. Taehyung's presence, even from afar, feels like a steadying force, a reminder of the journey you've undertaken together through music and now, this impending reveal. With a deep breath, you return his smile with one of your own.

Refocusing on the announcer, you steady your nerves, the reality of the situation settling in. This is more than just a performance; it's a pivotal moment in your career, a debut in the truest sense.

Drawing strength from Taehyung's support and the countless hours of preparation that have led to this moment, you hype yourself up. "You got this, Y/N. You can do this."

And there, amidst the glamour and the spotlight, you sat poised, ready to embrace whatever comes next with open arms and a song in your heart.

☆

☆

Backstage, the air is thick with anticipation, every corner bustling with activity. You feel a knot of nerves tightening in your stomach, your hands twisting together in a silent testament to your anxiety.

Taehyung arrives amidst the chaos, his presence a calming force. He spots your fidgeting hands and walks over, his approach easing the tension in the air. "What's wrong?" he asks, his voice carrying a note of concern as he observes your nervous mannerisms.

You shake your head, trying to dismiss your jitters with a weak smile. "It's nothing," you reply, though your voice betrays a hint of the turmoil you feel inside.

He doesn't buy your reassurance. Gently, he captures your hands, stilling their restless motion. "Hey, look at me," he urges softly, prompting you to meet his gaze. His eyes are kind, filled with empathy and understanding.

You lock eyes with him, finding a sense of calm in his steady gaze. He smiles reassuringly, "Let's breathe together, okay? In and out." He guides you through the breathing exercise, inhaling slowly, holding for a moment, and then exhaling. One... two... three...

With each breath, the backstage frenzy fades into the background, your focus narrowing to the simple act of breathing in sync with Taehyung. On the third exhale, he studies your face, his gaze gentle, reassuring you without words that you're not alone in this.

In that quiet space, the distant voice of the announcer breaks through, echoing through the backstage area and into your core, "And without further ado, welcoming her true debut, YaNi and BTS's V, singing 'Echoes of Eternity'."

Your heart skips a beat at the announcement, the reality of the moment hitting you. It's no longer a rehearsal or a private session; it's the unveiling of your art, your voice, and your story to the world. 

As the staff member signals that it's time to go on, Taehyung gives your hands a final squeeze. "You've got this," he says, a smile playing on his lips, infusing you with a burst of confidence.

The stadium is enveloped in darkness,  then slowly comes alive with light as Taehyung delivers the song's opening notes, his melody painting a vivid picture of timeless yearning and love's enduring flame. "In slumber's grip, I feel you near, a phantom touch, yet oh so clear..." As he sings, the CGI visuals on the massive screens above transform, depicting a moonlit ancient street, its blossoms weeping in the soft breeze, a visual echo of the song's poignant lyrics.

Your entrance is timed with the chorus, so when your cue arrives—with a deep breath and a surge of adrenaline coursing through you—you step forward onto the stage. "In ancient streets where blossoms weep, I wander, lost, in time's deep creek..." Your dress, a cascade of shimmering light, captures the spotlight, reflecting a spectrum of colors that mesmerize the audience.

"Echoes of eternity, in whispers of the wind, In dreams, you feel my presence, in silence, we're akin." Your voice joining Taehyung's is a harmony that feels as ancient and inevitable as the stars above. The music envelopes you, you and Taehyung move around each other in a mesmerizing dance—your steps synchronized with the melody, each turn and twirl a testament to the hours of practice and dedication.

"Our souls entwined by destiny, a love that won't rescind,Across the sands of time, my love, our stories are pinned." The choreography draws you and Taehyung into an orbit around each other, a dance that tells a story of yearning and hope, of love lingering across centuries, waiting to be reborn.

As the song builds to its climax, you and Taehyung draw closer to one another, both caught up in the moment. The world around you seemingly faded away. It was just you, Taehyung, and the music—a trinity of artistry in perfect alignment.

