#Might not need the Oc tag but we’ll see

[silverika326]

My New Umbrella is So Cool I Made a Character Out of It

Og sketch and the umbrella I based em off of is under the cut!

[streamdotpng]

Art Commissions!

Note: Prices can change and vary depending on what is being commissioned! I'm generally flexible when it comes to prices and budget.

+10-15 usd per person

+5-10 usd depending on the background

Note: There can be additional charges due to paypal fees

If more examples are needed, you can go through my art tag or ask for more in DM's!

Can Draw!

Fanart

oc’s/humanoids

pngtuber models

character sheets

horror, gore (not excessive)

Chibi

NSfW

Might Draw (We’ll need to talk about these requests)

full on furries (not so experienced)

excessive gore/horror (same excuse as above)

comics

honestly, if it isn’t in the Can Draw, let’s talk about it.

Will not:

hate art

anything political

if it crosses my boundaries

Terms and Service! (this is a long one)

The client may ask for progress updates every 2-4 days, if not longer, should the commissionee not be in contact.

The art may take longer than the estimated time the artist gives. Should that be an issue or concern, the client must tell the artist.

In commissioning the artist, the client acknowledges that the artist is a student and that this is not the artist’s full time job, and the client should not expect the artist to be able to treat it as such.

IMAGE RIGHTS

The client may not, in any way shape or form, use the art in a commission product for NFTs, no matter how much they offer to pay the artist. Should NFTs be made of the art without consent, the client gives full consent for the artist to take legal action against them.

The client may make minor edits to the completed commission (e.g. cropping, adding text/borders, changing brightness/contrast/hue/saturation…

The client may use/reupload the commission for personal/non-commercial use, but only if proper credit to the artist and a linkback to any of the artist’s social media is provided.

If the commission includes characters that do not belong the client, additional credit to the owner(s)/creator(s) of said characters must be provided when using/reuploading for personal/non-commercial use.

The client may not use the commission for any commercial use unless discussed with the artist beforehand.

^ Should the client use the art for commercial use, provided the artist’s consent, the artist will receive an agreed-upon percentage of the sales profits.

The client MUST credit the artist for any usage of the art on any platform.

The client MUST ask the artist if they want to use their art as a reference, and proceed to credit each time the reference is used. REVISION POLICIES Once the coloring stage begins, the only major revisions permitted are details that the artist may have missed and was specified by the client in the order while the commission was still in the sketching/lineart stage (e.g. a missing tattoo that’s essential to the character’s design).

If the client is unsatisfied with the commission, the artist is willing to discuss and make minor edits as stated prior (e.g. adjusting colors). However, the artist will not redraw the piece and expects full payment, as the client should have specified in the sketch stage changes they wanted to be made.

The client may not hire another artist to adjust the image without the commissionee’s consent.

The artist is willing to edit the image post commission for the commissioner, but may charge a small fee depending on what is being asked of them. Upon commissioning the artist, the client automatically agrees to the terms of service provided, as it is assumed they have read them.

-

…and that’s about it? Just don’t expect me to be obligated to draw something and we'll figure something out. Not to mention that depending on how much commissions i’m getting and how busy i am, the art will take atleast a few days to a week!

If you got references, provide them! It’ll help alot. You can also ask for progress updates, just don’t mind me accidentally not seeing the message bc this is tumblr and I don’t get notifs for some reason.

as of rn, im accepting payment through ko-fi and paypal

But ye! That’s about it, thanks for seeing this yall. If you want to see more examples, simply look at the tags below in my account!

[robinette-green]

Robin's Inside the Pizza Plex DCA Romance Fics

These are fics I've started that take place inside Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizza Plex. The call is coming from inside the plex!

A Door You're Unable to Close:

(tag)

My best friend talked me into coming with her as moral support to her little brother's birthday party. I hadn't wanted to go to that stupid birthday party to begin with and now I'm trapped in a video game, a horror video game that might kill me. I thought at the time that it was ironic that a kid named Greg had gone missing in a Chuck-e-Cheese of all places but this is taking things much too far.

Invisible:

There's nothing like working for a corporation in a capitalist society to remind you that you are nothing but furniture and need not be perceived unless needed. Even the animatronics in this place are treated more human than I am. At least I'm on the same level as the staff bots… that's a plus? Though usually, people prefer to speak with a staff bot over me, so I suppose 'even' is the lie I tell myself. I've worked for Fazbear Entertainment at their pizza plex for about a year. I do a little bit of everything. Cleaning, repair, sales… even security sometimes. Most of the human workers have been replaced with robots to cut down on employee costs. Sometimes I think I'm the last human working here, but then I remember Vanessa still works here too. Sometimes I wonder if they just forgot to fire me or tell me I was fired, but I'm still getting paychecks, so… yeah. The time clock beeped an acknowledgment as I punched in my employee number. "Attention! Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex is closed! Have a pleasant evening!" Sighing, I adjusted my bag on my shoulder and took a long swig of my coffee.

The Star Dome (LateNight DayDreams):

An OC named Fey is a new animatronic that has been added to the plex.

Another Daycare Story:

This is another of your reader x Sun/ Moon Pizza Plex daycare stories. We start with a 20-something individual getting a job in the daycare and having to overcome a fear of animatronics. There will be some angst with Moon. Then the romance will begin. Eventually, we'll hit the events of the game and go through all that fun, but until then, this will be mostly random fluff and angst shenanigans in the loose shape of a story as our main characters fall in love.

Little Assistant:

MC is the assistant to the CEO of Fazbear Entertainment. As Vanessa kidnaps and kills children while attempting to bring Springtrap back to life, MC is forced to clean up the mess and cover up the disappearances. MC is also tasked with keeping an eye on the Daycare attendants, keeping them in line as they are forced to help kidnapping children. “Did you do it? How do we know if it worked?” “We’ll have to test out some command code on him. Everything uploaded without issue, but they do have minds of their own. He may put up a fight.” I wasn’t paying attention to the conversation, wanting as little to do with this as I could get away with. They had already forced me to help with so much, cleaning up all that mess, all that red, covering up the disappearance. Shuddering, I looked through the glass into the daycare beyond. Deep in the dark, I could see two red eyes glaring out at us, furious. I couldn’t blame him. The virus they had activated in the night mode daycare attendant was going to be used for something horrific.

Lost Time:

The reader, already in an established relationship with Sun and Moon, dies and wakes 5 years later in the body of an animatronic. The pizza plex was rebuilt after the collapse and fire. Due to some miracle, all of the animatronics had survived the disaster and were now back to work, entertaining the general public as though nothing had happened. After everything fell apart, children stopped disappearing, but the missing children were never found. Business was booming, and everything seemed to be better than ever. With the massive influx of money, Fazbear Entertainment decided to invest in a new animatronic, a drummer for the band, to add to the rock and roll feel of the Glam Rocks. But in the way of all things with Fazbear Entertainment, the acquisition of this animatronic was very confidential. Several none disclosure agreements were signed, and the whole thing was very shady. None of this mattered to me, of course. I was more worried about my new role in life. Well, it was life in a sense. I had finally woken up after 5 years to find myself strapped to a chair in parts and services, having been turned into an animatronic.

Lost in the Dark:

Working third shift for security wasn’t so bad. I spent the first few hours patrolling the halls of the upper floors, that being what I had been assigned. Then I would spend the rest of the night at the security desk in the daycare, cameras pulled up on the computer screens and keeping an eye on the ‘crazy’ animatronics that inhabited that colourful playground. 6 months of working night shift in the daycare, and I am unfortunate enough to have developed feelings for two clueless robots.

Bad Day:

I stopped with my hand on the door. I had come all this way on my day off and now I wasn't brave enough to push the doors open. Today had been a hard one. A nightmare the night before and some rough conversations had made my insides feel all squishy and tender. All I really wanted to do was lay on the floor and cry but something had brought me here, to the daycare.

Taking Time:

They needed a robotics expert and I needed a job. I had been between jobs. I had actually just been let go from my last job and was frantically looking for a new one when I had received an email from Faz Bear entertainment. They were looking for a robotics expert to run their parts and services lab. The pay was phenomenal but I would be the only one working in the lab and would be expected to keep the staff bots, animatronics, arcade games and all the automated systems in working order. I didn’t even hesitate a moment before I sent them a reply and agreed to an interview for the following day. Great pay and an entire lab to myself? Yes please.

Why is it Spicy?:

okay so... this is an AU of my Unpleasant Nightmare fic. I started this as a joke for myself but now we're here. The general idea is the same. Stuck in Security Breach and need to find a way out but Sun and Moon are extra flirty and handsy.

Out of Place:

Fosters and Green is an up and coming robotics company and is the talk of every news station in the world. They haven’t even released their first line of robots yet but people are already clambering to get their hands on a robot made from Foster and Green. They plan on releasing a few household bots that will work as cleaning staff or secretaries but they also plan on releasing a line of child care bots. Why hire a nanny when you can have a live-in one you don’t need to pay. My designated number is D-375, I have been dubbed Kate by the technicians who ran all of my quality assurance checks. My dreams of working with a family of my own were quickly dashed. Foster and Green decided that they wanted to place a bot somewhere in the public eye where people could watch it at work and so had partnered with another company who also made robots, though they specialized more in animatronics that were designed for entertainment. The two companies decided to put one Foster and Green’s N-90 models in the daycare center of Fazbear Entertainment’s PizzaPlex to work alongside the child care units that Fazbear Entertainment had created.

Taking Over:

They needed a robotics expert and I needed a job. I had been between jobs. I had actually just been let go from my last job and was frantically looking for a new one when I had received an email from Faz Bear entertainment. They were looking for a robotics expert to run their parts and services lab. The pay was phenomenal but I would be the only one working in the lab and would be expected to keep the staff bots, animatronics, arcade games and all the automated systems in working order. I didn’t even hesitate a moment before I sent them a reply and agreed to an interview for the following day. Great pay and an entire lab to myself? Yes please. I was hired on the spot. This wasn't surprising seeing as I had worked in robotics for most of my life and had some hands-on experience with these kinds of animatronics. The AI units that Faz Bear uses would be new to me but I was sure I could figure out the new tech quickly enough.

Unpleasant Nightmare:

My best friend talked me into coming with her as moral support to her little brother's birthday party. I hadn't wanted to go to that stupid birthday party to begin with and now I'm trapped in a computer game, a horror computer game that might kill me. I thought at the time that it was ironic that a kid named Greg had gone missing in a Chuck-e-Cheese of all places but this is taking things much too far.

Some of these won't be finished and some are OLD writing of mine. you have been warned. Please don't let that stop you from reading these and enjoying them <3

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Chapter 7 - Everybody Wants to Rule the World

[Also Available on AO3]

Summary: Laswell delivers intel that leaves the team dealing with a ticking clock and the risk of Soap and Ghost's lives being in danger

Warnings/Tags: Minors DNI, swearing, smoking, character with trauma, established relationship, dialog heavy chapter, military inaccuracies

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC - 3rd person POV (Rory Sinclair)

Word count: 2.5 K

A/N: the further continuation of Rory's story, this follows and expands upon the COD: MW2 reboot canon. Told from Rory's POV.

I always have at least one "It doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to be done chapter" and this feels like it might be it. Lot's of dialogue and characters standing around. I tried to make it entertaining, but alas, it is an infodump chapter

November 2, 2022 19:30 - Somewhere over the East Coast of the United States

Lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the fuselage in flight, the soothing numbness of weighty limbs that came with the pain medication kicking in, and the bone weariness from the excitement of the past few days, Rory had barely been able to keep her eyes open. Her lids were as heavy as bunker doors, eyes rolling back until irises gave way to whites, her head lolled backwards against the headrest and she faded into a sleep deprived state of unconsciousness. 

“For what,” she asked, rubbing at her eyes, sweeping away the sandy particles that had collected in the corners, attempting to erase the glue that had adhered her fan of dark lashes together in a bid to catch up on some much needed rest. With a stretch of her legs right down to her toes, fanning out inside her boots, and a crack of her back, she forced herself to focus. “Did we land already?”

The sound of twin turbine engines roared throughout the cabin in a swell, the orchestral brass section of a vehicle built for war rumbled up through her feet and into her joints. A thunderous lullaby of bellowing white noise surrounded her as she slept like the dead until startled awake by John nudging her leg with his knee and giving her shoulder a squeeze. She blinked around the interior of the plane groggily, trying to gather her bearings. Momentarily confused and disoriented, tense, until the low husk of his murmured voice curled around her with the weight and comfort of one of his oversized sweaters, and the sweet, earthy aroma of smoke carried on his breath.

“Need you awake for this.”

“Dropped off Laswell, en route to Texas as we speak, we’ll get across the border to Mexico from there.”

“Fuck me,” she groaned, rubbing a hand down her face. “Really must have been out of it, eh?”

Yanking one of the cigarettes from the pack, Rory brought it to her lips and pulled out her lighter, setting the flame on the end. “Watch your tone, Sergeant. Might just find yourself on latrine duty back at base,” she said with a smirk, closing the lid on the flame and extinguishing it. 

“You’re doing just fine, Lieutenant,” Gaz ribbed, holding out his pack of cigarettes for her, shaking them like a packet of dog treats. “Managed to go without drooling on the boss’ shoulder and everythin’.” His chuckle quickly followed by a swift elbow nudged into his side by the female member of their party.

“You wouldn't.”

“Try me,” she replied with playfully narrowed eyes, a curling half grin pulling one side of her mouth taut around the cigarette.

The sound of the CIA Station Chief’s voice immediately dragged Rory back into focus, and the mask of professionalism slipped down over her features once more, schooling them into neutrality. “Back to work already, I see.”

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Sinclair.” Laswell’s voice came from the laptop, voice muffled over the built-in speakers. Her tired eyes on the screen were the only thing visible as she held a mug of coffee up to her lips. 

“Always. Sorry to wake you from your catnap, but it was important you heard this as well.”

“I'm all ears.”

The clink of Laswell’s mug hitting the desk was ominous, the only sound in the silence that settled before she spoke. “Botha never arrived.”

“What do you mean they never arrived?” She pulled the cigarette from her lips and sat forward, arms resting on her thighs. “They can't have been bloody spirited away,” she snarked, gesturing with the cigarette in her hand. “They have to be somewhere.” Sitting there stunned, head falling back against her seat, Rory took a heavy breath and tried to ground herself. Eyes snapping open, she met the screen with Laswell’s visage. “Konni?”

Blinking a few times, Rory wasn’t entirely sure she was cogent enough before the words hit her like a slap to the face and she was instantly made alert at the alarming news. The cigarette jostled on her lip as she spoke, mumbling around it. “I'm sorry, what?”

“I know you sent him off with Delaney a few days back… but they never arrived on American soil.”

“Haven’t been able to confirm that yet.”

“What do we know?” Price stepped in, taking control of the situation.

“There have been no moves made for a black box recovery, but the plane never landed. There were no distress calls made either.”

“Aerial strike of some kind?”

“I’d assume so, yeah. Likely didn’t get a chance to respond.”

Rory chewed on her inner lip, raking her fingers through her hair, the ashes at the end of her cigarette crumbling to the floor between her boots – and then it hit her. “So either Konni finally tied up that loose end… or someone buried the lead. Perhaps whoever it was that let the American missiles land in the hands of the enemy in the first place. Missiles that no one knew were missing to begin with. If they’ve got access to weapons that were off the books, what else are they capable of?”

“They’d have to be fairly powerful to have access to weaponry and tactics like that,” Kate confirmed.

Price reared up from his seat, his glower focused on the woman sitting beside him. “You don’t think –”

“I think he’s always been a bit of a dodgy blighter – willing to fight dirty. And I think it might have bitten him in the arse this time.” She turned her attention back to the screen in John’s lap. “Kate, what do we know about Shadow Company aside from being in Shepherd's back pocket?”

“I think someone who’s able to get a task force made up of British Special Forces operatives up and running from out of nowhere is capable of anything. Just like we are.” Rory drummed a thumb on her thigh. “Not to mention he’s got his own PMC at his beck and call.”

“You think Shepherd did this?” John growled.

“Rory,” he growled out her name, something feral brewing in his stare. “If he’s willing to use whatever resources he’s got at his disposal to kill your target, what makes you think he wouldn’t do the same to Soap and Ghost?”

“I'll do some digging.”

Slamming the lid of the laptop shut, Price’s head snapped towards Rory, a quiet fury rolling within the placid depths of his irises, moments before they would become raging storms. “What makes you think it’s Shepherd?”

“What makes you think that it’s not?” she asked, looking taken aback, surprised by his unwillingness to accept her line of reasoning.

“Because he’s got my men working for him on a mission about those fuckin’ missiles,” he snarled.

She sucked her teeth, pursing her lips, before sucking the plump flesh between her teeth and worrying at her pout. “So it’s not trust then, is it? It’s just hope.”

John was protective, he always had been, there was no denying that fact. And he was no different when it came to the lives of his men. Men he had dragged into this, men he had chosen specifically for their skills, for the trust he had in what they would bring to his team. And now that trust was being turned against him by Shepherd, a man he had been foolish enough to allow to use him as a tool in the war they were fighting, one they had been fighting for too long. 

She could see the stiffness in his shoulders, the rigidity. Beating himself up in silence for believing that someone at the top might have actually had some sort of relative honor like him. That he put his life, and the lives of others as their commanding officer, into the hands of a man so ready to wash himself clean of them all made him twitch, his mouth curling with barely hidden disgust. Led astray by his own instincts, he could lose grip of just how much freedom he actually had while still acting as a cog in the machine. The herding dog pulling away from the pack to snarl at the wolves, to beat them back, taking on beasts bigger than him without fear, until returning with a bloodied muzzle, he would know that those under his protection were safe once more. 

“Because that would be absolutely reckless. Not to mention putting his own head on the chopping block. There is no way he is that foolish when it comes to cleaning up a mess like this.”

“An animal backed into a corner goes for the throat,” Price rumbled, his voice low, dangerous. “Shepherd’s not one for complacency.” His mouth scrunched at the thought of what could happen to his men under the General’s orders. “And neither am I.”

“So we’re going in looking for a fight already, boss?” Gaz cocked his brow and glanced past the bickering couple.

“We’re looking after our own,” Price rasped, stare dead set, jaw locked tight.

November 4, 2022 00:30 - Fort Bliss, El Paso, Texas

The wait for a helicopter to be refueled and made ready for flight had given them time to set up shop and ready themselves for taking on the cartel, terrorists, and the suspected – and likely– threat from inside of Shepherd and Graves. The table they stationed themselves around was littered with intel, all they had collected from Ghost’s earlier reports about Las Almas, the Los Vaqueros, and their run in with Hassan Zayani.

The three soldiers leaned over the table, planning, preparing, ready to strike, when the radio on Price’s vest chirped to life. 

“Watcher-1 to Bravo-6. Watcher-1 to Bravo-6–”

“Here, Kate,” Price said, gripping his radio tightly in one hand, while the other pressed to the table, his weight resting on it.

“Hope you’re sitting down. I got my hands on the redacted intel of the century.”

“Go on.”

“The whole reason Graves and Shadow are under Shepherd’s control comes down to finances. Looked into Shadow's origins. Didn't take long before it fell into the red. Shepherd bailed Graves out.”

“Two months ago there was a black bag operation in Al Mazrah, headed by General Shepherd and carried out by Shadow Company. They were transporting ballistic missiles to our allies fighting the Russians in the Middle East. Reconnaissance had said the route was clear – it was incorrect. They were intercepted by a Russian PMC, one we now know to be Konni, thanks to Rory’s work. They took out all survivors and got a hold of Shadow’s comms,” Kate sighed and continued. “The shipments were illegal and off the books. The entire mission buried by Graves and Shepherd. Three missiles were stolen, we’ve only found two. We need to find the last one.”

“Why would Graves be willing to shoulder a burden like that with the General, why not wash his hands of it? Come clean?” Price’s heavy brow knit together in a tight weave of frustration, moving to stand tall, back straight, shifting his weight slightly as if ready to start pacing. The energy stirring to life within him to fight.

“And made a PMC into his own personal army. Wonderful,” Rory scoffed and shook her head. “So it’s not even a question of loyalty, Shepherd outright owns him.” 

“They both got dirty and they've tried to keep it hidden. Now they're willing to do whatever necessary to make sure it stays that way. Picked up on comms chatter. Shadow's overtaken the Mexican Special Forces base in Las Almas.”

“What?” Price’s eyes flared, halting his movements instantly, his hands gripping at the shoulder straps of his vest with white knuckled strength.

“They've detained anyone who has had contact with the mission, either through the cartel or the missiles.”

“Detainment isn't a permanent solution.” Gaz’s jaw clenched, the tic of a snarled lip lasting for only a moment. “The fact that they were quick to take Botha out of the equation makes it worse. Ghost and Soap are in danger.”

“So is Colonel Vargas, my contact.”

The Lieutenant and the Sergeant were a threat to Shepherd’s goal of burying the problem he had helped create. Like nuclear waste having to be buried miles deep in clay and stone to keep the radiation from leaking out and contaminating the earth around it, it had been the General’s goal to keep this out of the light of day. So much so, he was willing to throw out the baby with the bathwater to hide the mistake he had made. 

Rory folded her arms over her chest, her one hand coming up to rub absentmindedly at the scabbed over cuts on her cheek, the last reminder of a life she had fought to save, and for what. “So we're on a ticking clock, and not just because of a lost missile.”

“There's a prison the Special Forces use. High security. If Graves wanted a place to store a problem until there was a more permanent solution, that would be a good choice.”

“Right, then we head there.” Price’s fingers pressed to the table top, splayed apart, tapping them slightly against the metal as the gears spun behind his eyes. “Kate, keep an ear on the chatter and send me the blueprints for the prison. We need to figure out the best way in before we get there.”

“Will do.”

“Bravo-6, out.”

Turning to Rory, Price’s head tipped to the side. “You still think Shepherd’s unwilling to take out our own?”

Working her jaw from side to side, her whole face pinched into an angry purse. The sour tang of bitterness was a pervasive taste that caked her tongue. “Suppose you weren't the only one holding out hope. I can't believe he'd go this far. Why burn bridges like this, make himself the enemy? It’s completely illogical.”

“Because Shepherd likes being in control,” he snarled. “He's used to working in the black like us. Sees things as winning’ and losin’, not maintainin’ allies. No such thing as loyalty with him.”

“That's a dangerous spot for us to be in then, eh? Having to rely on him…” Her words trailed off and the small crumb of fear she carried with her, and the weight of just how much Shepherd knew about them all, darkened her gaze. 

John gripped the back of her neck, pulling her into him, his body rigid, stiff as he rested her head under his chin. The sturdy force she could lean on. “We arent relyin’ on him. Not anymore,” he growled. Tipping his chin to his chest, he leaned back to look down at her and gave her nape a squeeze. “We cut ties, same way he was willin’ to deal with us.”

[angel-graces-world-of-chaos]

I told you so

Author Note: Here's some more of my OC x Bodhi! If you haven't seen my other fic, I highly recommend (find it here). Enjoy and feedback/reblogs/comments/likes are much appreciated xx

Divider by me — if you would like to use it, please tag or credit me x

Word Count: 773-ish

“Shit!” Lillian yells as she sprints through the fortress, ducking between riders as First Wing tries to protect their egg. Seimra snarled angrily in her head as a rider almost lobbed her head off with a sword: be careful!

Yeah, yeah, sorry. Now shush! Lillian hissed back, slamming her shields down to block out further commentary from her blue daggertail. Racing up the steps, the second-year ducked and twisted as she dodged daggers and other weaponry being thrown at her. Panting she reached the top of the stairs to find a group of riders stationed around First Wing’s egg.

“I don’t suppose you’d save me the fight and just hand it over, right?” Lillian grinned, holding her palm up and wiggling her fingers cheekily as she glanced around the room for anything that might help her defeat five riders. “No? Oh well.” With that, she launched herself into the fight, dancing out of the way as the riders tried to take her down. 

Seimra, the rule is, I only have to bring the egg back, right? Lillian asked as she continued to duck and weave between riders. I don’t need to fight them all to get it…

You see? Brain over brawn, silly child.

Yeah, yeah. Ducking a potential fatal blow to the head, Lillian had managed to sneak her way to the egg. Grabbing it, she yelled a quick thank you to the stunned group of riders and sprinted back down the stairs, vaulting onto her dragon from the fortress wall.

Tell the others we have the egg. Lillian smiled, eyes shining brightly as she cradled the egg in her hands. Hopefully they were able to protect our flag as well.

CRACK!

What in the gods was that?! Lillian startled, glancing around across the valley, trying to pin-point the sound. I believe that was Tairn’s rider, Seimra grumbled, moving her head to point at a now smouldering fortress. Your not-mate has requested you land in the valley with the rest of your section and announce the successful retrieval of the egg.

My not-mate? Lillian questioned.

Yes. Cuir’s rider. You have said he is not your mate, despite your wish to be his.

B-bodhi?? You’re talking— SEIMRA!

Seimra huffed, throwing a side glance at her rider, before beginning her descent to the training fields.

HE ISN’T!

Lillian merely received a huff in response, as she jumped down from her dragon and began to walk towards the group of riders that had gathered.

“There she is!” Imogen yelled, grinning wildly as she sprinted towards the blonde. “You got the egg!” Imogen launched her arms around Lillian, jumping up and down, “and we kept the flag! We won!”

Lillian laughed happily, glancing around at the two sections that had gathered around her. “Is Claw Section still out?”

Bodhi answered, shouldering his way through to stand on her other side: “Yeah, Garrick, Violet and Xaden are with them as well. I’m really proud of you.” He whispered the last part, lips brushing her ear gently, before he pulled back and grinned at her, “I wanted to talk to you tonight. Meet at our usual spot?” Lillian nodded, glancing at him before turning back to the rest of the riders.

“Alright listen up! You did well, and given we are the only wing to have succeeded in keeping our flag and capturing an egg, I expect we’ll be the winners of Squad Battle! So! Wash up and ensure all chores are done, then head to dinner! Tail Section, although I’m not your Section Leader, I suggest you do the same!”

Riders cheered and began to head back to the quadrant, chatting happily amongst themselves. “I wish you were our Section Leader.” Imogen sighs, “Garrick’s such a stickler for rules. I bet he’d have made us do other shit first before we could have even thought about food.”

Lillian snorted, “He definitely would. You’ve got a pretty good EXO though…” She nudged Imogen, tilting her head towards Bodhi. “Yeah, but we all know he’d much rather be in your sec—“ Before Imogen could finish, Bodhi had her in a headlock, covering her mouth so she couldn’t say anything. “And that is our cue to head off the field.” Bodhi glared at Imogen, marching towards the quadrant with her still stuck in a headlock.

A nudge pulled Lillian out of her daze and she glanced back at Seimra. What?

I don’t like saying ‘I told you so’, but—

“The hell you don’t, it’s your favourite phrase!” Lillian cried, throwing her hands in the air and almost dropping the egg as she does it. Shit! 

[cetaitlaverite]

Anything to Anywhere

Masters of the Air - John Egan x OC

this is it, folks!! hope you looooove <3 masterlist is here

make sure you read chapter 37 first!!!

38. Epilogue

“You got an idea of what you might be looking for?”

The woman’s eyes were on John but John’s eyes were on Stella, always seeking to follow her lead.

Stella smiled at him, gave his hand a squeeze, and turned back to the woman. “We’ll know when we see it,” she informed her. “Can we just have a look around?”

“Sure,” the woman - whose name tag read Annette - said, giving the two of them a nod. “Have at it. I’ll just be over here. Call if you need anything.”

“We will,” John assured her with that charming smile of his. “Thanks, Annette.”

“Of course.”

John held the door open for Stella as they progressed into the next room, grinning down at her as she ducked under his arm.

Laughing, Stella stepped aside to let him in after her, turning her eyes on the rest of the room. “There’s so many of them,” Stella said once John had closed the door behind them. “It makes me sad.”

“They’re being looked after here, at least,” John reminded her.

“Here is not a home, Johnny.” Stella’s eyes were sad as they peered up at him.

He smiled and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I know, baby. But we’re giving one of ‘em a home today.”

This made Stella smile, and she took hold of his hand and lifted it to her lips to press a kiss to the back of it before turning back to the room at large. “Where do we start?”

The rows and rows of dogs in cages weren’t loud, as such, but they weren’t quiet either. They were used to people coming in to look at them, Stella supposed, so most of them didn’t feel the need to bark. Some of them did - dogs who were new to the shelter or else who were desperate to be adopted, Stella wasn’t sure - and some of them whimpered and cried, while others cowered in the corners of their cages, wide eyes staring at Stella and John as they passed.

“God,” Stella mumbled, peering into each cage. “How are we ever supposed to choose? They’re all breaking my heart.”

John chuckled softly, using his grip on her hand to tug her to him and subsequently wrapping his arm around her, pecking a kiss on her temple. “That’s ‘cause you have such a big heart, Stels. But remember what we said? Back in the stalag?”

“We’ll know when we see him,” she said, looking up into John’s eyes.

“Right,” he confirmed. “Let’s just take our time.”

Each of the dogs had a piece of paper pinned to the glass of their enclosure, informing people of their name, age, sex, and anything else the shelter had decided a potential adopter may need to know. So Stella took her time reading all of them, searching for the one which would stir something in her, but they were all so desperately sad she found herself conflicted every time she read a new one.

“There are no wrong decisions, baby,” John reminded her after a while, sensing her growing turmoil. “We’re giving a dog a home, that’s all. Any of ‘em would be glad of it.”

“Right,” Stella agreed. “I just want to make sure it’s a good match, you know?” She peered up at John once more. “I want to make sure the one we choose chooses us as well, and it’s hard to tell when they’re all behind glass.”

John’s answering smile was wide and indulgent, and he dipped down to kiss her gently almost as soon as she’d finished speaking. “We’ll find one, Stels,” he told her quietly. “And if we can’t decide today, we’ll come back tomorrow.”

They passed row after row of dogs, some of them jumping up at the glass to say hello to them, some of them plastering themselves to the furthest wall away. And they spent as much time as they could with each one, trying to feel out a connection, trying to imagine giving it a home.

“I didn’t imagine it would be so hard,” Stella lamented a short time later. “When we were talking about it back in the stalag it was so much a pipe dream that I never imagined the process of finding a dog, I just imagined having one.”

“Not a pipe dream anymore, Stels,” John replied, grinning. “We’re married, with the rings and the certificate to show for it, and we’ve got our apartment in New York. Not a house just yet but we’re working on it. Only thing left to tick off is the dog.”

Stella laughed softly, burrowing into his side. It still seemed so absurd to her that they had actually made their stalag dreams come true. Everything had been such a whirlwind after John had gotten back to Thorpe Abbotts - they’d gotten married in the village within a week, both of them in their uniforms, and it had been mere days later that the Germans had surrendered. They celebrated VE Day in the officers’ club with the same joy with which they’d celebrated their marriage, and then it was time to draw up plans of just what they were going to do now.

They had gone to Wisconsin to visit John’s family, just as he had requested, and then made their way to New York as they’d planned. They’d gotten their little apartment through a friend, too - Freddie Leroy had followed Rosie Rosenthal to his home in Brooklyn, New York City since they, too, had gotten married during the war, and when they had learned of an available apartment in that same apartment building they had passed the message on. Rosie had also been the one to point them in the direction of the local dog shelter once he’d learned of their plans, and Freddie had promised to dog sit for them and to help them train their new dog.

Stella and John had spent quite a bit of time with Freddie and Rosie upon their return to Thorpe Abbotts, in fact, partly because Alice had roped Freddie into conducting Stella and Lucky’s post-fugitive makeovers but also because Freddie had told Rosie of their story and Rosie, it turned out, was a lawyer. He wanted to help them tell the world what had happened to them, wanted to get justice for them in the Nazis’ war crimes trials later that year.

Lucky had also crossed the pond. She and Benny were living together in Philadelphia, where Benny was from, and trying to work out if they wanted to get married.

Secretly, Stella knew they would, but Lucky was a stubborn one and she would put up a fight for as long as she deemed it necessary.

So much had happened in such a short space of months that sometimes it was difficult to reconcile it with real life. America was so different from Europe - New York was so different from England - that it almost felt like a dream. But after the nightmare Stella had lived for so long during her time on the continent, it was a welcome dream, a miracle. If her biggest problem nowadays was what shelter dog to adopt, she really had come a long way.

“Hey, Stels,” John called, jolting her out of her reverie. She hadn’t even felt him move away from her.

“Hm?” she asked, refocusing her attention on him. He was a few paces ahead of her, starting to turn the corner onto the next row of cages, the final row, but he had stopped halfway to turn back to her.

He was grinning. “Come take a look at this one,” he bid her.

Inexplicably, her heart started pounding.

Stella laid her hand in John’s outstretched one with her eyebrows knitted together, an uncertain smile on her lips, unsure why her palms were sweating, and let him lead her to the cage he wanted her to see. And when she got there she found a tiny dog crouched in the front left corner, leaning half against the wall and half against the glass, its back to them but its head turned, its wide eyes on the two of them.

The dog was covered in sores, with patches of skin visible where its dark hair had either fallen off or been torn away. Its face, too, had only patches of hair in scattered places, with a big scab above its left eye.

Its ribs were visible in the patches where it had no hair, and its legs were shaking as it crouched. But its eyes… They were so big, fearful and hopeful all at once as it gazed up at them, clearly just desperate to be loved.

“She’s a girl,” John told Stella softly, wrapping his arm around her waist. “She only got here yesterday. And look.”

Glancing up, Stella followed where John was pointing to the sign pinned to the glass of the cage.

‘Female. Estimated two years old. Cross breed - estimated Schnauzer and Yorkshire Terrier. Currently in treatment for a skin infection, two broken ribs, and a sprained hind leg. Her stuffed animal MUST STAY WITH HER! If it gets dirty, wash it and return it to her ASAP!’

“Oh my god,” Stella said, pressing a hand against her smiling lips.

In the back of the cage, left lying sideways on the floor in the corner, was a ratty old teddy bear, evidently well loved and relied upon.

John pressed a lingering kiss to the side of Stella’s face.

“This one,” Stella declared, grinning as she turned to look at John. “She’s ours.”

John grinned right back at her. “Had a feeling you’d say that.”

They brought her home a week later after filling out all of the paperwork and being given the all clear by the shelter. By that time, the dog knew the two of them well - they had visited her everyday. She sat willingly in Stella’s lap in the car on the way home and wandered around her new home tentatively, on shaky legs and with her teddy bear hanging from her mouth, for only a few days before she settled in readily.

They named her Penguin, just as they had discussed back in Stalag Luft III, but called her Penny for short. Her full name was reserved for when she was naughty. In her first few months with them, that wasn’t very often, but as time wore on and she got more comfortable their small apartment became her playground and she did as she pleased.

When Stella and Lucky accompanied Rosie to the Nuremberg Trials to testify against the Nazis who had tortured them, John and Penny - and Benny, of course - went with them. Their trial lasted a week before a verdict was reached and their interrogators were sentenced to prison.

Almost immediately upon their return to the States, Lucky and Benny got married. As it happened, she had fallen pregnant.

Stella had laughed in Lucky’s face when she’d told her.

So, at Lucky and Benny’s last minute wedding, Stella was the maid of honour and John was the best man. And when the baby was born she was named Bambi, after Stella’s wartime call sign.

Stella cried for days when she found out.

It took a while before Stella and John ventured to have the conversation about whether or not they wanted children. They had been married for more than a year before they ever broached the subject. But all this talk of babies was difficult to escape.

It took another year before Stella fell pregnant. She was not quite as fertile as her mother had been, it seemed. Or perhaps her year of malnutrition and poor living conditions had hurt her reproductive system - she had lost her period as soon as she’d become stranded in occupied France, after all. But in January 1948 Gale Egan came into the world, red in the face and with his fists clenched, and Stella and John never worried whether or not they should be parents again.

They had two more children after that, a girl and then another boy. The girl they named Sasha, which was Lucky’s given name. The boy they named Harry, after Stella’s favourite brother. But John was still in the military and he was considering flying in the Korean War and they decided not to have any more. Three was already a lot for Stella to look after by herself while John was away.

Their lives together were beautiful. Everything they had dreamed of and wished for and more. And when John’s time was up, much, much too soon, Stella sat on the floor beside his hospital bed and held onto his lifeless hand and levelled with herself that she had had a good life, all in all. Her early years had been tough, and her early twenties even tougher, but in the two decades she’d spent with John since then she’d made a life she was proud of. She had known family, finally, which she had been searching for ever since she was a child. And she’d known love. She’d known loyalty and trust and friendship and camaraderie. She’d known what it was to live.

It was enough for her. Everything she’d seen and done, the places she’d been, the people she’d met and loved - it was enough.

She passed peacefully in her sleep two days after John, in the same hospital room where she’d said her final goodbye. There was no explanation for her death except that she’d died of grief. Of a broken heart.

Everyone she left behind, the children and friends who had become family, resented her only a little bit. They knew, ultimately, that there could have been no other end.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

The Estate | Sebastian Sallow x OC #63

Summary: Sebastian and Evangeline infiltrate the Muldoon family manor, and confront them about their manipulation of Evangeline's life. What they learn shocks them both.

Words: ~17,800 (holy shit this is a long chapter sorry)

Tags: Pureblood Politics, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Drama, Idiots in Love

Timeline: Mid September

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The Ministry of Magic was quiet at this hour, its vast atrium bathed in the dim glow of enchanted lamps. The faint echo of their footsteps bounced off the polished marble floors as Evangeline and Sebastian made their way toward the lifts. Evangeline’s heart thudded against her ribs, her mind racing as she tried not to think about the possibility that they were too late.

Please still be here, she thought, clutching the strap of her bag tightly. The Records Department would already be winding down for the day. If they missed Genevieve now, the chance to find the Muldoons might slip through their fingers, and the thought of waiting even one more day was unbearable.

Beside her, Sebastian walked with his usual composed stride, his wand held loosely in one hand. “You alright?” he asked, his voice breaking through her spiraling thoughts.

She glanced at him, her expression tight. “I’m fine,” she replied shortly, her nerves betraying her. “I just… we can’t miss her, Sebastian. If she’s already gone—”

“We won’t,” he interrupted, his voice steady. “And if we do, we’ll find another way. Relax, Evie. We’ve got this.”

His confidence grounded her, if only slightly, as they stepped into the lift. The ride felt interminable, each ding of the glowing numbers above the door ratcheting up Evangeline's tension. She fidgeted with the strap of her bag, her thoughts bouncing between the instructions she hoped to get from Genevieve and the potential disaster that awaited them at the Muldoon estate.

When the lift doors finally slid open, Evangeline was the first to step out, her sharp gaze sweeping the hallway ahead. The Records Department was tucked at the end of the corridor, its wide double doors propped open, and she could see faint movement inside.

“Come on,” she said, quickening her pace.

Sebastian followed close behind, his presence a steadying force as they entered the department. The room was dimly lit, most of the desks already cleared for the day, and only a handful of witches and wizards remained, finishing their tasks in silence.

Her eyes scanned the space until they landed on a familiar figure near the back: Genevieve Thorn, her sharp profile illuminated by the glow of a magical lamp. She was meticulously packing a briefcase, her movements efficient and precise as always. Relief flooded Evangeline, and she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“There,” she whispered, nodding toward Genevieve.

“Just in time,” Sebastian murmured, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Evangeline didn’t wait for him to catch up. She strode across the room, her boots clicking against the floor, her pulse quickening as she approached Genevieve.

“Genevieve? Genevieve Thorn?” she called, her voice firm but not loud enough to disturb the others.

The woman looked up sharply, her gray eyes narrowing in confusion as they landed on Evangeline. “...Miss Sterling?” she said, her tone clipped and cautious. “What are you doing here?”

Evangeline stopped at the edge of the desk, gripping the strap of her bag to steady herself. “I need your help,” she said, her voice resolute. “It’s about the Muldoons.”

Genevieve’s expression flickered, her sharp features tightening with something that might have been apprehension. “The Muldoons?” she repeated slowly, her gaze darting to Sebastian and back.

“Yes,” Evangeline said, leaning slightly forward. “I need to know how to get to their estate.”

Genevieve’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she straightened her posture, her hands hovering protectively over the briefcase. “...That’s not information I can just hand out, Miss Sterling. The Muldoons are a private family, and they don’t take kindly to uninvited guests.”

Evangeline’s chest tightened, but she didn’t back down. “But I am a Muldoon. And this isn’t just about curiosity,” she said, her voice steady but urgent. “Someone has been sending me threats—letters—and I need to put a stop to them. Please, Genevieve. You’re the only one who can help me.”

Genevieve’s sharp gaze flicked to Sebastian again, her wariness deepening. “And... who is this?”

“Sebastian Sallow,” he said smoothly, stepping forward with an easy confidence that belied the tension in the room. "From the Auror Division."

"And your relation to Miss Sterling is…?"

Sebastian’s smirk widened slightly, his dark eyes glinting with mischief as he leaned casually on the desk. “I’m her boyfriend,” he said smoothly, his tone light but carrying an edge of confidence. “And backup, of course. Can’t let her storm off into danger alone, can I?”

Genevieve’s gaze flicked back to Evangeline, her expression unreadable. “What exactly do you plan to do if the Muldoons are behind these threats you speak of?”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” Evangeline responded simply. “So tell me where to find them. I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important.”

For a moment, Genevieve said nothing, her gaze flicking between the two of them. Then she sighed, her stern demeanor softening slightly. “The Muldoons are not a family you approach lightly, Miss Sterling. Even as one of their own, you’ll be met with suspicion at best, hostility at worst.”

“I don’t care how hostile they are,” Evangeline said firmly. “If they’re responsible for the threats, I need to confront them. And if they aren’t, then I need to know that too. Sitting around doing nothing isn’t an option.”

Genevieve sighed deeply, rubbing her temple as though Evangeline had given her a headache. “I must be mad to even consider this,” she muttered before opening her briefcase and pulling out a worn leather-bound notebook.

She flipped through the pages, muttering to herself as she skimmed the notes. Finally, she stopped on a page filled with hastily scrawled diagrams and coordinates. “The estate is in Ireland,” she began, her voice brisk. “Hidden deep within the Wicklow Mountains. It’s protected by layers of enchantments designed to keep out unwanted visitors—Muggles, wizards, it doesn’t matter. The wards are indiscriminate.”

Sebastian leaned forward, his expression calm but resolute. “Just give us the coordinates,” he said evenly. “Whatever wards they’ve got, we’ll deal with them.”

Genevieve studied them both for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, with a resigned sigh, she grabbed a blank piece of parchment and began jotting down the coordinates, her quill scratching against the page.

"But just so we’re clear, if anyone asks, this conversation never happened. I’ve broken approximately fifty protocols doing this for you, Miss Sterling," She fixed Evangeline with a pointed glance. "Don’t make me regret this.”

Evangeline nodded, tucking the parchment carefully into her bag. “Understood. I’ll make sure no one finds out. Thank you again.”

Genevieve sighed, her sharp gray eyes softening slightly. “Just… be careful. Now go, before I change my mind and hex you both out of here.”

Quickly thanking Genevieve once more, Evangeline turned toward the door, Sebastian falling into step beside her. The tension between them was palpable as they made their way back through the Ministry’s dim corridors. When they reached the atrium, Sebastian reached out, catching her hand in his.

As they walked, Evangeline studied the hastily scrawled coordinates. The jagged script mapped out a location deep in the Wicklow Mountains of Ireland, but the details raised a troubling question.