"In every dream, I whisper 'wait', believing in a kinder fate, Where once again, in flesh and bone, our love will find its way back home."

Neither of you seem to notice the undeniable chemistry radiating between you, the way you both appeared like star-crossed lovers under the stage lights.

"Echoes of eternity, resonating true and clear...For in a thousand years or more, I'll seek you, my dear." As the final note lingered in the air, a hush fell over the stadium.

Then, as if released from a spell, the audience erupts into a thunderous applause. The audience is on their feet, cheering, a standing ovation that resonates deeply with you.

Tears well up in your eyes as you soak in the moment, feeling the weight and warmth of their acceptance and admiration. This isn't just applause; it's a profound acknowledgment of your journey, a celebration of your courage to unveil your true self and share your artistry with the world.

Amidst the applause, your eyes wander across the sea of faces—stopping when they find a familiar, comforting presence in the crowd—your father. His eyes are brimming with tears, pride written all over his face as he claps. Even from afar, you can see him mouth the words, "I'm proud of you." 

As you stand there beside Taehyung, basking in the warmth of the applause and the silent, powerful approval from your father, you feel a profound sense of achievement. It's as if the dreams of your brother and mother, their aspirations and hopes, have come to fruition through you.

This performance isn't just a career milestone; it's a tribute to them, a realization of their dreams, and a testament to your resilience and dedication. In this defining moment, you're not just a performer on a stage; you're a beacon of hope, perseverance, and talent, stepping confidently into the spotlight that's rightfully yours.

The ovation, echoing in the vastness of the stadium, is not just for the performance but for the journey it represents—the unveiling of YaNi, the artist, the dreamer, the legacy bearer, now ready to carve a unique path in the music industry. 

***Wahhh! 2 more chapters 😩😭😭

[kieuecaprie]

So, after 34 hours of playing Dr. Robotnik's Ring Racers on the Deck, I think I can give a somewhat decent performance report for the handheld PC.

So, let's get the positive stuff out of the way first:

The game, while it does boot into a smaller resolution than expected, supports the Deck's standard resolution. In fact, I believe all the 16:10 resolutions are supported.

All text is clearly legible, although pretty much every piece of text in the game is large and chat is definitely readable.

The default graphics settings work well on the Deck out of the box*.

Both Windows via Proton and Linux Flatpak work.

All fields can be filled in using the Deck's default controls.

And now, the not-so-good:

The game may fail to maintain 60 FPS in most cases, oftentimes losing frames for seemingly no reason. Turning off the frame limiter and switching to Legacy GL helped.

This point becomes incredibly obvious once you start the second cup and play on Emerald Coast. After the first few turns and as you pass over the bridge, you get a good look at the rest of the map. HOWEVER, on Software, it appears that the framerate tanks heavily during this time, dropping to as low as 45. Below, I have some screenshots to explain this:

(1280x800, running Windows version via Proton, Software rendering mode, note the 44FPS next to GAMESCOPE)

Lowering the resolution, expectedly, mitigates this somewhat at the cost of the game becoming crusty.

(640x400, running Windows version via Proton, Software rendering mode, the 44 FPS has increased to be just above the 60 FPS threshold)

There is one solution for this and that's playing in Legacy GL, which enables model support among other things and resolves the above-mentioned issue:

(1280x800, running Windows version via Proton, Legacy GL rendering mode, models have negligable impact on performance, the lack of character models is just a preference.)

Of course, this introduces another issue where special stages (pardon, Sealed Stars) tend to have lag upon start-up and lag when the game state changes after claiming the emerald:

But, it's worth mentioning that: since this is an issue happening on the legacy GL renderer, this won't be fixed due to the fact that legacy GL is planned to be replaced sometime in the future.

So, both versions have their tradeoffs, personally, I kind of prefer to keep to Legacy GL simply because the framerate is more consistent across the board and the special stages have initial lag spikes at the start is a small price to pay. Here's hoping the replacement performs better.

This does give me some insight as to how I should've been playing with a different renderer when I played SRB2 and SRB2 Kart, as both of those tended to have a bit of frame issues when playing under Software.

While the game supports the default controller configurations, the controller glyphs do not represent the controller layout, instead opting for a Sega Saturn-like controller. This can be a tad confusing for people who haven't looked inside the controller settings when they see "C" when the game wants "Y" and it still trips me up when it wants me to press "Y" in Match Race's options to change item drops when it actually wanted "Left Bumper". I do sorta understand the artistic choice to go for a Saturn controller layout but it's definitely tripping me up lmao.

And with that, the performance report has concluded. I couldn't find any worst-case scenarios outside of a 16-man race and even then it ran fine and I have yet to try online and splitscreen, but as it stands, game runs good, as it should.

TL;DR - Game runs fine out of the box. Swap to Legacy GL in the video options if framedrops in courses are beginning to get you down. I have not tested online or splitscreen.

[i-rate-horse-games]

🐎rated games🐎

🐎single player games🐎 ★★★★☆ - starshine legacy for PC ★★★✬☆ - horse life 4 for 3DS ★★★✬☆ - bella sara (2008) for DS & PC ★★★✬☆ - bella sara 2 for 3DS ★★✬☆☆ - bella sara for 3DS ★★✬☆☆ - horse life 1 for pc ★★☆☆☆ - let's ride friends forever for DS DNF - petz horsez 2 for DS 🐎multiplayer online games🐎 ★★★★★ - horse life (roblox) ★★★★✬ - alicia online ★★★★✬ - star stable online ★★★★☆ - horse isle 1 ★★✬☆☆ - horse isle 3 part 1, part 2 🐎browser games🐎 ★★★★✬ - wild horse's valley ★★★★☆ - horse eden eventing ★★★★☆ - howrse 🐎joke ratings🐎 ★✬☆☆☆ - horse insane 1.0 & 1.1 ★☆☆☆☆ - virtual horse breeding game ☆☆☆☆☆ - splatoon 3

🐎on my radar (thanks guys!!)🐎

barbie horse adventures: riding camp canter crossing (unannounced) disney princess royal horse show equination gallop and ride for the nintendo wii horse club adventures horse club adventures 2 horse fable horse life 1 for ds horse life 2 for pc horse life adventures horse racing manager (eta 2025) horse reality horse riding tales horse shelter 2022 (unannounced with demo & playtest) horse tales emerald valley ranch horse world online horsez for ds horsez for ps2 hrd 3 pegasus island i love horses: rider's paradise jumping horses champions legacy horse game let's ride: dreamer let's ride: riding star let's ride: silver buckle stables london cab (unannounced) lucinda equestrian challenge (coming soon) lucinda green's equestrian challenge my first horse adventures on seahorse island my horse and me my horse and me: riding for gold my life riding stables 3 mystable.co.uk petz horse club petz horsez petz horsez 2 (wii) pony friends 2 pro show jumping riding club championships riding star rising star - the horse game (unannounced) rival stars horse racing ropin' ranch saddle up with pippa funnell secret of the magic crystals sims 3 pets sims 4 ranch spirit: stallion of the cimarron: forever free for PC stablebound (eta early 2025) star equestrian (gacha game :/) sulky manager (unannounced) the equestrian IGS the ranch of rivershine track king unbridled: that horse game (early access) unicorn tails astride (in development) windstorm

also searching for a pc horse game that makes you watch people kissing every time you attempt a difficult challenge (rip)

might start a category for 'not quite horse games' so i can rate things like totk and skyrim from a horse-centric perspective so feel free to submit games like those!

🐎more to come! please submit any that are missing or ask me to reevaluate a game that was misjudged!🐎

tags i use: #*you are the horse, #*you can be a boy, #horse game rating, #not a horse game rating

[lancely-blog]

Jewels Leclair, Private Investigator—An excerpt from upcoming novel Curtains for Astrid.