“How are we supposed to get there?” she murmured, mostly to herself. “We can’t Apparate to a place we’ve never been, and I doubt the Floo Network connects to a hidden estate.”

Sebastian, holding her hand, glanced over her shoulder at the parchment. “I’ve got an idea,” he said casually, though there was a spark of mischief in his tone.

She folded the parchment carefully and slipped it into her bag, crossing her arms as she gave him a pointed look. “Alright, Sallow. Let’s hear it.”

“We Apparate as close as we can to the general area,” he explained. “And then we travel the rest of the way on broomstick."

Evangeline frowned, the tension in her chest not entirely easing. "Where can we possibly apparate to that's anywhere close by? And what if we accidentally fly straight into one of their wards?"

Sebastian tilted his head, his grin softening into something more reassuring. “Evie, it’s not like we’re flying blind. We have the coordinates. We'll land far enough away to avoid any wards."

Evangeline sighed. “You still haven’t answered my other question though,” she pressed. “We need a specific location to Apparate to, one we can clearly visualize. Ireland isn’t exactly around the corner, and you know how dangerous it is to travel over that kind of distance.”

Sebastian smirked, clearly unfazed by her skepticism. "Details, details. We'll sort that out after." He tugged on her hand, leading her toward a corridor branching off from the main room.

“Where are we going?” she asked, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice as she hurried to keep up with his long strides.

“To the Auror Division,” he replied nonchalantly.

Evangeline’s eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Where else are we going to procure broomsticks at this time of night?" Sebastian countered as they rounded a corner.

Evangeline groaned, the corners of her mouth twitching despite herself. “Sebastian, I don’t think ‘procure’ is the right word for what you’re doing.”

He threw her a devilish grin over his shoulder. "Evie, I work there. They’re my broomsticks. Well, technically, they’re the Ministry’s broomsticks, but let’s not get hung up on details.”

Her lips twitched despite herself. “You mean to tell me that you’re allowed to requisition Ministry equipment for personal use?”

Sebastian shrugged, his grin widening. “Not exactly. But considering this is an off-the-books mission to uncover death threats sent to a young woman—who also happens to be the woman I’m madly in love with—I think we can make an exception.”

Evangeline stumbled slightly, her face heating at the casual way he’d said it. “Sebastian,” she hissed, glancing around to make sure no one had overheard. “You can’t just—”

“ I meant what I said,” he interrupted, coming to a stop in front of a heavy wooden door marked Auror Division—Authorized Personnel Only.

Before she could respond, he'd unlocked the door, ushering her inside. Desks were still scattered with case files and enchanted quills, but the space was empty at this hour.

Sebastian strode confidently toward a set of storage lockers along the far wall, pulling a key from his pocket and unlocking one of the compartments.

Evangeline crossed her arms, watching as he retrieved two sleek broomsticks, their polished handles glinting faintly in the low light. He tossed one over his shoulder and carried the other in his free hand as he returned to her side.

“Ta-da,” he said, presenting the broomsticks with a flourish. “Top-of-the-line Ministry brooms. Fast, durable, and enchantment-resistant. Perfect for a little adventure in the Irish countryside.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And if someone notices they’re missing?”

“They won’t. Besides, it’s for a good cause. And I’ll bring them back in one piece.... probably," he teased, handing her one of the broomsticks. “Now, are you ready to go storm the Muldoon estate?”

Evangeline took the broom, her fingers tightening around the smooth handle as she met his gaze. Despite the absurdity of the situation, she felt a flicker of confidence, bolstered by his unwavering determination.

“Let’s do it,” she said, her voice firm.

Sebastian’s grin softened into something warmer as he reached for her free hand, giving it a brief squeeze. “That’s my girl.”

Her heart skipped at the words, but she didn’t let herself dwell on them. Together, they turned and left the Auror Division, their footsteps echoing in the quiet corridors as they made their way back toward the atrium. The anticipation of what lay ahead buzzed in the air between them, both exhilarating and daunting.

The only question left was where they'd apparate to. Evangeline sighed, mulling it over. She opened her mouth to ask Sebastian for his thoughts, but the words caught in her throat.

An idea, unbidden but suddenly clear, swept over her. She could visualize a place—a place she knew in detail, down to the creaking floorboards and the ivy crawling up its crumbling walls.

St. Brigid’s House.

The memory of the weather-worn orphanage on the Irish coast surfaced, vivid and bittersweet. She could still see its stone facade, battered by the salt-laden wind, the overgrown garden that no one had tended in years, and the narrow gravel path leading to the wooden front door. It had been her home before Hogwarts, a secluded corner of the world, tucked away where few cared to look.

“I know where we can go,” she said softly, her voice cutting through the cool night air. "Where we can apparate."

Sebastian stopped, turning to her with a raised eyebrow. “Oh? Where?”

“St. Brigid’s House,” she replied, her tone steady but tinged with a quiet weight. “The orphanage where I grew up. I know it well enough to get us there safely.”

Sebastian’s brow furrowed, his teasing smirk slipping into a more serious expression. “Are you sure? We can't afford to be seen by any muggles."

Evangeline nodded, her grip on the strap of her bag tightening slightly. “There’s an old mill house on the property, just beyond the orphanage grounds. It’s been abandoned for decades—no one will see us there., especially not with the cover of night on our side.”

Sebastian held her gaze for a moment longer before nodding, his expression softening. “Alright. If you’re sure, let’s do it.”

Drawing her wand, Evangeline tightened her grip on his hand. “Hold on."

Closing her eyes, she focused on the image of the mill house—the jagged stone walls overrun with moss, the uneven ground littered with wildflowers, and the faint smell of damp earth and salt.

With a sharp twist, the air around them compressed, the pull of apparition wrenching them from the Ministry and into the ether. The sensation was familiar yet unsettling, a rush of wind and pressure that seemed to stretch eternity into seconds.

When the world righted itself, they landed with a soft pop on uneven ground. Evangeline opened her eyes, and they stood inside the weathered structure, its stone walls half-collapsed and overrun with ivy. Moonlight spilled through the missing roof, illuminating the interior in a faint, silvery glow.

Sebastian released her hand, his gaze sweeping the area with quiet curiosity. “I see what you mean about it being abandoned,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Evangeline barely registered Sebastian’s words as her gaze shifted, drawn toward the orphanage in the distance.

St. Brigid’s House stood quiet and imposing under the moonlight, its weathered stone walls illuminated by the faint glow of lights from within the windows. Her breath hitched at the sight, a strange, bittersweet ache blooming in her chest.

She hadn’t thought of this place for a long time—at least, not like this, not with the weight of all the memories pressing down on her. She could still hear the creak of the floorboards, the way the wind howled through the cracks in the old wooden door, the faint laughter of children echoing in the halls. And yet, despite the faint glow from its windows, it still felt as lonely as ever.

Sebastian, noticing her silence, followed her gaze. His brow furrowed as he studied the building, its silhouette stark against the darkened sky.

He stepped closer, slipping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her gently against him. She stiffened slightly at first, caught off guard, but then relaxed into his warmth, her head resting lightly against his chest.

"It must be strange... being back here," He murmured against her hair.

Evangeline nodded faintly. "It feels… frozen in time. Like nothing’s changed, but everything’s different.”

Sebastian tightened his arm around her, his voice quiet but steady. "I... can’t imagine what it must have been like growing up here."

She let out a soft, humorless laugh. "Lonely. That’s the best word for it. The other kids came and went, but I… I stayed. For years. Always hoping, always waiting, but no one ever came for me."

Her voice wavered, the ache in her chest blooming sharper as she spoke the words aloud. "I hated it here, Sebastian. I hated how small and forgotten it made me feel. But it was all I had. For a long time, it was the only place I belonged."

Sebastian glanced back at the orphanage, its quiet, stoic presence casting a shadow that seemed to stretch far beyond its walls, his brow furrowing. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"As long as I'm around, you'll never be alone again, Evangeline."

She closed her eyes, the warmth of his words wrapping around her like a blanket, the tension in her chest easing just enough to allow her to breathe deeply again. She straightened her shoulders.

"Come on," she murmured against his chest. "The Muldoon estate isn’t going to find itself."

Sebastian broke their embrace gently, his hand sliding down her arm as he stepped back, his gaze lingering on her face for a moment. “Alright, Sterling,” he said softly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Lead the way.”

They mounted their brooms, the soft rustle of leaves and the faint roar of distant waves filling the silence around them. With a shared glance, they kicked off, rising smoothly into the night sky. The wind whipped around them as they soared higher, the vast expanse of stars stretching endlessly above.

It was exhilarating, but Evangeline’s stomach churned as a realization hit her like a Bludger. She cursed softly under her breath, gripping the broomstick tighter.

“What is it?” Sebastian called over the rush of the wind, his broom gliding effortlessly beside hers.

Evangeline winced. “I didn’t think about how we’re supposed to navigate to the coordinates,” she admitted, her voice tinged with frustration. “I don’t have a map, and I didn’t plan for—”

“Relax,” Sebastian interrupted, his tone calm and reassuring. “We’ve got the stars.”

She blinked at him. “...The stars?”

He nodded, already pulling the parchment with the coordinates from her bag. “It’s simple. We use the constellations to match the location. I’ll guide us.”

Evangeline stared at him, her brow furrowing in surprise. “Since when do you know how to navigate by the stars? You dropped Astronomy after fifth year.”

Sebastian grinned. “Auror training. They make sure you’re prepared for… well, pretty much anything. Including chasing dark wizards across remote wilderness.”

Evangeline watched as he glanced between the parchment and the sky, his brow furrowed in concentration. The moonlight cast soft shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp curve of his jaw and the determined set of his mouth.

Evangeline’s chest tightened unexpectedly. She knew she should be focused—on the Muldoons, the coordinates, the looming danger—but her thoughts kept slipping. There was something about the way Sebastian carried himself, so steady and sure, his every movement purposeful. He was so good to her, always in her corner, and he looked so effortlessly captivating just being himself—it left her breathless.

Without thinking, she reached out, her fingers brushing his face. He turned toward her, startled, and before he could say anything, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

Sebastian froze for a moment, the wind tugging at his hair as he stared at her in stunned silence. Then, a slow, crooked grin spread across his face.

“Well, that’s one way to motivate a navigator,” he teased, his tone light but carrying a warmth that made her chest flutter.

Evangeline let out a soft laugh, her cheeks warming as she pulled back slightly. “You’ve earned it,” she replied, trying to sound nonchalant despite the way her heart raced. “After all, I need you to get us there in one piece.”

Sebastian’s grin widened, his dark eyes glinting with playful affection. “With rewards like that, I’ll make sure we don’t even hit a stray gust of wind.”

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “Just focus on the stars, Sallow.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he turned his attention back to the parchment and the glittering constellations above. His brow furrowed slightly as he matched the coordinates to their celestial markers.

Evangeline adjusted her grip on the broomstick and focused on the horizon. “What’s the verdict? Do you have us pointed in the right direction?”

Sebastian glanced at her, his smirk returning. “Always. Follow me.”

He angled his broom and surged ahead, the starlit sky stretching before them. Evangeline followed, the cool wind cutting through her hair as they flew in tandem.

They flew in companionable silence, the rhythmic rush of air and the occasional call of a distant owl the only sounds to break the quiet. It was peaceful in a way Evangeline hadn’t anticipated, the tension ebbing slightly as they soared through the night.

As time passed, she noticed a subtle shift in the landscape. The rolling fields grew steeper, their shadows deepening as jagged cliffs and dense woods replaced the open expanses. Mountains began to rise in the distance, their silhouettes stark against the starry backdrop.

Her grip on the broom tightened slightly, anticipation coiling in her chest. They were getting close—she could feel it.

Sebastian glanced back at her briefly, his silhouette outlined by the faint glow of moonlight. He gestured downward, and she nodded, adjusting her angle as he began to lead them into a gradual descent.

The air grew cooler as they approached the ground, the scent of damp earth and pine filling her senses. Sebastian guided them with precision, weaving through the thickening trees and avoiding rocky outcroppings with ease. He landed smoothly in a small clearing tucked between towering evergreens, the soft crunch of grass beneath his feet the only sound to mark their arrival.

Evangeline followed. She dismounted and steadied her broom, her eyes flicking to Sebastian as he folded the parchment and tucked it into his pocket

"So," he began, leaning his broomstick up against a tree. "Anymore of those rewards? I did get us here safe and sound."

Evangeline raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “You really don’t miss an opportunity, do you?”

Sebastian leaned casually against his broomstick, his grin widening. “Life’s too short to pass them up.”

She rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her chest betrayed her attempt to act unimpressed. “Let’s make sure we’re in one piece after this before you start demanding any more rewards.”

Sebastian chuckled, pushing off the broomstick and stepping closer. “Fair enough. But I’m keeping a tally.”

“Of course you are,” Evangeline replied dryly, though the affection in her tone softened the words.

She turned her attention to the clearing, her gaze sweeping over the darkened woods surrounding them. The faint hum of magic in the air was unmistakable now, a subtle vibration that prickled at her senses. They were close. She pulled her wand from its holster as her focus sharpened.

Sebastian shifted his stance and drew his wand as well. His earlier playfulness slipped into something more serious as he scanned the area. “Feel that?” he asked quietly.

Evangeline nodded, her voice low. “We’re near their wards."

“Any chance we can just knock politely and hope they’re in a good mood?”

Evangeline gave him a sidelong glance. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

He sighed, his wand steady in his hand. “Well there's only one way to find out. Let’s see if the Muldoons are feeling hospitable tonight.”

Evangeline stepped forward, her wand at the ready, the faint hum of magic growing stronger with each step. The air around them seemed to thicken, charged with an almost tangible energy. It wasn’t oppressive, but it was undeniably there—a constant buzz that made the hairs on her arms stand on end.

Sebastian followed close behind, his footsteps light but deliberate, his eyes scanning their surroundings. The trees around them grew denser, their twisted branches forming a canopy that blocked out much of the starlight. Shadows danced in the faint moonlight that filtered through, casting strange shapes on the ground.

Evangeline’s pace slowed as the magic in the air became sharper, more defined. She could feel it now, like invisible threads pulling at her senses. She held up a hand, signaling for Sebastian to stop.

“There,” she whispered, pointing ahead.

Before them, a faint shimmer rippled through the air like heatwaves on a summer’s day. The ward was nearly invisible, blending seamlessly into the night, but up close, the distortion of light was unmistakable.

Sebastian tilted his head, his brow furrowing as he studied the shimmering boundary. “Subtle,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t have noticed it if you hadn’t pointed it out.”

Evangeline took a cautious step closer, her wand moving in slow, deliberate arcs as she studied the enchantments. The air grew cooler, the magic almost whispering at the edges of her consciousness. The ward was layered—she could feel the complexity of the spells interwoven, each one enhancing the next.

“What do you think?” Sebastian asked, his voice low.

Evangeline frowned, focusing on the faint shimmer. “This outer ward is reactive. It seems to... adapt based on whoever approaches it—probably tailored to the person’s intent or identity.”

Sebastian stepped closer, his wand at his side, though his posture remained tense. “So what does that mean for us? Can you get through?”

Evangeline chewed the inside of her cheek, her mind racing. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But if it’s tied to identity… maybe having Muldoon blood will let me pass without triggering anything.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical but curious. “And me?"

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Evangeline replied, turning her attention back to the ward. She hesitated, the weight of her decision pressing down on her. If she guessed wrong, the ward could do anything from alerting the Muldoons to locking them out—or worse.

A thought struck her, and she glanced back at Sebastian. “Maybe if we’re in contact, the ward will recognize us both as safe. It’s a long shot, but it’s worth trying.”

Sebastian’s lips quirked in a faint grin. “So you’re saying you want to hold my hand?”

Evangeline rolled her eyes, but without hesitation, Sebastian reached out, his larger hand enveloping hers in a firm yet reassuring grip.

“...Ready?” he asked.

She nodded, and with a deep breath, Evangeline stepped forward, her wand steady as she moved closer to the shimmering boundary. The hum of magic grew louder, a low vibration that thrummed in her ears. She half-expected the ward to reject her the moment she approached, but instead, it shifted. The ripple of light stilled, the tension in the air loosening slightly.

Encouraged, she tightened her grip on Sebastian’s hand and took another step. The ward seemed to part for her, the shimmering light thinning and folding back like a curtain drawn aside. Her heart leapt in relief, but she didn’t know if Sebastian would pass through as easily.

She tugged him gently forward, holding her breath as he crossed the threshold with her. For a moment, the ward resisted, the shimmering barrier rippling around his figure. But then it stilled, the magic softening and retreating as if recognizing their shared intent.

Sebastian exhaled, his eyes widening slightly as he looked back at the now-quiet ward behind them. “Well, that was... smoother than I expected.”

Evangeline’s shoulders sagged in relief, though she quickly straightened, her focus returning to the task at hand. “Let’s not get too comfortable. There’s no telling what else they’ve set up between here and the estate.”

As they pressed forward, the magic in the air shifted again, and a thick fog began to roll in around them. At first, it was subtle—a faint mist curling at their feet—but within moments, it grew dense and impenetrable, swallowing the trees and the path ahead. The faint glow of the stars overhead vanished, leaving them in a dark and oppressive void.

Evangeline slowed, her free hand gripping her wand tightly as she peered into the fog. “This isn’t natural,” she murmured, her voice barely carrying in the eerie stillness.

Sebastian’s hand tightened around hers, his own wand held ready in his other hand. “Another ward,” he said grimly, his voice low. “Probably designed to disorient. Keep intruders wandering in circles until they give up or…” His words trailed off, leaving the unspoken possibilities hanging in the air.

“Or worse,” Evangeline finished quietly.

Sebastian raised his wand, the tip flaring to life with a soft glow. “Lumos.”

The light flickered weakly, sputtered, and then died, swallowed whole by the fog. He frowned, trying again with the same result.

“Of course,” he muttered under his breath.

Evangeline bit her lip, her pulse quickening as she scanned their surroundings. The fog was thick, almost tactile, curling around them in silent, shifting waves. She reached out experimentally with her wand, muttering a diagnostic spell, but the magic fizzled out before it could take shape.

She frowned. "It's... it’s like the ward was designed to counter traditional spellcasting."

Sebastian’s thumb brushed against the back of her hand, a small, grounding gesture. “Well, you’re the expert here, Miss Cursebreaker,” he said, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. “What do you think? Is there something you can do—any magic stronger than what the ward can suppress?”

She frowned, her mind darting between possibilities. “Stronger… That’s the issue. Anything traditional or conventional won’t work.”

“Then why not use something unconventional?” Sebastian suggested casually.

Evangeline blinked. “What do you mean?”

He tilted his head, the furrow of his eyebrows visible even in the gloom. “You know what I mean. Ancient magic. Hell, you’ve flattened entire camps of poachers with it. Why not a little fog?”

Evangeline hesitated, the weight of his suggestion settling over her. “I... maybe you're right."

Closing her eyes, Evangeline focused inward, seeking the familiar spark of ancient magic buried deep within her. It stirred in response, a warm, humming pulse that spread through her veins like liquid light. She exhaled slowly, raising her hand and willing the magic to rise.

The air around her shimmered faintly, a soft glow emanating from her skin. The fog reacted immediately, pulling back in swirling tendrils as if repelled by the energy. Encouraged, Evangeline pushed harder, channeling the magic outward in a slow, deliberate wave.

The fog dissipated further, peeling away in curling wisps until the path ahead became clear. Tall trees framed the trail, their gnarled branches twisting skyward, and in the distance, a faint glow marked the edges of another barrier.

She opened her eyes. The oppressive silence had lifted, replaced by the rustle of leaves in a gentle breeze. The clarity felt like a breath of fresh air.

Sebastian let out a low whistle, his gaze sweeping over the now-visible path. “You’ve outdone yourself, Evie."

Evangeline turned to him, her breath still evening out. “I wouldn’t have thought of it if you hadn’t said something. You’re brilliant, you know that?”

Sebastian’s grin widened. “I’ll add it to my list,” he added, leaning in slightly, “Since I believe this earns me another reward.”

Evangeline raised an eyebrow, but she couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips. “You’re really not going to let that go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” he replied smoothly, his tone light but his expression warm. “A man’s got to take credit where it’s due.”

She shook her head, the warmth in her chest spreading. "Fine. You're right, you deserve it. Now come on, I think there's only one ward left to go."

They pressed forward, and the next barrier came into clear view. Unlike the shimmering fog, this ward was visible—an intricate lattice of golden threads woven tightly together; it stretched high above them, reaching into the treetops and forming a dome-like barrier.

Sebastian slowed to a stop beside her, his gaze fixed on the glowing threads. “This one looks... less welcoming,” he muttered, his grip tightening slightly on his wand.

Evangeline nodded, studying the barrier intently. The magic here was different—sharper, more deliberate. It didn’t hum like the fog had; it thrummed, the vibrations deep and commanding.

Her wand moved in slow, precise motions as she examined the magic. "It’s not reactive like the first one,” she said, tilting her head. “This feels like a test. A puzzle.”

Sebastian watched her work, his expression thoughtful. “Alright, so what do we do? Pick the right thread to pull? Cut the wrong one and we get blown to bits?”

Evangeline nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Something like that,” she murmured, her wand tracing slow arcs through the air as she examined the glowing lattice. “But it’s not about pulling the threads. We need to find the weak point—a flaw in the weave. All wards have one. You just have to know where to look.”

Sebastian tilted his head, watching her with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. “So, this is what they’re teaching you at the Ministry, huh? Spending your days unraveling magical traps?”

She shot him a quick look, one corner of her mouth twitching upward despite the tension. “If only it were that exciting. Half the time, it’s combing through records and old manuscripts, trying to figure out why some ancient wizard decided to curse their favorite cauldron.”

"Almost as exciting as all the case reports I get to read in the Auror Division," he quipped, his smirk widening.