All text copyrighted ©️ 2024 by Lancer Gareth Bailey

The Golden Lantern was alive with energy, a place where the past and present mingled as seamlessly as the generations of patrons who had passed through its doors. Established in 1964, this was one of the oldest gay bars in New Orleans, its legacy entwined with the vibrant culture of the city.

Outside, the Golden Lantern's facade carried the weight of decades of stories, its weathered bricks and faded paint speaking to its storied history. The neon sign flickered in soft pinks and blues, casting a nostalgic glow onto the sidewalk. Above the door, the marquee proudly read ‘Jewels & the Fondlers’ in bold, vintage lettering, illuminated by small, twinkling bulbs that lined the edges. The windows, tinted from years of sun and wear, revealed just enough of the dimly lit interior to tease the atmosphere within.

The narrow entryway was adorned with flyers promoting past and future shows, their corners peeling slightly from the humidity, each flyer a reminder of the bar’s enduring presence in the heart of the city. A faint hum of music spilled into the street as the door opened, inviting curious onlookers into the lively, sultry world that awaited them inside.

Across the entrance, string lights hung loosely, their warm glow mingling with the neon, creating a welcoming ambiance. Beneath them, clusters of patrons, some in small groups and others lingering alone, smoked cigarettes or sipped from plastic cups, their conversations blending into the rich New Orleans night air.

The bar’s walls were plastered with vintage posters and photographs, capturing moments of Southern Decadence festivals from years gone by. The dim lighting cast a warm, amber glow over the room, reflecting off the polished wooden surfaces and the rows of bottles that lined the bar, each one a silent witness to countless stories told in hushed tones and raucous laughter.

Jewels Leclair was the star of the evening, as she always was on Thursday nights. She stood on the small stage, her elaborate costume catching the light, the sequins shimmering with every movement. Tonight, she had chosen a look inspired by the roaring ’20s, a time when jazz ruled the streets of New Orleans.

Her dress was a cascade of deep emerald green, fringed with black feathers that danced with her as she moved. A flapper headband adorned with a single black plume rested atop her carefully styled curls, and her makeup was as bold as her performance—dark, smoky eyes, and a deep red lip that could stop traffic.

She belted out the final notes of her last number, her voice powerful and filled with emotion, reverberating through the room as the audience erupted into applause. Jewels' finale was a sultry rendition of "La Vie en Rose," a timeless classic that perfectly encapsulated the spirit of old-world glamour she loved to channel. Her voice, rich and velvety, filled the room with a haunting beauty, each note dripping with emotion. As she sang, she moved slowly and gracefully, her eyes half-closed as if lost in the romantic nostalgia of the song. The audience was entranced, caught in the spell Jewels cast with her performance, hanging on every word as she poured her heart into the final, lingering notes.

The song ended with Jewels holding a single red rose, which she tossed into the crowd with a dramatic flourish, leaving the audience in rapturous applause as the curtain fell. Jewels knew how to work a crowd, and tonight was no exception. She stepped to the edge of the stage, microphone in hand, and addressed her audience with a playful smirk.

“Now, darlings, don’t you think it’s about time someone bought this queen a drink?” Her voice was a blend of sultry and sweet, with a hint of mischief that made the crowd roar with laughter and cheers. She scanned the faces in the room, catching the eye of a few regulars who smiled back at her, their admiration evident.

Jewels continued to banter with the crowd, throwing out witty remarks and charming her way through the last moments of the show. She could feel the love in the room, the acceptance that had eluded Julian Leclair in his day-to-day life but was abundant here, within the safe haven of The Golden Lantern. This was her domain, a world where Jewels reigned supreme, and every cheer, every whistle, was a reminder of the power she held on this stage.

As the show came to a close, Jewels blew a final kiss to the audience before disappearing backstage. The curtain fell, the lights dimmed, and the buzz of conversation filled the room once more as the patrons returned to their drinks, already reminiscing about the night’s performance.