Evangeline smirked, her gaze flicking toward Sebastian. “One day, they’ll let us do the fun stuff. Until then, we’ll just have to make our own adventures.” She paused, raising an eyebrow at him. “Aren’t you glad I let you come along for this one?”

Sebastian chuckled, leaning casually on his wand. “Oh, absolutely. Nothing like a midnight stroll through cursed woods with you to keep things interesting.”

She chuckled, her focus shifting back to the golden lattice as she studied its intricate weave. Her wand moved in slow, deliberate arcs, tracing the faint pulses of magic that radiated from the barrier. The threads thrummed softly, their vibrations resonating in her chest as she walked.

“It’s woven so tightly,” she murmured after a moment, half to herself. “The threads are layered, overlapping..."

Sebastian stepped closer, his brow furrowed. “Can you still break through it?”

Evangeline nodded, her lips pressing into a determined line. “I just need to find the right angle..."

She continued her circuit around the barrier, her wand tip glowing faintly as she used a diagnostic spell. The golden threads rippled in response, their light dimming briefly before returning to their steady glow. Sebastian followed silently, his eyes scanning the forest around them as she worked.

After a few minutes, Evangeline stopped, her gaze locking onto a section of the lattice where the threads seemed to shimmer unevenly. She tilted her head, her wand moving in small, precise circles as she examined the anomaly.

“Here,” she said, tilting her head to give Sebastian a better view. “Do you see how the light flickers slightly, like it’s out of sync with the rest of the ward?”

Sebastian squinted, leaning closer, but the golden threads looked as impenetrable as ever to him. “Honestly? No. It all looks the same to me.”

She huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “It’s subtle—really subtle. The imbalance is almost imperceptible, but it’s there. The magic here isn’t flowing as smoothly as it should. That’s the weak point.”

Sebastian straightened, his expression a mix of admiration and disbelief. “I’d never have spotted that in a million years. Good thing I’m not a cursebreaker.”

Evangeline rolled her eyes, though her lips twitched into a small smile. “You could do anything you want, Sebastian. You’d just need to practice—like I’ve been doing for months.”

He gave her a lopsided grin. “That’s sweet of you to say, Evie, but I think I’ll leave the ancient magical puzzles to you. I’ll stick with chasing down dark wizards.”

“Suit yourself,” she teased, her tone light despite the tension in the air. Turning her attention back to the lattice, she studied it for another moment before speaking again. “I think we need to apply force—immense force—right here at this spot. The ward’s designed to absorb energy across its entire structure, but if we focus everything on the weak point, it’ll collapse.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “When you say ‘immense force,’ are we talking spellwork or…?”

Evangeline gave him a pointed look. “We’re not battering it with a stick, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He chuckled softly, leaning back against his wand. “Just checking.”

She hummed, her tone shifting to something more serious. "I think you need to cast something like Bombarda or Expulso at it."

"...Me?"

Evangeline nodded, tilting her head toward the weak point in the ward. “Yes, you. You’ve always been better at explosive charms and curses than I am; they pack twice the punch mine do.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but Evangeline held up a hand, a sly smirk tugging at her lips. “Before you even think about arguing, let me make one thing clear—I’d still wipe the floor with you in a duel.”

Sebastian’s jaw dropped slightly, and he looked at her, mock-offended. “Evie—”

“But,” she continued, her tone matter-of-fact, “I know your strengths, and raw destructive power is one of them.”

Sebastian tilted his head, considering her words, and his grin softened into something warmer. “You know, I think that’s the nicest backhanded compliment I’ve ever received.”

Evangeline rolled her eyes, though her smile lingered. “Call it what you want, but we only have one shot to get this right. If you don’t focus everything on that weak point, the ward will absorb it, and we’ll have announced our arrival to everyone on the estate."

Sebastian’s gaze flicked to the lattice, his playful demeanor giving way to a more serious expression. He nodded, rolling his shoulders as he adjusted his grip on his wand. “Alright. Expulso it is. But you'll need to show me exactly where it needs to land, Evie. I can't see the weak spot myself."

Evangeline nodded, stepping forward and raising her wand. She murmured a quick incantation, and a faint, glowing circle appeared around the weak point. The golden threads shimmered faintly as the marker charm took hold, clearly outlining the precise spot.

“There,” she said, stepping back and lowering her wand. “You can’t miss it now. Just focus everything you’ve got right in the center of that circle.”

Sebastian studied the glowing marker, his brow furrowing in concentration. “Got it,” he said, adjusting his stance as he raised his wand. He glanced over at her. “Alright. Ready?”

“Ready,” she replied, her voice steady.

Sebastian nodded, his dark eyes narrowing on the glowing marker.

“Expulso!”

The spell erupted from his wand, a brilliant streak of blue light tearing through the air and colliding with the ward. The impact was instantaneous—light flared, brighter than the sun, as the lattice trembled and groaned under the force. For a moment, it seemed to hold, the lattice rippling and distorting like a stretched web.

Then, with a deafening crack, the barrier shattered. The golden threads disintegrated in a cascade of sparks, the magical energy dissipating into the air. The ground beneath their feet trembled slightly, and a gust of warm air rushed past them, ruffling their hair.

Evangeline stepped forward cautiously, her heart pounding in her chest as she surveyed the path ahead. The ward was gone, leaving nothing but faint wisps of residual magic hanging in the air.

Sebastian let out a slow breath, lowering his wand. He turned to her, his smirk returning in full force. “And that, dear Evangeline, is how it’s done.”

She huffed a laugh, shaking her head as the tension eased from her shoulders. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”

“Not bad?” he repeated, feigning offense. “I just dismantled an ancient ward with a single spell, and all I get is ‘not bad’?”

Evangeline shrugged, though the warmth in her smile betrayed her amusement. “Alright, fine. You did great. Now let’s see what other surprises the Muldoons have waiting for us.”

Sebastian fell into step beside Evangeline as they continued forward.

“Alright, but I think it’s only fair to add another reward to my tally after that,” Sebastian pressed, his tone light and teasing,

Evangeline glanced at him, one eyebrow raised. “Oh, do you now?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, his grin wide. “At this rate, you’ll owe me your first born child, Evie.”

Evangeline’s steps faltered at Sebastian’s quip, her breath hitching in her chest. It was a joke—of course it was—but it wasn’t really. Not when he’d been making comments like that more and more lately. In fact, Sebastian spoke about their future together as if it were an inevitability, a thought that made Evangeline weak in the knees.

Her mind betrayed her then, conjuring an image she hadn’t let herself truly consider before: a child with Sebastian’s mischievous grin, his unruly dark hair, and her hazel eyes. The thought hit her like a bolt of lightning, equal parts warmth and panic flooding her chest.

Her cheeks flushed hot, and she quickly forced herself to shake it off. Not the time, Evie. Focus.

Sebastian must have noticed her hesitation because he slowed, glancing at her with a curious tilt of his head. “What’s that look for? Did I say something scandalous?”

Evangeline cleared her throat, her voice coming out sharper than she intended. “You’re always saying something scandalous. Now, come on—we’ve got an estate to infiltrate, remember?”

Sebastian chuckled, falling back into step beside her. “Fine, fine. But I’m adding that reaction to my tally, too.”

Evangeline didn’t respond, her mind still racing. She gripped her wand tighter, forcing herself to focus on the darkened path ahead. There was no room for distractions now. They were stepping into the unknown, and the stakes were too high to let her thoughts wander. For now, she had to face the Muldoons—and whatever else lay ahead—with her head held high and her heart steady.

As they walked, the trees around them finally began to thin, their gnarled branches giving way to an open expanse of land. In the distance, a dark silhouette rose against the starry sky.

The Muldoon Manor.

The structure loomed, its tall, angular silhouette both imposing and elegant. The stone walls were dark, ivy creeping up the sides and clinging to the windows like skeletal fingers. A wrought-iron gate marked the entrance to the grounds, flanked by stone pillars etched with runes that glowed faintly in the darkness.

For the first time that night, a flicker of fear, real fear, wound its way into Evangeline’s chest.

Her steps slowed, uncertainty creeping into her mind. Anne’s voice echoed in her ears, the warnings she’d given before they left Feldcroft—No reckless heroics, Evie. Just come back. Both of you. Ominis’s sharp tone followed, laden with frustration and concern: If you don’t come back in one piece—

She clenched her jaw, trying to push the voices away. But the truth was undeniable: she had no idea what waited beyond that gate. The Muldoons were infamous for their secrecy, their power, their ruthlessness. Every step closer felt like venturing further into a trap she wasn’t sure she could escape.

Am I in over my head? The thought came unbidden, a small crack in her resolve. Her grip on her wand tightened. She couldn’t afford hesitation, not now. She’d come this far, and she had to see this through. The threats, the letters—she needed to put an end to it.

Evangeline’s gaze shifted to Sebastian as they neared the wrought-iron gates.

The playful glint in his eyes from earlier was gone, replaced with a sharp, lethal focus that made her chest tighten—and not entirely from fear. The Sebastian beside her now wasn’t the one who had just been teasing her about rewards and keeping tally; this was the Auror-in-training, every inch the professional. And damn if that wasn’t distracting.

Evangeline forced herself to focus, tamping down the unbidden rush of admiration that threatened to overtake her. This wasn’t the time to marvel at the way he moved with such confidence, the quiet authority in his voice, or the way he looked so effortlessly composed even under pressure. They had a mission to complete, and her attraction to him could wait.

In the past, they’d gotten into trouble together more times than Evangeline could count—reckless, impulsive, and daring. She’d taken down Ranrok and his rebellion, wielded ancient magic against impossible odds. But back then, they’d been kids. They’d acted on instinct, driven by desperation and adrenaline.

Now? Now, things were different. In the months since they’d left Hogwarts, Sebastian had been training, honing his skills, becoming someone who could handle situations like this with precision and expertise.

Her pride in him swelled, mingling with the faint ache of her own inadequacy. This wasn’t her world anymore—not like it was his. She’d trained for a different kind of challenge, studied curses and wards, ancient magic and artifacts. But tactical strategy? Conflict resolution? That was Sebastian’s domain.

And it wasn’t just impressive—it was infuriatingly attractive. She bit the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to breathe evenly. Focus. You can melt over him later.

She slowed to a stop just a few paces from the gate and reached out, her fingers brushing his arm. She cleared her throat. “Um. Sebastian?”

He turned to her, his gaze sharp but not unkind. “What is it?”

She met his gaze. “You’re the one with the training now. Tell me how we’re going to do this.”

For a moment, surprise flickered across his face, but it was quickly replaced by something softer. His features relaxed just enough to remind her that he was still Sebastian—her Sebastian—beneath the sharp edges of his Auror focus.

“They don’t know we’re here yet,” he said quietly, his tone calm but firm. “If they did, someone—or something—would’ve come for us already. Those wards weren’t just for show. They clearly don’t want visitors, which means we have to assume hostility until proven otherwise.”

Evangeline nodded, her grip tightening on her wand. “So what’s the plan?”

Sebastian’s eyes flicked back to the gate and then to the surrounding grounds, calculating. “We sneak our way to the front door,” he said decisively. “If we can get inside without alerting anyone, we’ll have the advantage. They won’t be expecting us, and that element of surprise might give us the edge we need.”

Evangeline glanced toward the manor, its dark silhouette looming like a sleeping giant. “And once we’re inside?”

Sebastian’s lips pressed into a thin line, his expression unreadable. “We take it one step at a time. Find whoever’s in charge—or whoever’s been sending those letters—and handle it.”

The simplicity of his words belied the weight of the task ahead, but Evangeline trusted him.

“Alright,” she said, her voice steady despite the nerves twisting in her chest. “Lead the way.”

Sebastian nodded once, his confidence reassuring. He moved to the gate, his movements quiet and deliberate, and gestured for her to follow. With a quick spell, he unlocked the wrought-iron gates, the faint click almost imperceptible in the still night.

They slipped onto the estate grounds, the cool grass damp beneath their feet. The air felt heavier here, charged with the residual magic of the wards they’d dismantled. Evangeline stayed close to Sebastian, her wand at the ready, her senses heightened as they moved through the shadows.

Sebastian came to a stop near the base of the manor’s stone steps, his hand raised to signal her to pause.

“The door might be warded too,” he said. “Let me check it first. If it’s clear, we’ll go in.”

Evangeline nodded, watching as he approached the heavy wooden door with practiced precision. His wand moved in slow, deliberate arcs, his focus unshakable. She felt a swell of pride as she watched him work, the boy she’d grown up with transformed into someone so capable, so sure of himself.

After a few tense moments, Sebastian straightened, stepping back from the door. “It’s clear,” he said softly. “No traps, no alarms. Let’s move.”

The door creaked faintly as Sebastian pushed it open, revealing the interior of the Muldoon manor. Evangeline stepped inside behind Sebastian, her wand gripped tightly in her hand, her heart pounding in her chest. But as her eyes adjusted to the light, what she saw stopped her in her tracks.

The entryway was breathtaking. High vaulted ceilings loomed above them, adorned with intricate carvings of stars and constellations that shimmered faintly in the low light of enchanted chandeliers. The walls were lined with rich mahogany paneling, accented by tapestries depicting scenes of lush Irish landscapes and ancient magical rituals. Plush rugs covered the polished stone floors, and the faint scent of cedar and firewood hung in the air.

It was opulent, yes, but not in the cold, uninviting way she had expected. There was a warmth to it—a sense of history and care, as though the house was not merely a monument to the Muldoons’ wealth and power, but a home.

Evangeline blinked, momentarily disarmed. This wasn’t what she’d imagined at all.

The faint sound of conversation drifted toward them, soft and indistinct, but unmistakably human. Evangeline stiffened, her senses sharpening as she exchanged a glance with Sebastian.

“That way,” he mouthed, nodding toward an arched doorway on their left.

Evangeline nodded as they moved silently across the entryway. The closer they got, the clearer the voices became—a low hum of casual conversation, punctuated by the occasional laugh.

She frowned, her mind racing. This wasn’t the tense, guarded atmosphere she’d expected. Whoever was in the sitting room wasn’t alarmed. They weren’t preparing for an intrusion or bracing for conflict. They were… relaxed. At ease.

Sebastian stopped just short of the doorway, his back pressed against the wall as he angled his head slightly to listen. Evangeline followed suit, her heart thundering in her chest as she strained to make out the words.

“…absolutely not going to happen,” a woman’s voice said, firm but laced with humor. “Do you have any idea how much trouble we’d be in?”

A man chuckled in response, his tone light. “You’re too cautious. Nobody would ever find out you stole a single chocolate.”

Evangeline glanced at Sebastian, her confusion mirrored in his expression. These weren’t the voices of people plotting sinister deeds or issuing threats. They sounded… normal.

Sebastian tilted his head toward the doorway, signaling for her to follow his lead. Together, they edged closer, the soft glow of firelight spilling into the hallway as they approached.

When they reached the threshold, Sebastian paused, his wand at the ready. He glanced at Evangeline, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp. She nodded, taking a steadying breath.

And then, in one fluid motion, Sebastian stepped into the doorway, his presence commanding as he leveled his wand at the room’s occupants. “Nobody move!” he barked, his voice cutting through the low murmur of conversation like a knife.

Evangeline followed, her wand raised, her gaze sweeping the room.

A man seated in an elaborate armchair near the fire slowly lowered the glass of amber liquid he’d been holding, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. Two other men, one perched on the arm of a sofa and the other standing by the mantel, looked equally startled, their expressions shifting from confusion to wariness. Two women, who Evangeline assumed to be their wives, were seated nearby, exchanging wide-eyed glances, one of them clutching at her pearl necklace as if it could protect her. A third woman, her hair streaked with gray but her features no less striking, rose slowly from her seat, her gaze darting between Sebastian and Evangeline.

The two house-elves in the corner, both clad in pristine white linens embroidered with the Muldoon crest, let out startled squeaks, one dropping the tray of teacups it was holding. The delicate porcelain shattered against the polished floor, the sound unnervingly loud in the heavy silence that followed.

Evangeline’s wand remained steady, though her heart was pounding in her chest. Her gaze swept over the room, cataloging every face, every movement—and then she froze. Her breath caught as her eyes locked onto the man in the chair.

It was his jawline that struck her first, so similar to the one she saw in her own reflection. His cheekbones, the slope of his nose—they were eerily familiar. Her gaze flicked to the men near the hearth, and the similarities were undeniable. The same hazel undertones in their eyes. The dark hair. Even the subtle curve of their brows mirrored her own.

The realization hit her like a physical blow. They look like me.

“Who in Merlin’s name—” the man in the chair began, his voice deep and commanding, but he trailed off abruptly as his sharp gaze landed on Evangeline.

His expression shifted, the wariness melting into something else entirely: recognition. One of the men standing by the hearth—the one with a slight scar cutting through his left eyebrow—took a step forward, his eyes wide as he stared at her.

“You’re….” he murmured, almost to himself. “You’re Rowena’s daughter.”

The room seemed to hold its breath. The older woman gasped softly, one hand flying to her mouth. The others exchanged looks of shock and confusion, their collective attention snapping back to Evangeline.

The man in the chair rose slowly, his movements deliberate as he set his glass aside. He studied her intently, gaze raking over her features as though searching for confirmation of what he already knew.

“You look just like her,” he said finally, his voice quieter now, filled with something between wonder and regret. “There’s no mistaking it."

Sebastian, still holding his wand at the ready, shot Evangeline a sidelong glance. “Evie?”

She didn’t answer, too stunned to speak as her mind reeled. The faces around her blurred together, each one a strange reflection of her own features, a living puzzle piece that she hadn’t realized was missing.

The heavy silence lingered for a moment, the room tense with disbelief and recognition. Finally, the man from the chair straightened fully, his presence commanding as his gaze remained locked on Evangeline.

“My name is Percival Muldoon,” he said carefully, as though every word carried immense weight. “Your mother, Rowena, was my older sister. I’m your uncle.”

The words hit her like a tidal wave. Uncle. Family.

The man by the hearth—with the slight scar cutting through his brow—stepped forward cautiously, his expression a mixture of curiosity and sympathy. “Cassian Muldoon,” he offered, inclining his head slightly. “I’m the eldest. Rowena was my baby sister.”

“And I’m Benedict,second oldest,” the third man interjected, his tone warm but tentative. He gestured to one of the younger women. “This is Astrid, my wife.”

The oldest woman stood then, her Scandinavian accent unmistakable as she spoke. “I am Freya, Cassian's wife,” she said softly, her striking features kind but guarded. She gestured to the other woman, who had remained seated. “This is Anja, Percival's wife.”

Evangeline’s gaze darted between the faces, the names. The voices. Each one landed like a piece of a puzzle she hadn’t realized she was holding. She swallowed hard, her voice finally finding its way out.

"I—I'm Evangeline."

Cassian who stepped forward slightly. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. To what do we owe the pleasure, Evangeline?”

She hesitated for a moment, her gaze flicking toward Sebastian. He reached out and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. Drawing a deep breath, Evangeline stepped closer to him, her wand still held firmly aloft.

“I’m here,” she started, her voice firm despite the tension in her chest, “to discuss your meddling in my life—and to put an end to it.”

The room erupted into murmurs, the family exchanging confused glances. Astrid looked taken aback, her brow furrowing. “Meddling?” she repeated, glancing at her husband. “What is she talking about, Benedict?”

Freya and Anja exchanged puzzled looks, while Benedict’s expression darkened slightly, his mouth pressing into a thin line. “Evangeline,” he began, his voice careful, “I assure you, we’ve done no such thing.”

Evangeline’s eyes narrowed, her grip on Sebastian’s hand tightening. “Don’t lie to me,” she said coldly. “I’ve been receiving threatening letters signed with the Muldoon name. Don’t tell me you’ve had nothing to do with it.”

Percival’s brows furrowed deeply, genuine confusion flickering across his face. “Threatening letters?” he echoed, his tone sharp with disbelief. “They're certainly not from us.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Cassian said firmly, his voice tinged with indignation. “Why would we send threats to our own niece? We’ve only just met you!”

Sebastian’s gaze swept over the family, his wand still loosely at his side. “It’s easy for you to say that,” he said evenly, though his voice held a sharp edge. “But you have to understand how this looks. A family of your power, your reputation—how can we be sure you’re telling the truth?”

The room tensed again, the Muldoons bristling slightly at Sebastian’s words, but it was Benedict who stepped forward, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. “Let’s not escalate this,” he said, his voice calm. “Evangeline,” he said, turning to her, “can you show us these letters?”

Evangeline’s jaw tightened, her instincts warring with the sincerity in their voices. After a beat, she nodded slowly. Releasing Sebastian’s hand, she reached into her bag and pulled out the envelope containing both letters, her fingers tightening around them as she extended them toward Percival.

The youngest brother accepted them carefully, his expression darkening as he glanced down at the parchment.

Evangeline’s eyes tracked his every movement, searching for any sign of deceit—a twitch of the jaw, a shift in his tone. But his expression remained drawn and serious as he began to leaf through the envelope.

“Let’s see what we’re dealing with,” Percival muttered, stepping closer to the hearth where the light was better. Cassian and Benedict joined him, their expressions grim as they peered over his shoulder.

As Percival reached to pull the first letter from the envelope with his bare hand, something in Evangeline’s chest tightened. The memory of the ink flashed through her mind, sharp and visceral.

“Stop!” she snapped, her voice cutting through the quiet room.

Percival froze, his brow furrowing as he glanced at her. “What?”

“Don’t touch it with your hands,” she said quickly, stepping closer. “The ink is toxic... you should use your wand.”

“Poisoned?” Percival echoed, his voice sharp with disbelief. He turned the envelope slightly, examining it with renewed caution. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, I found out the hard way." She paused, swallowing hard. "Though... I suppose if you’d sent those letters, you’d know that already.”

Sebastian nodded, his hand finding hers again. “She’s not exaggerating,” he added, his voice hard. “The ink is potent."

Percival’s gaze flicked between them, his jaw tightening. He drew his wand and gently levitated the letter out of the envelope, suspending it in the air as he inspected it.

“This…” Percival said slowly, his voice edged with anger as he studied the words. “This isn’t from us. Not in tone, not in intent. And if someone went to the trouble of using poisoned ink—” He broke off, his gaze hardening as he turned to Cassian and Benedict. “We have an enemy.”

Cassian’s mouth pressed into a thin line as he examined the letter over Percival’s shoulder. “It doesn’t make sense,” he muttered. “Who would go to such lengths to threaten our niece in our name? And why?”

Sebastian and Evangeline exchanged a glance, the unspoken question hanging heavily between them: Do we believe them?

The lack of knowledge about the toxic ink certainly seemed genuine, a strong point in their favor. But as Evangeline’s mind churned with doubt, she caught the subtle tightening of Sebastian’s jaw. He wasn’t convinced—not yet.

Sebastian took a small step forward, his wand still loosely at his side. “If these letters weren’t sent by you, prove it,” he said sharply. “I want to see your stationery—the paper, the ink, the seals you use. Bring everything.”

Benedict frowned at the demand, his gaze flicking to Percival, who gave a small nod of assent. Benedict turned to one of the house-elves hovering nervously near the corner of the room.

“Lysie,” he said firmly, gesturing toward the door. “Fetch the stationery from the office. All of it—every parchment, quill, and bottle of ink. And be quick.”

The house-elf bobbed her head in a rapid bow, her voice squeaking out, “Yes, Master Benedict,” before she disappeared with a faint pop.

The room fell into a tense silence as they waited. Evangeline could feel the weight of every pair of eyes on her, but it was Sebastian’s steady presence at her side that kept her grounded. He gave her hand another reassuring squeeze.

“I understand your skepticism,” Percival said after a moment, his tone calmer now, though it carried an edge of frustration. “But you must realize how absurd this accusation seems from our perspective. Why would we send threats to our own niece? It’s completely illogical.”

"Illogical?" Evangeline scoffed, her voice sharp as she stepped forward, the tension in her chest building. "Surely you can understand my perspective?"

The Muldoons exchanged uneasy glances, but none of them interrupted as she continued.

"I grew up in a Muggle orphanage," she said, her tone steady but laced with frustration. "No one ever told me where I came from, who I was. Then, at fifteen, my magic shows up—late, unexpected, and with ancient abilities no less. I defeat Ranrok, and only then does my notorious pure-blood family suddenly appear in the picture. Why? Because the Ministry just so happened to find out I was connected to you? Because I was proving to be more than just an orphan with a late magical start?"

Freya opened her mouth, but Evangeline cut her off. “The Ministry swears me to secrecy about my connection to the Muldoon name, but somehow, somehow, during the social season, it comes out. I don't get any direct communication from my so-called family, and yet I’m suddenly labeled the most eligible debutante of the year, paraded around by the press like some rare, exotic bird, with article after article speculating about what you expect of me. What alliances I’m supposed to forge.”

Her voice cracked slightly, but she pressed on, her frustration spilling over. "So yes, it seems reasonable to me that this is all a game for your reputation. You’re a powerful pure-blood family—this is what you do. Is it not?"

The room fell silent for a moment, her words hanging heavy in the air.

Percival exhaled slowly, his expression grave as he stepped forward. “Evangeline,” he began, his voice quieter now, “I... see how it looks to you, and I won’t deny that we could’ve handled this better. But I need you to understand—we didn’t reveal your name to anyone. We wanted it to stay secret, to protect you. That was the whole point.”

Cassian nodded, his face serious as he added, “We knew about you, yes, but we didn’t reach out because we wanted the choice to be yours. Whether you wanted to meet us, whether you wanted anything to do with the Muldoons—that was always your decision.”

“But you must understand,” Benedict interjected, his voice gentler now, “our world and yours… they’ve been so far apart. Yes, we’ve lived here, in Ireland, but we never interfered in British society—not intentionally. We had no idea about this... social season nonsense.”

“What do you mean, ‘no idea’?” Sebastian asked sharply, his brow furrowing.

Freya stepped forward, her Scandinavian accent lilting as she spoke. “The Muldoons have always been part of Oslo’s social season. That���s where the family historically determines alliances, where eligible bachelors and debutantes meet. It’s been that way for centuries.”

Evangeline’s mouth parted slightly, her train of thought derailed by their explanation. The Muldoons truly didn’t seem connected to British wizarding society at all. It made sense the more she thought about it. They sent their children to Durmstrang, not Hogwarts—a choice that already set them apart from most other prominent families in the Isles. She couldn’t recall any of the Sacred Twenty-Four ever boasting of forming alliances with the Muldoons. In fact, no alliances at all came to mind. The Muldoons clearly kept themselves separate.

The more she turned their words over in her mind, the more their explanation began to hold water. Even Ominis had said as much when he’d spoken of how the Muldoons had no interest in pure-blood politics.

Now that she was standing in their home, speaking to them directly, it was as if puzzle pieces she hadn’t even realized were scattered began clicking into place. It wasn’t the Muldoons pulling the strings of her social season. It had never been. The machinations that had thrust her into the spotlight, branding her the “most eligible debutante” and slandering Sebastian, weren’t born of Muldoon design. They were someone else’s scheme entirely.

Percival’s expression softened. “If someone used our name to manipulate you, Evangeline, then that is a betrayal not just to you, but to us. And I promise you, we will find out who’s behind it.”

Evangeline glanced at Sebastian, whose gaze was fixed on the Muldoons with unwavering scrutiny. “What do you think?” she murmured.

Sebastian’s jaw tightened slightly, his lips parting as if he were about to respond, when the sound of a soft pop interrupted him. The house-elf reappeared, arms laden with an assortment of parchment, ink bottles, and wax seals stacked precariously high. Despite the load, her movements were swift and practiced as she approached Benedict.

“Master Benedict,” the house-elf squeaked, bowing low as she placed the items on the nearby table. “Everything from the office, sir, just as you asked.”

“Thank you, Lysie,” Benedict said with a small nod. The house-elf bowed again before stepping back, her wide eyes flicking nervously between the humans.

Sebastian exchanged a quick glance with Evangeline before stepping forward. He eyed the items on the table, his sharp gaze flicking between the parchment and ink bottles. “Alright,” he said, his tone brisk. “Let’s see if anything here matches.”

Evangeline joined him, her wand still in hand as she leaned over the assortment of items. Her heart was pounding, a mixture of anticipation and nerves as she began to examine the materials.

The parchment was thick and high-quality, its texture smooth under her fingertips. She turned over one sheet, noting the faint watermark of the Muldoon family crest embedded in the fibers. The ink bottles were ornate, labeled in what appeared to be Norwegian, and the wax seals bore intricate designs that matched the crest as well.

Sebastian picked up a sheet of parchment, holding it up to the light as he scrutinized it. “This... doesn’t match the letters,” he muttered, his tone thoughtful. “The texture is different. The grain is finer on the letters you received.”

Evangeline nodded, picking up one of the ink bottles and uncorking it carefully. She dipped her wand tip into the ink, swirling it gently before pulling it back. The liquid shimmered faintly, its color rich and vibrant. “The ink doesn’t match either,” she said.

Cassian, who had unfolded the second letter from the set Evangeline had brought, skimmed the text, his expression darkening.

“This letter,” he said slowly, his voice heavy with thought. “It mentions a ‘Gaunt boy and his companion.’” He looked up, his gaze settling on Evangeline. “The name Gaunt sounds vaguely familiar, but I can’t place it. Who is this boy they speak of?”

Sebastian cleared his throat, his tone cold when he spoke. “Ominis Gaunt. He’s a very close friend of ours and an honorable man. His family, however, is a different story.”

Cassian’s brow arched. “Go on.”

Evangeline sighed. “Ominis comes from the Gaunt family—an old pure-blood line infamous for their obsession with blood purity and their connection to Salazar Slytherin. His father, Lord Noctivus Gaunt, is... well, he’s as vile as they come.”

“And what does this Noctivus Gaunt have to do with you?” Cassian asked, his tone edged with curiosity but laced with caution.

Evangeline hesitated before answering, her voice steady but tinged with frustration. “Ominis has been courting Anne Sallow—Sebastian’s sister. Noctivus disapproves of the match, of course, because Anne isn’t from a "sacred" pure-blood family.”

Cassian’s lips pressed into a thin line, his expression unreadable as he absorbed the information.

Sebastian crossed his arms, his voice sharper now. “Noctivus didn’t just disapprove. He actively interfered. Used every dirty trick in the book to try to end the courtship.”

Evangeline nodded, her gaze fixed on the letter in Cassian’s hands. “It reached a breaking point,” she admitted. “And... I used the Muldoon name to force Noctivus’s hand.”

That caught the attention of everyone in the room. Percival’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Benedict tilted his head, his expression intrigued. Freya and Anja exchanged quick glances but said nothing.

“You used our name?” Percival asked, his voice calm but carrying an edge of incredulity.

Evangeline met his gaze directly, her tone firm. “I didn’t have a choice. I... I confronted Noctivus as if I had your full backing. I told him the Muldoons would view his interference as a blemish on the Gaunt family’s honor, and that there would be consequences if he didn’t leave Anne and Ominis alone.”

Cassian leaned back slightly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And did it work?”

“It did,” Evangeline replied, though her voice was quieter now. “Noctivus backed down. He stopped meddling, and Ominis was free to continue his courtship with Anne. But clearly... not anymore.”

Percival studied her for a long moment, his gaze calculating. Finally, he sighed and shook his head. “You took a gamble, and a bold one at that. I can’t say I approve of you using our name without permission, but... your intentions were admirable.”

Sebastian’s frown deepened. “All social season, the Prophet has been driving q specific... narrative. Articles about Evangeline being the ‘most eligible debutante,’ about the Muldoon family’s lofty expectations for her. They’ve painted me as… unsuitable.” His voice grew tight, the frustration clear in every syllable. “And now, knowing it wasn’t you—knowing the real Muldoons had nothing to do with it—then who started it?”

Benedict hummed in agreement, though his expression remained serious. “We need to consider who would benefit from this, benefit from trying to make it look as though we’ve betrayed you.”

"It's someone who doesn't want us to be together," Evangeline reasoned quietly, "Or equally, someone who doesn't want Anne and Ominis together."

Cassian’s nodded. “Indeed. And clearly we’ve been made scapegoats,” he said grimly. “If someone leaked your connection to us and then manufactured our supposed disapproval, they’ve crafted a perfect storm.”

Percival rubbed his chin, his gaze sharp as it flicked between Evangeline and Sebastian. “But Benedict is right... who would gain from this? What’s their endgame?”

“Control,” Freya interjected. “If someone manipulated Evangeline's name into British high society, they’re using her to push their own agenda... whatever it is.”

“And if you refused to play along?” Anja added quietly, her piercing gaze landing on Evangeline. “Then they isolate you and force you into submission.”

Sebastian’s hands curled into fists, his jaw clenching. “That explains the letters.”

Evangeline exhaled slowly, her gaze dropping to the parchment on the table. “But how did they know I was a Muldoon in the first place?” she murmured. “The Ministry made me swear to keep it a secret.”

Percival straightened, his expression darkening. "And all these threats you've received... they've never come directly from a person?"

Evangeline opened her mouth to confirm, but a memory flickered through her mind like a flash of lightning—the so-called "Muldoon representative" who had cornered her.

“There was… one person. At the charity auction. They claimed to be a representative of the Muldoon family.”

The room went still, all eyes snapping to her.

“They didn’t threaten me outright,"" Evangeline continued. "They just... approached me. Said I wasn’t meeting the family’s ‘expectations.’ That I was tarnishing the Muldoon name by associating with certain people.” Her gaze flicked to Sebastian, her heart sinking as his expression hardened. “And when I asked for their name, they refused to give one.”

Percival’s face darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line. “No one here sent anyone to a charity auction. I can promise you that.”

Cassian leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable. “They refused to give a name,” he said slowly. “But did they give you anything else? A hint, a detail—anything we can use to track them down?”

Evangeline shook her head, her frustration palpable. “No, nothing. They were careful—calculated. I can’t think of anything specific that would help identify them.”

The tension in the room was thick, the Muldoons exchanging uneasy glances as they tried to make sense of the situation. Then Freya cleared her throat, her brow furrowed in thought.

“What about the poison?” she asked, her voice calm but cutting through the haze of uncertainty. “If the ink is toxic, it might be traceable. The ingredients, the method—it could lead us to the source.”

Sebastian’s eyes lit up with sudden realization, and he turned to Evangeline. “She's right. Poison like that doesn’t just come out of nowhere. Someone with access to it could be traced.”

Evangeline opened her mouth to agree, but the words caught in her throat as a chilling realization began to form. Her breath hitched, and her mind raced, connecting dots she hadn’t thought to examine before.

The ink. The poison. The manipulation. Someone invested in Ominis and Anne’s relationship. Someone who hated that she was a Muldoon. Someone who had poisoned her in the past.

Her blood ran cold.

“Noctivus,” she whispered, the name barely audible but heavy with dread.

Sebastian’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“It makes sense now,” she said, her voice gaining strength as the pieces clicked into place. “It’s Noctivus Gaunt. It has to be. He’s the only one who fits. He knows I’m a Muldoon. He knows about Anne and Ominis. And he’s already poisoned me before."

Sebastian nodded slowly, his expression darkening. “That's why he was forcing the ultimatum. If he can’t get what he wants—Anne and Ominis breaking up—then he’ll make sure you don’t get what you want, either..."

"Exactly," Evangeline nodded. "Us."

Percival’s expression hardened, his sharp features etched with a grim understanding. “And if you had secured what he considered an 'advantageous match,' Evangeline,” he said, his voice cool but edged with steel, “then his son would be further protected by association with you. That would cement Ominis’s position and safeguard the Gaunt family’s dwindling influence.”

Cassian let out a low whistle, leaning back in his chair with an incredulous expression. “He’s playing a long game, isn’t he? Trying to manipulate every possible outcome to his favor. And using our name to do it.”

The realization settled heavily over the room, an almost palpable weight hanging in the air as the truth began to crystallize. Noctivus Gaunt—his schemes, his poison, his obsessive desire for control—it all fit too perfectly. Silence followed as everyone processed the implications, the crackling of the hearth the only sound cutting through the tension.

Evangeline’s mind raced, questions piling on top of one another with dizzying speed. This revelation answered so much, yet it left so much unresolved. Noctivus’s motives were clear now, but how were they supposed to face him? How could they force his hand to stop? The idea of confronting Noctivus again made her stomach churn.

And yet her thoughts spiraled further. The Muldoons had explained their detachment from British society and its pureblood politics, but they still participated in the Oslo social season. That meant matchmaking and alliances still mattered to them, didn’t it? Would they approve of Sebastian if their traditions aligned with those of other pureblood families? And even if they didn’t care about blood purity to the same extent, why were they being so kind to her—a half-blood—thus far?

The questions twisted her thoughts into a tangled knot, leaving her too distracted to notice the faint sound of approaching footsteps.

The door to the sitting room creaked open, and a young woman stepped inside. She was strikingly beautiful, with long, sleek dark hair that shimmered in the firelight and hazel eyes that mirrored Evangeline’s own. Her gown was an elegant emerald green, its delicate embroidery catching the light as she moved.

She stopped short, her gaze sweeping over the room with a mix of confusion and curiosity. “What on earth is going on in here?”

Pervical straightened, his expression softening as he gestured toward the newcomer. “Annalise,” he said warmly, “come in.”

Annalise. Of course. This had to be Evangeline's cousin—Percival Muldoon’s only daughter. The realization hit her like a lightning bolt, the pieces clicking into place.

Annalise’s gaze landed on Evangeline, her head tilting slightly as a smile flickered across her lips. “Oh, so you must be her,” she said, her voice carrying an almost playful lilt. “The long-lost cousin everyone’s been whispering about for months.”

Evangeline blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “I... suppose I am."

Annalise stepped further into the room, her hands clasped loosely in front of her. “You look just like Aunt Rowena,” she said matter-of-factly, though her gaze lingered on Evangeline with an intensity that felt almost probing. “Well, except for the height,” she added with a small, teasing smile. "Rowena was quite tall."

Evangeline forced a small smile of her own, her tone cautious but not unfriendly. “Yes well... it's nice to meet you... cousin."

Annalise’s smile widened slightly at Evangeline’s words, though there was a flicker of something unreadable in her hazel eyes. “Cousin,” she echoed, almost tasting the word. “I suppose that’s what we are. It’s strange, isn’t it? Meeting family you didn’t even know existed.”

Percival cleared his throat, his tone gentle but firm. “Annalise, we were in the middle of a discussion—”

“Oh, I can see that,” Annalise interrupted lightly, her gaze sweeping over the table laden with parchment and ink bottles before settling on Sebastian. Her eyes narrowed just slightly, her curiosity piqued. “And... you are?"

Sebastian met Annalise’s gaze evenly, his shoulders straightening. “Sebastian Sallow,” he said, his voice steady but with an edge of wariness.

Annalise raised an eyebrow, her expression intrigued. “Ah, Sebastian,” she repeated, her tone lilting with curiosity. “I've heard of you... Something about forbidden romance and dramatic headlines.” Her smile turned slightly mischievous, her gaze flicking back to Evangeline. “You do know how to make an entrance, don’t you?”

“Annalise,” Anja interrupted gently but firmly, stepping forward to place a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “This is a serious matter, not one for idle gossip.”

“It’s not gossip if it’s about our family,” Annalise countered smoothly, slipping out from under her mother’s hand with practiced ease. “And isn’t this a family matter? It’s not every day your long-lost cousin appears out of nowhere.”

“This discussion doesn’t concern you,” Percival said, his voice sharpening slightly. “Let us handle it.”

Annalise crossed her arms, her expression obstinate as she leaned against the edge of a chair. “It concerns me if it concerns the Muldoon name,” she retorted. “Isn’t that what you’re always saying? That family comes first?”

Evangeline couldn’t help the flicker of recognition that tugged at her chest. Seeing her own stubbornness reflected so clearly in Annalise was disarming. It was like looking into a mirror of her younger self, bold and brash, unwilling to back down. Her lips twitched into a faint, involuntary smile.

Sebastian caught her reaction out of the corner of his eye and smirked faintly himself. “...Must run in the family,” he muttered just loud enough for Evangeline to hear.

Evangeline shot him a sideways look but couldn’t suppress her amusement. “Clearly,” she replied under her breath.

Annalise seemed to sense the quiet exchange, her hazel eyes narrowing slightly as she regarded them. “So, are you going to fill me in, or should I start guessing?” she asked, her tone breezy but underpinned with curiosity.

“Annalise,” Anja said again, her voice carrying a note of warning.

“It’s fine,” Evangeline interjected, surprising even herself. All eyes turned to her as she stepped forward, her gaze settling on her cousin. “If she’s anything like me—” her lips quirked slightly “—she’s not going to leave until she knows what’s going on.”

Annalise’s smile brightened, her arms uncrossing as she straightened. “Finally, someone who gets it.”

Sebastian let out a low chuckle, though he quickly masked it with a cough when Percival shot him a sharp look.

Annalise’s gaze darted between them, her curiosity intensifying. “So, what is it? A secret inheritance? A duel over family honor? Or did someone insult the Muldoon crest?” She winked.

Evangeline shook her head, “It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

“Well,” Annalise said, settling into a nearby chair with a dramatic flourish, “I’m all ears.”

Cassian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before addressing Annalise. “To put it simply, dear niece, someone has been using the Muldoon name to manipulate Evangeline’s life. They’ve sent threatening letters, poisoned her, and orchestrated a campaign in British high society all to isolate her and sabotage her relationships.”

Annalise’s playful demeanor vanished, replaced with a sharp seriousness. “Using our name? Poisoning her?” Her gaze snapped to Evangeline, her tone incredulous. “You’re serious?”

“Deadly serious,” Sebastian said flatly, his arms crossed as he leaned slightly toward Evangeline, ever the protector.

Annalise’s hazel eyes flicked to the table laden with evidence—the letters, the parchment, the ink bottles. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she exhaled sharply. “So who's the suspect?"

Cassian raised an eyebrow. “The culprit is likely Lord Noctivus Gaunt. It appears his vendetta against Evangeline and her friends has spiraled into something quite insidious.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of the revelations settling over them once more. Evangeline’s mind churned, the questions that had been swirling earlier rushing back in full force. Her gaze drifted between Cassian, Percival, and Annalise, her chest tightening with a mix of frustration and curiosity.

Before she could stop herself, the words tumbled out. "Before we continue... I can't keep ignoring the graphorn in the room."

The room stilled, every eye turning to Evangeline as her words hung in the air, bold and unflinching. For a moment, no one spoke.

“What do you mean?” Percival asked carefully.

Evangeline squared her shoulders, the tension in her chest spilling over into her voice. “I mean we can’t keep skirting around the truth about my parents. About why I grew up in a Muggle orphanage.”

Cassian’s brows knitted together, his expression darkening. “Evangeline—”

“No,” she interrupted, her voice steady but edged with emotion. “I’ve gone my whole life with more questions than answers. And now I’m here, standing in the middle of this beautiful house, hearing all about how you wanted to protect me, to give me a choice. But that doesn’t quite align with why my mother was disowned. Or why my parents died in that fire.”

Percival’s jaw tightened, and he exhaled slowly, as though steadying himself. “It's not as simple as you think.”

Evangeline’s hazel eyes flared with frustration. “Then explain it to me. Because even if you're not behind all of this, all I see are people who abandoned me until it was convenient to acknowledge I existed.”

Annalise shifted uncomfortably but didn’t interject, her gaze darting between Evangeline and her father. There was a flicker of something in her expression—sympathy, maybe—but she held her tongue.