After the show, Jewels took her time backstage, carefully touching up her makeup in the dim, flickering light of the dressing room. The hot stage lights always left a fine sheen of sweat on her brow, smudging the perfect lines of her eyeliner and softening the edges of her lipstick. She wiped away the small imperfections with practiced hands, reapplying powder and adding a fresh coat of her signature deep red lipstick.

Satisfied with her appearance, Jewels took a deep breath and prepared to re-enter the bar. The familiar din of clinking glasses, overlapping conversations, and distant strains of jazz music greeted her as she stepped back into the Golden Lantern. The bar was packed as always, the crowd buzzing with the energy that lingered after her performance. She made her way through the throng of people, offering a smile here, a wink there, until she reached her usual spot at the bar.

Jewels slid onto her designated stool, a well-worn seat that had molded itself to her over the years. Beside her, a row of older regulars sat nursing their drinks, their faces creased with time and experience, the lines of their lives etched deeply into their skin.

"How’s it going, Bob?" she asked, turning to the man beside her. Bob was a fixture at the Golden Lantern, a retired cop with a fondness for bourbon and a dry wit to match. His graying hair was slicked back, and his piercing blue eyes still held a sharpness that belied his age.

Bob looked over, a slow smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Evening, Jewels. You were something else up there tonight. Almost forgot I’m too old to fall in love again."

Jewels laughed, a throaty sound that was equal parts charm and irony. "Flattery will get you everywhere, darling. Anything exciting happened while I was on stage? Got any crimes that need solving?"

Bob shook his head, taking a sip of his drink. "Not much going on in our sleepy city lately. Though with the way this place fills up every night, you’d think the whole town was one big party."

Jewels sighed, swirling her drink in hand. "The private investigation business has been slow lately. Guess the criminals are taking a vacation. My cabaret singer side hustle is fun, but it isn't paying the bills."

Bob chuckled, his gaze softening as he looked at Jewels. "It's disgraceful, what they did to you down at Headquarters—forcing you out like that. Well, if anything does come up, you’ll be the first to know. Hell, you’re better than half the detectives still on the force. They don’t make 'em like you anymore."

Jewels smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Thanks, Bob. I’ll drink to that."

She raised her glass, clinking it against his, and took a long, deliberate sip. The whiskey was smooth, warming her from the inside out, but it didn’t chase away the lingering worry that had settled deep in her bones.

Back within the solitude of her Bywater apartment, the transformation began to reverse. Jewels shed her feathers and sequins, each piece of her costume carefully removed and hung with the reverence of a ritual. The flapper headband was the last to go, revealing Julian Leclair’s short, tousled hair beneath. With a final glance in the mirror, Jewels disappeared, leaving Julian to take her place.

Julian’s apartment was a far cry from the glitter and glamour of The Golden Lantern. The walls were a dull, faded beige, the paint peeling in places, revealing the years of neglect. The furniture was sparse and worn, a battered couch that had seen better days, a coffee table littered with empty glasses, cigarette butts, and a stack of unpaid bills. The only light in the room came from a single lamp on the end table, casting a dim, yellowish hue that barely reached the corners of the small space.

Julian sat at the edge of the couch, a glass of whiskey on the rocks in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. The makeup removal process was slow and methodical, each swipe of the cotton pad revealing more of the man beneath the mask. He stared into the small mirror propped up on the table, watching as Jewels faded away with every passing second. The ritual was both a release and a reminder—a release from the persona he had created and a reminder of the reality he could never fully escape.

The stack of unpaid bills loomed on the edge of the table, some of them stamped with bold red warnings of service cancellations. Julian glanced at them briefly, the weight of their presence heavy on his mind, but he pushed the thought away, focusing instead on the task at hand. He took a long drag from the cigarette, the smoke curling upwards in delicate tendrils, disappearing into the dimness of the room. The whiskey burned as it went down, a comforting warmth that settled deep in his chest.