Percival’s jaw tightened, his gaze sharp but not unkind as it fixed on hers. “We didn’t abandon you,” he claimed, his tone quieter now, weighted with something deeper. “We didn’t even know you existed until after you defeated Ranrok.”

Evangeline scoffed. "And yet you didn't reach out to me. You knew for years and never sent word."

Cassian’s voice was calm but carried an undercurrent of frustration. “Yes, we knew about you, but we were trying to respect your independence. We couldn’t just appear out of nowhere and demand a place in your life. You’d have every right to resent us—and we anticipated you might.”

Evangeline’s gaze flickered between the brothers, her frustration warring with the weight of their explanation. “So you thought leaving me in the dark was better? That it was some sort of kindness?”

Percival’s jaw tightened, his features etched with regret. “We made mistakes,” he admitted, his voice heavy. “Mistakes that came from fear and uncertainty, not malice.”

Benedict interjected, his tone softening further. “We didn’t know how you’d feel about us. Especially knowing what our parents did.”

Cassian exchanged a brief glance with Percival and Benedict, an unspoken agreement passing between them before he continued. “Our parents were… relentless when it came to protecting the family’s reputation. When Rowena married your father... they erased her from the family."

“We never forgave our parents for it,” Benedict cut in. “Not for disowning her, not for what happened to Rowena and your father. It... created a rift that never healed.”

Evangeline swallowed hard, the lump in her throat making it difficult to speak. “And... you expect me to believe you’re different?”

Annalise cleared her throat, her voice unexpectedly soft but no less firm. “Maybe she needs to see the bedroom.”

The suggestion hung in the air, puzzling both Evangeline and Sebastian. Evangeline frowned, glancing between the Muldoons as an almost palpable tension passed between them.

Cassian and Percival exchanged a glance, something unspoken passing between them before Cassian gave a faint nod. “It might help,” he admitted quietly.

“What bedroom?” Evangeline asked, her tone sharper than she intended, the frustration from their earlier conversation still simmering beneath the surface.

Anja stepped forward, her movements slow and deliberate, as if she were approaching a frightened animal. Evangeline instinctively stiffened, her wand hand twitching slightly, but Anja raised her hands in a placating gesture. “It's alright, dear,” she said softly. “Just... come with me.”

Evangeline hesitated, her gaze flicking to Sebastian. His hand found hers, his fingers curling around hers in silent support. “We go together,” he said firmly, his voice brooking no argument.

Anja nodded, her expression unruffled by his protectiveness. “Of course.”

With Sebastian’s steady presence at her side, Evangeline followed Anja out of the sitting room. The rest of the family trailed behind them, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpets as they ascended the grand staircase to the third floor.

The hallways grew narrower and quieter the higher they climbed, the decor becoming less ostentatious and more personal. Family portraits lined the walls, each frame intricately carved and lovingly maintained. Evangeline caught glimpses of the faces—stern patriarchs, elegant matriarchs, and the occasional mischievous child immortalized in oil paint.

At the end of the hallway, Anja paused in front of a simple wooden door. She glanced back at the group, her expression unreadable, before pushing it open with a quiet creak.

Evangeline stepped inside cautiously, her heart pounding as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. The bedroom was modest compared to the rest of the manor, but there was an undeniable warmth to it. The walls were painted a soft shade of lavender, and the furniture, though simple, was clearly crafted with care. A well-worn rocking chair sat in one corner, draped with a faded quilt. On the dresser were framed photographs, their glass surfaces slightly smudged from years of handling.

Her breath hitched as she approached the dresser, her eyes locking onto one of the photographs. A young woman with dark hair and warm eyes stood arm in arm with a man—Evangeline recognized him to be her father—his casual suit contrasting with Rowena's elegant robes. Evangeline reached out, her fingers hovering over the frame as though afraid to touch it.

“That’s Rowena and Arthur,” Benedict said quietly from behind her. “Your parents.”

Evangeline’s throat tightened, her vision blurring slightly as she looked at the other photographs—Rowena as a child, Rowena in her Durmstrang uniform, Rowena laughing beside a younger Cassian and Percival. Each image painted a picture of a life that had been carefully preserved, even as it had been erased from the rest of the Muldoon legacy.

Cassian stepped into the room, leaning back against the wall. “When our parents first disowned Rowena... they wanted to remove all traces of her from the house. Her belongings, her photographs, everything.”

Benedict nodded, his gaze drifting to the rocking chair. “So we hid everything we could—her childhood belongings, her pictures, even her favorite books. When our parents passed, we restored the room exactly as it was.”

Evangeline turned to face them, her emotions a whirlwind of anger, grief, and something she couldn’t quite name. “You kept this… all this time?”

"Of course we did,” Percival said firmly. “She was our sister, we loved her. We still do."

Evangeline stood frozen, her emotions a maelstrom of grief, confusion, and disbelief as her gaze swept over the room.

Meanwhile, Annalise stepped forward hesitantly, her movements cautious yet deliberate. Sebastian stiffened at the approach, his hand tightening protectively around Evangeline’s. His sharp gaze darted to Annalise, silently warning her to keep her distance.

But something inside Evangeline wavered as she took in her cousin's features—the high cheekbones, the curve of her jaw, the way her frame mirrored Evangeline’s own. The resemblance was undeniable. She wasn’t just looking at a cousin; she was looking at proof of a connection she had spent her entire life missing.

Her grip on Sebastian’s hand slackened and Annalise closed the distance between them, her arms wrapping around Evangeline in a tentative but genuine hug. Evangeline stood stiffly for a moment, unsure how to react, but then something within her gave way. She closed her eyes, her arms slowly lifting to return the embrace. The contact felt strange, yet comforting—a connection she hadn’t realized she’d been yearning for.

“You’re really my cousin,” Evangeline murmured, her voice soft and almost disbelieving.

Annalise pulled back slightly, just enough to meet Evangeline’s gaze. “I am,” she said simply, a small, wry smile tugging at her lips. “And I know what you’ve probably heard about us. All the rumors, the dark magic, the blood rituals, our obsession with secrecy…”

Evangeline’s breath hitched slightly, her hazel eyes narrowing as the familiar tales of Muldoon mystique swirled in her mind. Annalise’s smile softened, her tone light but carrying a weight that stilled the room. “I’ll admit, there’s truth in some of it,” she said, her voice calm, though there was a flicker of unease in her eyes. “But it’s not what the rumors would have you believe. The Muldoons have alwasy been... keepers of knowledge. Some of it ancient. Some of it... strange. It’s what we’ve done for generations—preserving magical history.”

Evangeline swallowed hard, blinking back tears. “Then why all the secrecy?”

Annalise sighed, glancing briefly at her father as she let go of Evangeline.

“Knowledge,” Percival began, “is power. And not everyone can be trusted with power.”

Evangeline’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she remained silent, waiting for him to elaborate.

“The work our family does—the knowledge we’ve preserved—goes beyond anything you might find in Hogwarts or Durmstrang or the Ministry archives,” Percival continued. “We’ve spent generations safeguarding magical texts, ancient spells, rituals, and artifacts. Much of it is harmless when studied responsibly, but in the wrong hands...”

“And you think keeping it hidden is the best solution?” Evangeline asked, her voice laced with doubt. “If it’s so dangerous, wouldn’t it be better to destroy it?”

Percival’s expression hardened, his jaw tightening briefly before he spoke. “Destroying knowledge doesn’t eliminate the dangers—it only ensures that when it resurfaces, as it always does, it’s in the hands of someone who isn’t prepared for it.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. Evangeline’s jaw tightened, her mind racing. It was almost too much to take in: the idea that the family she had imagined as shadowy manipulators might instead see themselves as protectors. It made sense, and yet it felt too convenient, too easy. And still, something in the way they spoke made it difficult to dismiss outright.

“So... you’re saying all the rumors—the blood rituals, the dark magic—it’s all just... misunderstanding? Legends taken out of context?” She asked, glancing between them.

Percival let out a small, dry laugh. “Not all of it,” he admitted, his expression faintly amused. “The truth is, some of those stories are rooted in fact. Our ancestors were... let’s just say dedicated to preserving their power and influence. But that’s not who we are anymore. Our family isn’t clinging to outdated traditions or purity-obsessed ideologies. We focus on what really matters—protecting what we’ve preserved and using it to understand magical history."

Evangeline’s arms tightened across her chest. “So what about me?” she asked quietly, her voice carrying the weight of long-buried insecurities. “I’m not a pure-blood."

“You’re Rowena’s daughter," Percival said firmly. "That’s all that matters. You’re family, Evangeline.”

Evangeline glanced back at Sebastian, who was standing silently behind her, his arms crossed. His expression was an unreadable mix of skepticism and protectiveness, his sharp eyes scanning each of the Muldoons like he was still weighing every word.

Turning back to the family, she took a deep breath, her voice carefully measured as she asked, “And what about who I court? Who I... choose to marry?”

The question hung heavily in the air, and for a moment, the Muldoons exchanged glances, as if silently deciding who would answer.

It was Cassian who finally broke the silence, his tone calm but firm. “Of course, we want the best for our children—our nieces, nephews, cousins. We want them to be with someone smart, driven, and successful. Someone who will treat them with respect and love.”

Evangeline’s jaw tightened, her brow furrowing as she braced herself for what came next.

“But whether that person is a pure-blood, half-blood, or Muggle-born?” Cassian continued, his voice softening. “We don’t care. Blood status isn’t what defines someone’s worth, at least not to us.”

Percival nodded in agreement, stepping forward slightly. “And if you and Mr. Sallow—” he gestured toward Sebastian with a faint smile “—are happy together, then we’re happy for you.”

Evangeline swallowed hard, her throat tight as their words settled over her. The tension in her shoulders eased slightly, though doubt still lingered in the back of her mind. She glanced back at Sebastian again, finding his gaze fixed on hers. His expression was softer now, the faintest flicker of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. I’m here, his eyes seemed to say. And whatever you decide, I’m with you.

Evangeline exhaled slowly and met Percival’s gaze, her voice quiet but steady. “If that’s true… if you really mean that, then I’d... like to try. To trust you.”

A ripple of relief passed through the room. Percival’s features softened, his stern expression giving way to a small, genuine smile. Cassian and Benedict exchanged a pleased glance while their wives all seemed to relax for the first time since the encounter began.

Annalise grinned, stepping forward and giving Evangeline’s arm a playful squeeze. “Good. Because you’re stuck with us now, cousin.”

Sebastian, who had been quietly observing, gave a faint smirk at Annalise’s remark but quickly sobered. “That’s all well and good,” he said, his tone measured, “but... we have bigger problems right now.”

All eyes turned to him, and he glanced at Evangeline for confirmation before continuing. “Noctivus. If we’re certain he’s the one behind all this, we need to stop him before he does any more damage.”

“Agreed,” Percival said firmly, his expression darkening.

“But how do you propose we corner someone like him?" Evangeline wondered. "He’s dangerous and calculating—I faced him once, and I'd rather not do it again... at least, not alone.”

Sebastian’s gaze hardened, his protective instincts immediately on edge. “You won’t be alone,” he said firmly. “We’ll handle him together.”

Cassian tilted his head, his expression contemplative. “Lord Gaunt may be calculating, but every strategist has a blind spot.”

“And his,” Benedict added slowly, “seems to be his son.”

The room fell into a thoughtful silence as the weight of her words settled. Percival rubbed his chin, his brow furrowed. “His son... Yes, that could work. If we involve him, we might have the leverage we need."

Sebastian hesitated, his jaw tightening as he glanced toward Evangeline. She was watching him, her hazel eyes filled with a quiet resolve that steadied something in him. Her trust in the Muldoons was tentative, but it was there, and that was enough for him—for now.

“Alright,” he agreed, his tone measured but firm. "I'll write to them. But they’re not going to go through what Evangeline and I did to get here. If we’re inviting them, clear instructions on how to access the manor without triggering every ward you’ve got.”

Cassian smiled at Sebastian’s insistence. “Of course. Annalise, fetch Mr. Sallow a quill and parchment. But speaking of the wards,” he said, his tone carrying both curiosity and a touch of amusement, “I’d like to hear how you managed to bypass them in the first place."

Evangeline hesitated, her hand brushing against Sebastian’s arm as she glanced toward him for support. His expression hardened slightly, his protectiveness rising again. "Why?"

Cassian raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Relax, Mr. Sallow. The wards are there to protect the manor, the library, and everything contained within. They’re designed to prevent any unwelcome guests from breaching our defenses without permission. The fact that you both managed to get through is… noteworthy.”

“They’re not harmful,” Benedict clarified, his voice steady and calm. “Just designed to prevent access. Prolonged exposure to the second ward obliviates trespassers and relocates them to a safe area outside the boundaries of the estate. It’s safe and effective, and those who encounter them never even realize they’ve been turned away.”

Evangeline exchanged a quick glance with Sebastian. “It... really wasn’t as complicated as you think,” she began carefully. “The first ward required me to be a Muldoon, so that was simple enough. Holding Sebastian’s hand gave him access as well.”

“The second ward,” Evangeline continued, “obviously it blocked traditional magic, but it didn’t account for ancient magic. It was easy enough for me to clear the fog once we figured that out."

Annalise’s brows rose in intrigue as she returned with a parchment and inkwell in hand, but she said nothing, letting the conversation flow.

"As for the third," Evangeline’s lips quirked in a faint smile. “I’ve seen similar enchantments before. Just needed to find a weak spot in the lattice.”

The room went still for a moment as the weight of her explanation settled. The three brothers exchanged a look, and Percival’s lips curved into a knowing smile.

“Cursebreaker?” Cassian asked finally.

Evangeline tilted her head, her lips twitching with faint amusement. “In training,” she admitted. “But yes.”

Benedict let out a low chuckle, his expression one of approval. “That certainly explains it."

Sebastian took the parchment and quill from Annalise, nodding his thanks before turning his attention back to the Muldoons. “Alright,” he said. “Since neither of them are Muldoon cursebreakers, what’s the easiest way for Anne and Ominis to get here?”

Cassian gave him a small, approving smile. “Simple enough,” he said. “They can use the Floo Network. We have a hearth connected to it.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "You go through all that trouble with the wards but you're connected to the Floo?"

Cassian let out a low chuckle, the sound joined by Percival and Benedict.

“Yes, Mr. Sallow,” Cassian said, his voice tinged with amusement. “We’re connected to the Floo, we are civilized. But we change the hearth name regularly."

“And we don’t make a habit of giving the name out freely,” Benedict added, his expression turning serious. “It’s a well-guarded secret. One slip could compromise the entire estate.”

Sebastian considered this for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as he weighed their words. “Alright,” he said finally, his voice even. “What’s the name now?”

Percival glanced at Cassian, who gave a brief nod. “For the time being, it’s ‘Wisteria Hall,’” Percival said.

Sebastian nodded, jotting down the name on the parchment. “Good. I’ll make sure Ominis and Anne know exactly what to do. Anything else they need to be aware of?”

Cassian shook his head. “The Floo will bring them directly to the main receiving hall. We’ll be here to greet them and guide them the rest of the way.”

Satisfied, Sebastian finished writing the letter and folded it neatly. “I’ll send this off now,” he said, his tone brisk as he stepped toward the nearest window.

Evangeline watched Sebastian cross the room, his movements purposeful as he folded the letter. The flickering firelight caught his silhouette, highlighting the tension in his posture as he prepared to send the message that could change everything. A quiet sense of gratitude bloomed in her chest, swelling with every passing moment.

This entire encounter had gone so differently than she had expected.

She had entered the Muldoon manor braced for conflict, her mind filled with visions of cold, calculating relatives who would judge her unworthy of their name. She had imagined herself walking into a lion’s den—facing accusations, condescension, or, worse, hostility. Instead, she had found warmth. Acceptance. A family that wasn’t perfect but was trying to be better.

They had kept her mother’s memory alive, protecting her belongings, her photographs, her stories. They had stood against their own parents’ cruelty and chosen to honor Rowena in their own way. That wasn’t what Evangeline had expected. Not at all.

And now there was hope.

Hope that the Muldoons might be the family she had always dreamed of—the kind who valued her for who she was, not for her blood or her magic. Hope that they would not only accept but support her and Sebastian’s relationship. And for the first time, Evangeline dared to believe that her and Sebastian’s love wouldn’t be overshadowed by societal expectations. That they could finally shed the weight of judgment and whispers, the disapproving headlines in the Daily Prophet, and the endless speculation about her future.

And then there was the matter of Noctivus. A problem that had unknowingly loomed over them for far too long. If the Muldoons were as resourceful as they seemed—if they truly could help her and her friends confront him—then this nightmare might finally end.

Her gaze drifted to Cassian, Benedict, Percival, who were quietly discussing strategy with their wives near the door, their tones low but determined. Annalise had perched herseelf in the rocking chair, swinging her legs idly as she listened, her bright eyes darting between her family members. They all looked so... normal. Ordinary, even.

They weren’t monsters. They weren’t untouchable elites who saw her as a tool or an outsider. They were just... people. People who had made mistakes, certainly, but people who wanted to make things right.

Her chest tightened as the realization washed over her. For the first time in her life, she didn’t feel like an orphan. She felt like she belonged.

Sebastian turned back toward her, the letter now secured on the leg of a snowy white owl as it took off into the night. Sebastian's sharp dark eyes softened as they met hers, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. It wasn’t just reassurance in his gaze—it was trust. And love.

Evangeline smiled back, the weight in her chest easing as the warmth of his presence steadied her. Together, they would face whatever came next. Together, they would protect their friends, each other, and the life they were building.

And for the first time in a long while, together didn’t feel like such an impossible dream. It felt like a promise.

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[teamchasezwrites]

Still of the Night

Word Count: 7,387

Characters: Drew McIntyre/OC

Genre: Romance

Tags: Angst-y, Fluffy, Implied Cheating, Ex-Boyfriend, Getting Back Together, Butchering of Scottish Dialect, Sexual Tones, Minor Dirty Thoughts

Summary: She didn’t want to call him, but he as her only hope.

Inspired by: @theworldofotps “Call In The Night”

Author’s Note: Written for my friend, Melissa, who wanted a Drew McIntyre story. It faced about 3 rewrites at the beginning and still didn’t end like I wanted. Maybe inspired a different version of events in a revised story. We’ll see.

“Come on come on come on,” Melissa pleaded as her engine gave another sickly sputter and seemingly coughed. She let off the gas pedal allowing the car to slow even more than her already crawl. At the pace she was going her Granny – God rest her soul – would probably pass her.

With her walker.

The car seemed to settle at the slower speed. She gripped the wheel with both hands. Each hand stood at ten and two. Her back was ramrod straight as she stared out the windshield. The darkness of the late hour loomed around her. Trees lined either side of the gravel road. Their limbs bare having already shed their foliage by the late December hour. Snowflakes caught in the dim glare of her headlights and landed on her windshield.

If she weren’t scared, she’d be transfixed on the big fluffy flakes. The perfect, pristine shapes as they laid before her on the glass before the wiper squashed them away leaving behind a smear of water droplets.

Her breath came out in a white cloud against the chill in the cabin of the car. Her heat decided tonight of all nights was the night to stop working.

“Come on,” she whispered in the silence. The radio was cranked way down and had been for the last ten or so minutes once she realized she might be lost. How turning the radio down would help her see better to find the road she needed, she didn’t know. But who was she to argue with her brain?

Her eyes peered out the windshield while shifting quickly to the left and the right looking for the turn off. No break in the trees appeared. A look in the rearview mirror revealed a bleak nothingness. She wouldn’t put it past her bad luck to have somehow entered a black hole that caused her to slip in time.

Why she turned off the highway, she had no idea. She wasn’t good with directions on a good day; let alone on a night like this with a winter storm moving in. All she wanted was to beat the storm and thought she remembered the way Jason taken once.

Apparently she didn’t.

Maybe she was supposed to turn left at the previous intersection instead of right?

Or was she supposed to go through that intersection and turn at the next one?

She didn’t know. Guessing wasn’t going to help her. It’s not like she could turn around and go back. She didn’t even know how to get back to the main highway.

“Stupid stupid stupid,” she muttered.

The clock illuminated on the dash stared at her almost mockingly. It let her know if she’d just stuck it out on the highway – her usual way – she’d be home and in her pajamas by now.

Just another bad decision she made recently.

Melissa sighed and slowly let herself relax against the back of the seat. Her back nearly cried in relief. Her shift at the hospital ended up being a double and that was already coming off a double the day before. The money was too good to pass up and it’s not like being at home was all that fun.

Her car shuddered again and she tensed waiting for the inevitable. It never came. Her little Toyota Corolla continued on. Her jaw clenched in anger, her lips pursed. Jason was supposed to look at her car last month when she first noticed the issue.

Obviously he hadn’t gotten around to it.

She wanted to call the garage in town and schedule an appointment, but her boyfriend wouldn’t hear of it. He could diagnose and fix it himself.

He could.

He just never did.

It was an ongoing issue between them. The fact she constantly had to remind him to do things. She asked him to check out her car last month. He said he’d do it. He hadn’t. She’d ask him to change the laundry over to the dryer as she left for work. She’d come home twelve hours later to it still wet in the washer. Ask him to run to the store to pick up the items on the grocery list so she could fix dinner when she got home. He forgot.

Don’t forget dinner at my parents on Saturday.

Don’t forget to renew your driver’s license.

The last one caused her to snicker. Jason ended up getting pulled over for speeding. What could have been just a warning ended up being an infraction for not only speeding, but an expired license to boot.

Of course it was her fault. She didn’t remind him.

It wasn’t like she could renew the damn thing herself.

She sighed, blowing out another white cloud. It brought a small smile to her face as she remembered pretending to be smoking as a little girl when it was cold outside. She’d bring her fingers to her lips and blow – her breath coming out like a puff of smoke from a cigarette. She thought it was so cool.

Snowflakes started to swirl down around her faster. With a flick of her wrist, she turned the wipers up another notch. Tension coiled in her belly. She hated driving in the snow. She hated driving in the rain. Hell sometimes she just plum hated driving. Definitely wouldn’t mind being a passenger princess.

At one time she was.

Last December she wouldn’t be in her current position. With the threat of the storm coming, her ex would have been waiting at the hospital for her at the end of her shift to drive home.

Her fingers straightened on the wheel leaving her thumbs curled beneath the black leather. She flexed her fingers back and forth a couple times, before she wrapped them around the wheel once more. She glanced in the rearview mirror more so out of habit than to check what was behind her.

Still pitch black.

Glancing back out the windshield, a scream bubbled up in her throat and out. Standing in the middle of the road was the largest buck she’d ever seen. Her Pappy would have been ecstatic to have seen it through his scope. She however, was not happy to see it through her windshield.

He was large and majestic caught in her headlights with the snow swirling around.

She slammed on her brakes and her car started to fish tail on the slick road. Her eyes were wide as the deer’s. Her hands fought with the steering wheel to keep the car on the road and the back end behind her. The car slid toward the right, right for the trees. Thankfully her speed was already well below the speed limit and the car came to a stop before she made impact with anything. The engine ceased and the car shuddered beneath her like it was blowing out a ragged breath.

The deer leaped from the road and disappeared into the night. Completely unaffected by the chaos it caused.

‘Typical man,’ she thought. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. Her eyes wide as she stared out into the night. Her hands still in a death grip on the wheel.

“I hope Santa demotes you!” Melissa yelled out as she caught her breath.

With her wits gathered, she let her foot off the brake expecting the car to move forward once again. It didn’t. She frowned and looked at the dash seeing the display lit up with a bunch of lights.

‘Achievement badges,’ she declared, her grin broadening at the muffled groan.

Melissa closed her eyes and blew out a breath trying to center herself. Placing her foot on the brake, she reached forward and turned the ignition key into the off position. The dash went dark. Counting to ten, she flicked her wrist.

Nothing.

“No no no,” she pleaded with her car. “Come on. Don’t do this to me.” She tried the ignition again, but the car didn’t start. Manically, she tried three more times to the same result.

Her car was officially dead.

Her car was dead and she was stranded in the dead of night.

A winter storm was upon her and she had no idea where she was.

“Damnit,” she groaned, leaning her head back on the head rest. She closed her eyes and took some breaths trying to calm the brewing hysterics.

With the freak out currently curbed, she reached across the center counsel of her car to her purse laying on the passenger seat. Even though it was the last item thrown inside, her phone was buried at the bottom.

The display lit up offering the only light for miles.

One bar greeted her and she gave a prayer of thanks.

Pulling up her recent calls, Melissa selected Jason’s name and tapped the speaker button. She didn’t want to risk losing service by putting the phone to her ear.

The phone connected and ringing broke the silence. She waited.

And waited.

The call rolled over to voicemail.

Melissa cursed.

She ended the call and tried again.

Voicemail.

Anger grew.

“On the damn phone all the damn time. Can’t even take a shit without it, but the one time I fucking need you…” she unleashed as she tried again to no avail.

The next call was to her daddy.

The call barely connected to ring once before she ended the call with a groan remembering her parents were out of state visiting her brother and sister-in-law and their rugrats.

She pulled up her contact list and went down the names summarily dismissing them one by one. She had friends and a lot of acquaintances but none she considered someone she could call in the dead of night while stranded on the side of some county road.

Except one.

She growled in frustration at the thought and tried to call Jason again. The phone nearly sailed through the windshield when the call kicked over to voicemail again.

Clutching the phone in her hand, she leaned back in the seat and stared. With the headlights cut, it was blackness all around. She couldn’t even see the snow falling any more. No stars twinkled in the sky offering her a guide like it did centuries ago. Then again, what could she do with North? That kind of information didn’t help. She needed left or right. Not head north…

Silence weighed heavy in the car. The outside chill started to seep into the interior of the car. The long sleeve white shirt and scrubs offered no resistance to the temperatures. Fear began to grow. The likelihood of anyone happening upon her before the morning was slim to none.

It was just her.

In the dark.

In the middle of nowhere.

Unbuckling, she leaned into the backseat to grab the coat she tossed in there after climbing into her car after her shift. It was just a lightweight quilted Columbia one. A far cry from her heavy insulated winter coat. She hated driving with a coat on, but especially her winter coat. It was big and bulky and restrictive. Since she only needed a coat to and from her car, she grabbed one she wore before the temperatures turned freezing.

She didn’t plan on being stuck on the side of the road.

With a few acrobatic movements, she had her arms threaded through the sleeves and it settled around her. Slightly out of breath, she told herself she needed to remove the clothes piled on the treadmill in her bedroom and start walking.

‘Maybe in the New Year,’ she thought. After all, who started new resolutions in December?

She definitely wasn’t going to make a goal to eat healthier. Not with Christmas coming up. Don’t even get her started on the terrible eating she’d been doing since Thanksgiving a couple weeks before.

‘Halloween,’ her mind nudged her.

Melissa made a face at the voice inside her head. Sure she imbibed in a few pieces of Halloween candy. She only had so much self control when faced with Reese Peanut Butter Cups.

Thinking about food only made her hungry. The last sustenance in her body was a quick swig of Dr Pepper and three bites of her ham sandwich before an emergency caused her to rush to the ER. She’d give anything to have Golden Arches sprout out from the ground. Her mouth watered at the thought of salty fries and a fountain coke from McDonalds.

Melissa pushed the thought of food away. She grabbed her phone to try her boyfriend again.

Nothing.

The wind kicked up and whistled as it traveled passed her car on either side as it continued down the road. She shivered once more peering out into the abyss.

She was all alone.

Her hands shook as fear started to engulf her. She could freeze to death before anyone would happen upon her. It’s not like there was a glowing light of a cottage in the distance. No headlights coming up behind here with an older gentleman on his way home to offer assistance. Temperatures would only continue to drop. Snow would continue to accumulate throughout the night. The weather forecasters were calling for at least six inches. More if the front dipped further south than originally called for.

“Fuck,” she breathed as her eyes grew wet with tears. “Come on Mel, think. You can’t die out here. You’ll miss the end of Yellowstone…”

Drawing her phone up again, she went back to her contacts. This time desperate.

It was on that scroll one name stood out. One name she wasn’t sure why was still in her contacts.

Drew.

Her ex-boyfriend.

She stared hard at his name. At one time a red asterisks accompanied it signaling him as her emergency contact. Not anymore.

She thumbed the screen and sent the contacts list rolling like the wheel on Wheel of Fortune. It moved slower and she stopped on the J’s where she tapped Jason again.

No answer.

The wind whistled as it swept down the road causing the car to rock slightly. She wiggled her toes in her white Skechers slips-ons. Shoes offered her feet great comfort when she was on them for twelve hours. However they left a lot to be desired for warmth.

“I should leave them a review,” Melissa muttered and stared at her phone. It was time to make the call.

Her thumb hovered over his name in hesitation. Clenching her eyes closed she tapped his name and held her breath.

The sound of a ringing phone echoed in the silence of the car. She couldn’t breathe as she counted the rings in her head.

One.

‘He’s not going to answer.’

Two.

‘He’s probably not even in town.’

Three.

‘He’s probably sleeping…’

Four.

Melissa’s heart sunk at the ring. It was going to kick over into voicemail in the next moment. Then she was truly on her own. She swallowed against the lump in her throat. Tears filled her eyes causing Drew’s name to blur.

“Mel?”

A deep voice with a Scottish lilt filled the car. It was so unexpected, Melissa yelped and fumbled the phone causing it to fall from her hands. It landed on the floorboard at her feet. She groaned and she reached a hand down, searching blindly for the device. She’d give anything to be able to move her seat back but of course it wasn’t a manual level like her first car – a ’98 Pontiac Grand Am.

Damn she missed that car.

“Melissa?” Drew pulled the phone away from his ear to stare at the screen. The call was still connected. He sat up in bed, the blankets pooling at his waist. Reaching over, he flipped on the lamp on the bedside table, a soft yellowish light covered the room. He glanced at the clock next to the lamp and groaned at the late hour. He rubbed a hand over his face, scratching at his beard.

Muffled scuffling came through his phone and he frowned. His ex-girlfriend had yet to speak to him. At first thought, he assumed she called him accidentally but the days of butt dialing were over. The second thought…”Are you drunk?”

He’d rather have a butt dial. The last thing he wanted was a drunken Melissa cussing him out… or worse telling him how much she loved him.

The latter would cause him to hop in his truck now, boyfriend be damned.

If he were honest with himself, the former would too.

“Melissa… are you there?” He spoke louder into the phone hoping she’d hear him.

“Y-yeah,” she croaked. A cough came over the line then she spoke more clearly, “yeah.”

Her fingers finally brushed against her phone and she picked it up leaning back in her seat. “I…I shouldn’t have called,” she stuttered into the phone.

“What’s wrong?”

“I-I don’t want to interrupt…”

“Melissa!” Drew snapped.

“I’m s-sorry…” her eyes filled with tears.

Drew’s heart caught at the sound of her sniffling. In a flash he was throwing the covers back and swinging his feet to the floor. Goosebumps dotted his skin from the coolness of the room. He preferred his house set in the mid to late 60s during the winter months. Usually settling on a nice 67 degrees. Plenty of blankets on his bed to keep him warm. Though his preferred method was body heat, but he hadn’t shared his bed with someone since the woman on the phone.

“Mel wha’s wrong?” Drew grabbed a dirty pair of jeans from the top of the laundry basket. The denim sliding up his legs and over the black briefs he slept in.

Embarrassment set in and Melissa couldn’t find the words. She should hang up and try Jason again. If he didn’t answer, then a tow truck. Or maybe even 9-1-1. A howling sounded close by and a whimper escaped. Her hand slowly moved toward the buttons on the door, afraid to make sudden movements. A click sounded in the car affirming her doors were locked. It did little to settle her nerves.

“Melissa, baby, you’re killin’ me. You gah’a tell me wha’s wrong?” Drew pleaded. He pulled a hoodie over his bare chest. He left the bedroom, making his way downstairs.

Melissa’s eyes peered out the windshield before looking out the passenger window and finally the driver’s. Nothing but blackness greeted her. Anything could be there, looming. Circling. Waiting. Isn’t this exactly how horror movies started? Her hand clutched her phone; a lifeline. She wasn’t alone.

“Mel… where are ye?”

“I don’t know,” Melissa answered. The window howled again. This time she heard branches creaking. A new fear was unlocked. What if the wind knocked over a tree on her?

“Talk to me Sweetie. Wha’s wrong? Are ye hurt?” Drew coaxed as he sat on his couch pulling socks on his feet. The phone held between his cheek and shoulder.

“No. I tried to take a short cut home… and I don’t know. I took a wrong turn somewhere…”

“You’re lost?” Drew’s leg fell to the floor with a thud from his knee where he had it crossed to put on his boot. Irritation grew in his gut. She called him because she was lost? He opened his mouth to tell her he wasn’t Google Maps when she spoke again.

“There was a deer and now my car won’t start. It’s snowing so much. It’s so dark. I can’t see anything around. It’s just trees. There’s this howling…I don’t… I’m scared.”

The last words came out as a whisper and Drew’s heart clenched. He barely caught any of her babbling words but those final two – I’m scared – pierced his soul.

“Please Drew…”

Someone might as well have stuck a knife in his chest. A gapping wound would probably hurt less. Hell the staples he received after his Hell in a Cell match with Punk in October hurt less. He jammed his arms through the sleeves of his coat, trading off his phone to either hand.

“Mel –“

“I don’t have anyone else.”

The knife twisted at her soft words. “I’m comin’,” he told her. He grabbed his wallet from the kitchen counter, along with his keys. A curse flew from his mouth when he opened the door and saw all the snow on the ground. None of it had been there when he went to bed. Shutting the door against the whipping wind, he dug in the hall closet for his gloves. Once they were on his hands, he pulled a brown Carhartt toboggan down over his ears.

Keeping her on the phone and pressed to his ear, he walked through his kitchen toward the door to the garage relying on muscle memory in the darkness. “Can ye send me your location? Be the easiest to figure ou’ where you are.”

Melissa’s fingers shook with the cold. It took her a couple swipes to even get the call screen to move up so she could open her text messages. It took her a few minutes to tap out Drew’s name in the new message box. When she finally got it, it was a few more swipes until she was finally able to send her location. She nearly cried with relief when her phone swished signaling the message sent. “It’s sent.”

Drew’s phone pinged a nanosecond after Melissa confirmed the message delivery. “Give me a second.”

“Don’t hang up!” Melissa blurted quickly, sitting up straight in her seat.

“I’m not. I’m not,” Drew promised. The words pretty much solidified what he’d known. He wasn’t walking away from her without a fight. He didn’t care who he had to go through to get her back. “Just putting ya on speaker.”

He climbed into his truck in the garage, turning the engine over. The truck roared to life. He turned the radio down, not needing the distraction. The air knobs were turned all the way to the red. The vent turned all the way up. Air blew in the cab at an intense rate. Cold, but he paid it no attention.

He ripped off the glove of his right hand so he could work the screen of his phone. A few taps and scrolls later, he had Melissa on speaker and her location pulled up. He whistled softly. She was in the middle of nowhere. Nothing for miles. How on earth she ended up where she did, he had no idea.

Plugging the location into his GPS, he frowned at the time it was giving him to reach his destination.

Too long.

“It’s gonna take me about twenty minutes ta get ta ya, Lass” That wasn’t even factoring in the weather.

“Okay…”

Drew barely remembered to open the garage door before backing his truck out. The shakiness in her voice scrambled his brain. She needed him and he was too far away.

The tires crunched on the snow covering his driveway. At least a couple inches blanketed the land. The headlights cut through the dark night showing the snowflakes falling rapidly from the sky. The flakes were big and fat promising to cripple the area in another hour or two.

The road at the end of his driveway sat untouched. The plows haven’t been through. He wasn’t considered a main road, so he wasn’t sure when his road would be plowed. With as fast as the snow as falling, he was sure they were concentrating on the roads in town and the nearby interstate. His road would probably be touched in the morning.

Where he hoped to be stuck in his home. With Melissa.

“You still here?”

“I’m here.”

“Jus sit tight. I’ll be there soon. The roads haven’t been plowed yet.” The heat finally kicked on, blowing hot air in his face, quickly warming the cab of his pick up truck. He turned it down and turned the vent away from him. Synthetic heat blowing in his face always gave him a headache.

“Maybe you should go back home. I don’t want you to get into an accident. If they haven’t plowed yet.”

“Hush Lass…” Drew chided gently. He held his phone in right hand gripped between his thumb and pointer finger. The remaining three curled around the steering wheel. His other hand wrapped around the wheel, gripping tight. The road was slick beneath his wheels. He kept his pace steady.

The phone between them remained silent. The connection between them proving to be enough. His eyes flickered between the windshield and the map on his phone. His blue dot getting closer to Melissa’s. The lights of town disappeared behind him, casting him in darkness except for his headlights. He met no other vehicles on his trek. Everyone safely at home, tucked in their beds while a winter wonderland was created outside their windows.

Everyone except him.

And Melissa.

“How ya doin’?” Drew checked in.

“I’d kill for a cheeseburger right now.”

Drew chuckled, his lips twitching. “That’s my girl.”

The words rested heavy between them. She hadn’t been his girl in almost a year. Not since he put her at the end of his priorities. By the time he came up for air and realized his priorities were out of whack, she was long gone and his aunt – the woman he considered a surrogate mother after losing his own mother over a decade ago – passed away.

Before he would never consider asking for time off, but the atmosphere at work changed with Triple H at the helm. For the first time in his life, he made himself a priority. He took a leave of absence from work and headed home to Scotland. There he started mending relationships with his family and properly grieving his loss. It lifted his heart to be surrounded by family; sharing memories and laughs.

Now he was back in the States. Back at work. There was only one more line on his priority list. The one at the very top.

He was five minutes away.

The road was off the beaten path. Definitely one Drew never travelled. He wondered what Melissa was even doing out here. It wasn’t close to her place. Wasn’t even on the way. The roads were becoming slicker and he grew worried about the drive home. Snow continued to fall accumulating faster than predicted. He just gripped the wheel tighter and stayed steady on the gas.

Finally the headlights picked up a car on the side of the road. The backroad offered very little in terms of a shoulder. The car sat nose toward the tree line, showing the results from the dance with a deer. Most of the car still sat on the road, an issue for any vehicle that happened to be traveling by. At least an inch of snow covered the hood and the roof with it started to pile up on the windshield.

Not that there would be a lot of traffic at this time of night and in this weather.

Drew pulled his truck nearly alongside Melissa’s car. Keeping it running with the headlights shinning, he clicked on his flashers just in case of another traveler.

The cold slapped him in the face when he opened the door. The heat of the cabin quickly overtaken by the outside temperatures. He shut the door, trapping what little heat remained. His boots crunched on the snow. With a gloved hand he reached for the handle and pulled the door open.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

Drew’s lips twitched with a smile he tried his best to keep at bay. He stared down at her huddled in the driver’s seat in the flimsiest coat he ever saw. “This was a little drastic to get my attention, don’t ya think?”

“Well when you can make a statement, I say go for it.” Melissa grinned up at him.

“Let’s go,” Drew held out his hand expecting Melissa to take it.

“Oh no…” Melissa shook her head. “I probably just need a jump. My car’s been on the fritz for a few weeks now. It has to just be the battery. I can’t get the lights or.. Oh!” She shrieked as she was hauled from the car. She swatted at his hands where they held her waist. “Grabby hands…”

“I am not staying out here in this weather trying to figure out what’s wrong with your car, Lass. If we don’t start moving, we are going to be stuck out here.”

Melissa sighed, her shoulders deflated. She hoped Drew would be able to get her car running again and pointed in the right direction so she could get home. One look at his face, she saw the decision was final. She wasn’t going to be able to change his mind. “Fine. Just take me home.” She’d worry about explaining why her ex-boyfriend brought her home to Jason later. She just wanted out of the cold.

Gripping her upper arm, Drew led her toward his truck. When she slid through the snow in front of his truck and nearly took them both to the ground, he swung her up in his arms. In the shine of the headlights, he got a good look at her shoes. “Where are your boots?” He growled staring at the white slip-ons.

“Home. I thought I’d make it home before the snow hit.” Melissa shivered in his arms, even as warmth radiated through her at his hold. Her comment caused another growl from Drew. His chest vibrating with the sound as it moved up his throat. Then she was shivering for a totally different reason.

With her secured in his arms, Drew carefully made his way around the front of his truck to the passenger side door. It took a little maneuvering but he was able to get the door open where he deposited her in the seat. “Stay.”

“I’m not a dog.” Melissa couldn’t resist as she shifted in the seat to sit properly. The blast of the heat from the vent nearly brought tears to her eyes. She quickly raised her hands to the vents allowing the warm heat to envelope them. “Grab my purse please?”

With a grunt Drew shut the door and made his way back to Melissa’s car. The keys still hung in the ignition. Her purse lay on the passenger side seat. Her phone in the cup holder. Dropping both items in the purse he hit the lock on the door jam. The mechanism clicked as the locks turned. He gave a cursory look over the interior but didn’t see anything he thought Melissa would need.

He could see Melissa sitting in the passenger seat through the windshield. The wipers keeping the glass clear. Unbelievable she was sitting in his truck after all this time. His arms still burned where he held her in his arms. He climbed into the truck and the heat hit him full force. The air gushed from the vents, turned on high.

“I’m freezing,” Melissa answered his look when he dropped her purse on her lap. “My heat wasn’t working even before the engine gave out.”

Drew said nothing. He simply pulled his arms from his own jacket and passed it across the cab.

“What? No.” Melissa tried to shove the Carhartt back to Drew. “The heat is fine. I don’t need your coat. I’ll be fine.”

“Take it Lass,” Drew stated. He continued to hold his hand out with the coat, taking her shoves. He rolled his eyes and dropped the jacket in her lap. “I’m fine. You have it like a damn furnace in here.” The words weren’t a lie. The chill from being outside was gone. In actuality, he was reaching out to turn the vents away from him. The heat proving to be too much.

“Drew…” Melissa started. The coat was clutched in her hands. The material warm beneath her fingers. She fought to keep from raising it to her nose and breathing the woodsy scent.

“Please keep it,” Drew meet her eyes and felt a rush of victory when she nodded. He watched as she pulled the coat up around her like a blanket.

Drew pulled his seatbelt across his body. His eyes flickered in the rearview mirror showing complete darkness. He turned off his flashers and put the truck in drive. Easing on the gas, he moved them forward at a crawl. The road was completely covered in snow. Melissa’s tracks no longer visible.

“Thank you.” Melissa’s voice broke the quietness of the cab a few minutes later. She watched the snow falling in front of the headlights as Drew trudged down the road. Her body warm beneath the thick coat. She had it pulled to just below her chin. His cologne wafted in her nose, warming her from the inside out. This time, she tucked her chin and buried her nose in the coat. Her eyes closed as she breathed deep.

“What were you doing this far out anyway?” Drew fought from reaching over. He watched out of the corner of his eye as she buried her face in his coat. He shifted in his seat as his jeans grew tight. He wished he did have that 1967 Ford Melissa’s Pappy used to own. Teal in color with the all important bench seat. One where he could reach out and pull her across the seat to burrow up in his side. He could have one arm wrapped over her shoulders holding her to him. One hand on the wheel. The future ahead of him.

“Thought I remembered a shortcut home from work. Apparently I didn’t.”

Drew chuckled. “You’ll have to explain that to me later because I’m not sure how any of these roads are a shortcut.”

“Well I’m still directionally impaired. That hasn’t changed any.” Her heart stumbled and beat faster as she watched the smile grow on his face in the darkness of the cab.