With Jewels now fully removed, Julian stood and made his way to the small closet in the corner of the room. He pulled out a set of satin chiffon pajamas, the fabric soft and delicate in his hands, a stark contrast to the harsh reality of his surroundings. Slipping into the luxurious pajamas, he felt a small measure of comfort, a momentary escape from the world outside.

Julian returned to the couch, his body heavy with exhaustion, and collapsed onto the worn cushions. The half-finished cocktail sat on the table next to him, the ice long since melted. He closed his eyes, the cigarette still smoldering in the ashtray, and within moments, he was asleep, the weight of the world temporarily lifted as he drifted into a restless slumber.

The morning sun filtered through the thin curtains, casting pale light across the room. Julian stirred on the couch, groggy and disoriented. The phone’s shrill ring pierced through the fog of sleep, pulling him back to reality. He fumbled for the receiver, his voice rough and thick with sleep as he answered.

“Hello,” he said with a tinge of apprehension.

The voice on the other end of the line was soft, solemn, with a hint of resignation. A woman spoke, her tone carrying an edge of nervousness. “Good morning. I hope I have the correct number. I’m trying to reach the office of Detective Julian Leclair.”

“This is Julian Leclair,” he replied, a sudden wave of anxiety jolting him upright. His muscles tensed, nerves prickling. “Are you a debt collector?”

There was a brief pause, as if his question had taken her by surprise. “No, quite the opposite. Mr. Leclair, I’m calling in the hope of engaging your services for an investigation.”

“I see,” Julian said, choosing his words carefully. “But before we go further, you should know I’m no longer Detective Leclair. I was let go from the New Orleans Police Department over a year ago. Now, I’m a licensed private investigator.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” she responded, her voice tinged with empathy. “And I apologize for using your former title. I know about your recent setbacks, but that’s precisely why I’m calling. If you’re available, I’d like to hire you.”

“There’s one more thing that you should be aware of upfront,” Julian added, his tone firm. “I now go by the name Jewels Leclair professionally.”

There was a brief pause before the woman spoke again. “I see. In that case, I would like to hire Ms. Jewels Leclair to find out who murdered my daughter.”

Julian felt his breath catch in his throat, the weight of her words sinking in like a stone. “Your daughter?” he repeated, his voice quieter now, the initial nervousness replaced by a sharp, professional focus. “I’m… I’m sorry for your loss. Can you tell me her name and what happened?”

The woman hesitated, as if gathering the strength to continue. “Her name was Astrid St. Croix. She was murdered seven years ago. The case remains unsolved, and the police have long since moved on. It’s a cold case, but I can’t let it rest. I need someone who can look at it with fresh eyes, someone who isn’t afraid to dig where others won’t.”

Julian felt a surge of determination rising within him, the gravity of the situation sharpening his focus. “I understand. I’ll do everything in my power to help you. Let’s meet in person to go over the details. When and where would be convenient for you?”

There was a moment of silence on the line, the weight of the conversation hanging between them. Finally, the woman spoke, her voice filled with quiet resolve. "Thank you, Ms. Leclair. I can meet you at the Royal Café on Chartres Street, say around ten tomorrow morning?"

"That works for me," Julian replied, making a mental note of the time and place. "I’ll be there."

"Thank you," she said again, her voice softening. "I know it’s been a long time, but I have a feeling you're the only one who can help me find the truth."

Julian nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. "I’ll do my best, Mrs. St. Croix. I’ll see you tomorrow."

As he hung up the phone, Julian sat back, the details of the conversation replaying in his mind. The name Astrid St. Croix seemed familiar, and the gravity of a cold case, especially one involving the murder of a young woman, was enough to stir something deep within him. He glanced around his dreary apartment, the stack of unpaid bills on the table a stark reminder of his own troubles. But for now, those concerns could wait. There was work to be done.

He took a long drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling upward in lazy spirals, and then exhaled slowly. Tomorrow, he would step back into the role that had forced him to leave his old life behind, but every ending is a new beginning, and this time, this life would be on his terms.