Melissa must have fallen sleep. The next thing she knew they were pulling into a garage that was definitely not hers. First thing, she didn’t have a garage. She sat up right, Drew’s coat falling to her lap She glanced around, eyes wide. The garage door shut behind them. The wipers rubbed against a dry windshield, bouncing over the glass before the truck went silent beneath them when Drew shut it off.

“Where are we?” Melissa asked when Drew opened his door.

“Home.” Drew stated as he climbed from the truck and shut the door behind him not allowing Melissa to argue. She was ready when he opened the passenger door.

“What do you mean home?” Melissa said as he opened her door. “This is your home. Not mine. I don’t live here remember.”

“I remember,” Drew answered solemnly. He absolutely remembered Melissa no longer lived with him. Each time he came home to an empty house. Darkness would great him as he pulled into his driveway. The windows all darked. The only light coming from the outside light at his garage. Inside the silence was deafening. His movements would echo in the vacant house.

“Then what am I doing here?” Melissa asked. Muscle memory left her climbing from the truck and following Drew to the garage door that lead them into the mud room. It was also habit that had her kicking her shoes off leaving them next to random pairs of Drew’s.

“Fixing a mistake.” Drew turned away and hung his coat up on the hook next to the door. He kicked off his own boots, leaving them next to Melissa’s. He stared down at the scene. His dark brown Carhartt boots with their black soles and golden yellow laces. One sitting up right. One turned over on its side. Melissa’s white cloth sided Skechers with tieless shoelaces sat neatly beside them. Their shoes hadn’t been side by side in a long time.

“F-fixing a mistake? What does that mean?” Melissa watched as he didn’t answer, but walked from the room. She had no choice but to follow. “Stop,” she reached out grabbing his arm as he walked deeper into his house. “You can’t keep me here. You need to take me home, Drew.”

“No.”

Melissa stared at him bewildered. “No? What do you mean no?”

“Exactly what I mean Lass.” Drew knew he was going about this all wrong. But she was here in his house. Finally.

“You can’t just keep me here.” Melissa rubbed the bridge of her nose. She was too tired to get into an argument with Drew.

“Call your boyfriend then.” Drew’s jaw clenched at the thought. Discovering Melissa had a boyfriend caused him to carry on his one track mind of wrestling. Obviously her moving on that quickly after their break up meant their relationship wasn’t as serious as it was made out to be.

It wasn’t until he took a break from wrestling when he realized what the relationship meant to him and what he’d lost. Then the thought of Melissa’s boyfriend pissed him off. He didn’t know who it was, but he knew whoever the maggot was wouldn’t be good enough.

He watched as Melissa spun on her heel, marching back into the mudroom. He followed like there was an invisible tether keeping them together. His heart lodged in his throat when she pulled her phone out of her purse hanging from the hook with her jacket. Anger rose and he snatched the device from her hand.

“Wh-what are you doing!” Melissa’s voice rose as she turned around. She bumped into his body, he was so close to her. She lifted her head to meet his gaze. Her breath caught at the look on his face. Emotion swam in his blue eyes.

“Why did you call me?” Drew asked in a low voice as he crowded against her. “Why didn’t you call him?”

“I-I did…” Melissa answered. She was unable to look away. His eyes captivated her, drawing her in.

“Then where is he?” He pressed, taking a step closer to her. She took a step back and nearly tripped over his boots. He quickly reached out, wrapping his arms around her. Her phone tumbled from his hand to the floor. The device lay on the floor forgotten. He pulled her against him. Their bodies flush.

“He didn’t answer…” Melissa admitted in a whisper. Her body trembled pressed against him. A growing hunger swirled deep in her belly. With their height different he towered over her. Her head arched back, baring her neck.

“He didn’t answer,” Drew repeated, silently cursing the deviant. On a night like this, he couldn’t pick his girlfriend up from work. Instead leaving her to drive home with an unreliable car in terrible weather and not even having the decency to stay awake until she was home safely. Disgust for the man dripped off him. He was right. The man didn’t deserve Melissa.

He dipped his head down, watching as Melissa’s eyes widened. Her irises grew heavy with desire. He heard her breath catch. Her fingers grasped his hoodie pulling the material tight across his back. He wanted to rip the offending article of clothing from his body so he could feel her hands on his skin.

“I answered,” he breathed. His lips millimeters from hers. Their breath mixed together. The press of her body to his. The feel of her hands on him. The sweet scent of her perfume invading his senses… Desire curled inside him. His dick started to thicken in his jeans. He shifted minutely, pressing his desire to her belly.

“Drew…” Melissa whispered. Heat pooled at her center.

“I answered Mel,” his voice low. “I answered and without hesitation I came. I came when you needed me.”

Melissa nearly melted against him, giving in to her desire. With strength she didn’t know she had, she broke away from him. “Now. But you didn’t before. You weren’t there. You were never there.”

Drew’s eyes closed briefly at the pain in Melissa’s voice. Opening them, he met her gaze head on. “I know, Love. I had my priorities all mixed up. I placed the company above everything – my friends. My family. You...”

She watched as he moved closer to her. She didn’t know why she was allowing him to plead his case. She should have been demanding he take her home immediately. Should have been finding her phone and calling Jason. But she didn’t and she wasn’t.

“I didn’t realize I had given a bit much to wrestling. Didn’t realize while I was giving them everything, there wasn’t anything left to give to the people I loved. I was sacrificing you and my family for the job…” Drew confessed. He stopped in front of her. Not once did his eyes waver from hers. “I’m sorry…”

“You think you can just erase all the hurt with an apology?” Melissa fisted her palms in an attempt to stop herself from reaching out. The emotions swirling deep in his eyes called out to her. She could see the hurt and sadness. She could also read the resignation in them. As if he knew his actions had lost her to him forever.

“It’s all I got Lass,” he admitted. He raised his hand and brushed the short blonde hair from her face. Her skin soft beneath his fingers. Her eyes closed at his touch and she nuzzled his hand. He brought his other hand up and cupped her face with both hands. He tilted her face up and waited for her eyes to open.

When her eyes blinked open, he lowered his head. Her breath quickened. He brushed his lips softly against hers. A short whisper of a kiss. He pulled back slightly, his hands still on her cheeks. His thumbs caressing back and forth. “I know you’re not gonna jus forgive me. I know I have my work cu’ ou’ for me to earn your trust back. I know I don’ deserve a second chance, but I love you.”

Melissa’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened at Drew’s declaration. Her hands rose and pressed against his chest. Her fingers clinging to the hoodie. She stared in his eyes, unable to look away. His voice – soft and deep with his accent more pronounced – wrapped around her.

“The past couple months… it’s been eye openin’ for me. I can see everything I did wrong. The mistakes I made… I see it all now. The family I though’ I had wasn’t there. I was losing my real family by givin’ to an industry that wasn’t givin’ back. I started mendin’ that. After coming home from Scotland… this empty house without you here… I was comin’.”

“I have a boyfriend,” Melissa said weakly. Though try telling her body that piece of information. Her hands on his chest. Her lower half pressing against him. Her heart swooning over his accent...his words. Falling all over again.

“I don’t care,” Drew said matter-of-factly. The tips of his fingers slid into her hair. “I don’t care what boyfriend you have. I don’t care who is in my way when it comes to you. Nothin’ will stop me from getting’ to ya.”

Desire coursed through her at his words, pooling at her center. She knew Drew meant the words he said. He would do anything and everything to get her back. She shivered. The words almost made her want to test him. To brush him off right now. To make him work to get her back. To make him prove what he spoke was the truth.

“I won’t force ya to stay here,” Drew continued. He knew he had to say the words, but they stuck in his throat. Sour. “You want to go home, just say so.” It was the step in the right direction in order to win her back. Kidnapping her did have its advantages. It crossed his mind to take her upstairs to his bed and kiss every inch of her skin until she was begging for him to claim her. Then take her until she was shouting out in the silence of the house she was his until her voice was raw as they spilled over into ecstasy.

It was less than a split second. Melissa’s hands were moving up his chest. Her palms cupping his bearded cheeks – soft and silky at her touch. “What are you talking about? I am home.”

At the words, her lips touched his.

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tag @elsie-writes! (Finally getting to it lol)

OC in 15

How bout we give Twenari some love?

“Oh, get over yourself. You’re alive. Everyone’s alive."

“Emotion has no place on the battlefield. Better to get it out now.”

“It’s brilliant; they combine the magical with the mechanical and get a miracle. Gods, if I could just get a peek inside one of those fans….”

“Staring! I wasn’t…. Oh. Oh gods, but they were a masterpiece though….”

“Are you going to need any additional supplies? I know a little about book magic, so perhaps, uh, perhaps I could be of assistance?”

“Well, you can change that number to four and a half, because my hand really aches."

“Rich people love souvenirs. I’ll bet one of my kinsmen has something that can get us at least nearby.”

“It has been an honest pleasure, Master Bi’em. I must take my leave now, but I do hope to study under you further. Perhaps once times are not so dark.”

“Sorry, guys. Teleportation’s not so easy when you can’t visualize the destination.”

“I have water, I have organic material; I can make soup."

“I’m stronger than I was four years ago. We’ll see if that’s enough.”

“I’m going to have to teleport us there, so I won’t be going into battle at my best anyways. And overdrawal poisoning is a chance we already decided to take. It might kill me, but End definitely will. I’ll try again.”

“Spirit of the desert! I gave you the luxury of a discussion last time, but you have worn my patience thin. You have no choice in this matter—you will apportion a piece of your power to me and I will leave with it. Give it willingly and I will not have to resort to force.”

“Couldn’t have put it better my fucking self."

<It’s pretty rare for a siren to not have any bioluminescence. Considered unattractive according to my sources.>

I'll tag @literarynecromancy @fadingrealm @cssnder @terriblepersongreatseamonster and anyone else who wants to play :)

[uzurakis]

BYF + RULES!

hi! this is a blog dedicated for jujutsu kaisen, blue lock, & sakamoto days! i will often ramble about other series too, but it’s still a writing-centric blog.

please do filter the tag #jjk spoilers #jjk leaks #jujutsu kaisen leaks #jjk (chapter) if you don’t want to see any jjk spoilers here.

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i write both SFW and NSFW. with that being said, minors please do not interact with my explicit contents. also, i age up characters when writing them; if it’s not your cup of tea, then feel free to get off my page, mind your goddamn business, that fucking easy. no need to tell me and send me asks especially on anon, that’s soo lame. it’s just a piece of fiction so don’t take it seriously. thanks!

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or just your brainrots or entries and we’ll talk about it!

my writing is only limited to some of the characters from the whole series. the ones that aren’t listed, i might have a hard time to nail the characterization and a BIG POSSIBILITY i won’t write for them even though you asked for it :)

JUJUTSU KAISEN: fushiguro megumi. itadori yuuji. gojo satoru. geto suguru. yuuta okkotsu. nanami kento. choso kamo. (i don’t write for toge)

BLUE LOCK: itoshi rin. yoichi isagi. meguru bachira. hyoma chigiri. seishiro nagi. reo mikage. michael kaiser. shidou ryusei. itoshi sae.

SAKADAYS: yoichi nagumo. natsuki seba. gaku. shin.

i would really appreciate if you reblog instead of spam likings if you enjoy my works, one, i can get shadowbanned, not funny guys. two, i may consider you as a bot and block you on sight. three, i enjoy seeing reblogs especially with your comments, it makes my day.

all rights reserved. @uzurakis

[bloodyquillink-blog]

I loved your reader x logan story!!!! it made me NEED more lol. Would you be willing to possibly write one for logan x reader where they meet at heshs wedding. Logan is best man for hesh, and reader is heshs finance maid of honor. they get forced to pair up and hate each other but then fall in love by the end of the wedding planning.

If it’s super confusing that’s okay!!

A/N 🪶: I’m glad you enjoyed it! I noticed you said they meet at Hesh’s wedding but then said they fall in love by the end of the wedding planning which was sort of confusing so I made a few adjustments if that’s okay. I will say I struggled with this prompt a bit, but the challenge felt good! I'm gonna label this one an f!reader as I noticed you used her when explaining.

Warnings/Tags: Reader wears a dress, Reader is from east coast, very fluffy and sweet, Happy Ending, Spaceballs(1987) Reference, Features a couple oc!characters as reader’s friends, Logan used to tease reader for being short, Keegan and Kick get bitches

Word Count: 5.1K

Who Would’ve Thought? Logan Walker x f!reader

You step out of the cab and grab your luggage from the trunk of the black SUV, your friends following. As your group moves to the sidewalk so as to not obstruct traffic, Wanda shades her eyes from the bright sun and looks up at the giant hotel.

“Lena’s fiancé rented out this whole place?!” Wanda exclaims in disbelief.

“Actually, it was her fiancés captain. David wasn’t even asking him to, he just brought up that they wanted some place nice and spacious for everyone and then his captain took care of it all.” Shawn corrects.

“Aw, that’s nice of him. Looks like he spared no expense either, shit!” Mara laughs.

“Looks like we’ll also be with a bunch of soldiers too, so remember to be nice! I’m looking at you, Mara.” You point.

“If they don’t mess with me, or any of you for that matter, then I won’t mess with them. Might wanna tell David to warn them too!” Mara doesn’t even look at you when she speaks, you already knew the drill after having known her and the others for so many years.

A car screeches to a stop right next to you, the door opening as Kat, your best friend since high school, jumps out and runs over to you all screaming incoherently.

“EEE! My girls!!! My best girls!!!” She manages to wrap all of you in her arms and squeezes you so tight, you begin to question if you’ll even make it to the wedding without some kind of breathing tool. Her soon-to-be husband steps out as well.

“H-Hi, Dav-id!” You squeak as Lena’s hug gets even tighter. You and your –breathless– friends endure the pain of friendship while David gets their luggage. He chuckles as he walks over to you all.

“Honey, you’re killing your friends.” He says, jokingly… you think.

“10 more seconds!” Lena shouts. David looks at each of you, smiling.

“We’ll remember all of you well, what kinda of graves do you want?” He jokes. Lena finally lets go and playfully smacks David on his arm.

“Yeah yeah, can’t a girl be happy to see her best friends?” She looks over at all of you, still smiling as wide as ever. You, Mara, Wanda and Shawn are hunched over, gasping for air as quietly, and gratefully, as possible. You hold out one of your hands.

“Good to see you in person again.” you pant. David gives you a half-hug so as not to make breathing even harder for you.

“I think you realigned my chakra with that hug.” Wanda groans.

“Which one?” Mara asks. Wanda pauses for a moment, still panting.

“All of them?” She answers. David continues giving hugs before kissing Lena on her forehead and wrapping an arm around her waist. 

“I think that might just be your spine shifting back into place.” Shawn points.

“So, how was the flight over here? Nothing too bad, I hope.” David asks. You talk with them as you bring your luggage inside the hotel. All of you had a relatively quick and painless flight, ignoring your bag almost breaking open twice and Wanda needing to replace hers in the airport when it broke after the first layover. Mara and Shawn were all set and helped her pick out better suitcases. At one point, Mara offered to hold some of your things in her bag. It’s not that either of them traveled light, Shawn noted, they just packed more efficiently than you. You stuck your tongue out at her for that.

As you each receive your room keys, you hear the revolving door swirl. David looks over and waves to a small group of men, all dressed in mostly dark clothes despite the summer heat. One of them is absolutely huge with a beard, the next three are relatively similar in size and height, their eyes dark as they walked just a bit behind the older man. You recognize one of them but you can’t remember how. He holds your gaze until David begins introducing them.

“Ladies, I’d like you to meet my sweet old Captain.” He smiles as you all chuckle amongst yourselves. The man eyes David before shaking each of your hands.

“Call me Merrick. If you ever want to hear any stories about David, let me know. I suddenly have plenty to share.” Your group giggles as David deadpans and rolls his eyes before introducing the next man to come up.

“This is Keegan “The Smoothtalker” Russ, he and Merrick both worked with my dad a while back before the Federation. One of the most reliable men I know.” Keegan walks forward to shake your hands as well.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” his voice is even deeper than Merrick’s, “I hope I can make your night as well.” You notice he holds onto Mara’s hand a bit longer than everyone else’s, he stares directly into her eyes. Mara doesn’t shrink at all despite his intimidating aura.

“I’d like to see you try, tough guy.” She shoots back. Keegan smirks as he steps back into his original spot. Mara doesn’t usually flirt, but when she does, it’s honestly inspirational. 

David moves on to the next man, he bares some resemblance to David, actually. Wait…

“This is my brother, Logan, the first most reliable man I know.” He doesn’t say anything. Your friends offer a small wave, while you stare.

“Long time no see, Logan.” You say, smiling. He nods, smirk on his face, while David moves on. The next man is a little shorter than Keegan and Logan, but seems somewhat more approachable.

“This is Kick, the biggest nerd I know but another one of the most reliable men I know.” Kick rolls his eyes and steps forward to shake everyone’s hands.

“You may not know this but Hesh- er- David,” He corrects, “is unintentionally the funniest man I know.”

“Thanks, Kick–”

“I mean you should see him whenever he faceplants on the field after slipping, it’s like a cartoon. He gets up and it’s like he got a mud mask.” You all giggle as Kick walks back with his head high and David bites his lip as his ears turn pink.

“Don’t suppose you have pictures?” Shawn asks, Kick shakes his head but smiles.

“If I get any, I’ll send them to you right away.” David is gritting his teeth at this point.

“Okay, hun, do you wanna introduce your friends?” Lena brings her hands together, excited.

“Oh yeah! David and Logan already know her but,” She introduces you first. “She’s my best friend since high school! And this is Mara “The Baddie” Williams, and Wanda “The Mind Reader” Stevens and Shawn, who’s a nerd too! But it’s cool when she does it.”

“Interesting names. So, what qualifies you as a nerd?” Kick asks, amused.

“I did computer science and engineering in my first four years of college, then went back for my masters in computer science and I’m working on my doctoral, at the moment. I think she just calls me a nerd because I’m doing an ‘unnecessary amount of school’.” Shawn explains. Kick nods, appreciatively.

“What do you- you guys do?” Shawn seems nervous suddenly.

“I’m an IT specialist, so I also work with computers a lot.” Kick answers immediately. Shawn nods, smiling an awful lot more than usual.

“Cool, cool… and, uh, you guys?” 

“As Hesh pointed out, I am apparently a ‘sweet’ and ‘old’ Captain. My job is working with these assholes and others like them.”

“Jury’s still out on the ‘sweet’ part, but everything else, yeah. I’m one of the assholes he works with, sadly.” Keegan says with a straight face.

“Same thing for Logan and I, just a couple assholes trying to make the world a better place.”

“I knew it, I’m surrounded by assholes.” Shawna jokes. Wanda turns to her.

“Did you actually just make a Spaceballs reference? Right now?”

“It is a good movie.” Kick admits.

“See, he agrees with me so it must be correct.” Shawna and Wanda bicker about the film. Lena claps her hands to get everyone's attention.

“Okay, why don’t we get our keys and head to our rooms before dinner and we can relax a bit and explore the hotel.” She suggests. As she finishes, the rotating door slides as more soldiers enter and fill up the lobby, some passing by David and clapping him on the back.

“I gotta stay here to help everyone else get comfortable, but you guys go on ahead.” David and Lena share a quick kiss before she turns. She pulls out her key card and excitedly ran off and then ran back to grab her luggage and waved goodbye.

“It was nice to meet you all! See you at dinner!” With the weight of her luggage, it was more of a speed walk. You and the girls wave goodbye and follow her to the big elevator centered in the lobby. As you walk, you feel eyes on you. Once you get to the elevator and wait, you look around. It doesn’t take much to find out what’s wrong. You look back over towards David and see Logan staring in your direction. You hold his gaze for a moment and force yourself to wave at him. He just looks away, focusing on whatever David is talking about with his group.

You ignore the interaction (if you can even call it that) and join into the conversation your friends are having. Lena is explaining the schedule while Shawna corrects her.

“Okay, so! We have dinner at 6:30! It’s like noon right now-”

“It’s 1:30.”

“Same thing! So, I got a room for all of us to share so we can be roommates!”

“Like it’s college again!” Wanda interjects.

All of you file into the elevator and go to your shared room. There’s five beds spread out amongst the room. The bathroom includes a separate bath and shower with multiple baskets of travel size toiletries lined along the side of the bathtub. You all set down your luggage beside one of the beds and sit down on the soft mattress and plush covers, talking amongst yourselves while you clean up for dinner.

After a few hours, you head down to the hotel restaurant. There were many tables filled already by David’s military friends. Him, Logan and his friends you met earlier sit at one table amongst their peers while Lena leads you to a different table that’s within their view. Logan can easily just stare directly at you from his spot which is exactly what he’s doing. When you look at him, you see the smile on his face. You almost immediately feel the weight of possible insults he could throw at you. 

When you were younger, you knew the Walker boys when they attended the same middle school as you on the east coast since their family was moving around a lot at the time before going back to San Diego. While Logan was quiet then, he still managed to make silent jokes at your expense. He’d rest his elbow on your head or bend his knees or hunch over dramatically to highlight the height difference between you two at the time. One time, he saw a chihuahua being walked by its owner and pointed at it then pointed at you before patting your head and continuing to walk beside David, their longer strides made it hard for you to catch up.

None of those jokes seem to come from him now but it left an imprint at the time that was apparently enough to make you self-conscious in front of him these days. 

Maybe I should’ve worn heels, you thought. 

Whatever, it's too late now. Lena put her purse down in her chair.

“I’ll be right back!” and she scurried off to see David. Their happiness is worth it. You can get through the dinner. You and your friends take a look at the menu. Before long, everyone’s ordering and drinking together. Lena’s since returned from the other table and excitedly talks about the hotel. “It’s so nice, I can’t wait to explore it with all of you. I think I heard they have an arcade room somewhere.” As everyone talks, your phone buzzes.

Unknown Number: Can you tell Lena I said thank you for giving me your number?

Who the fu-

You look up at Logan again. That same damn smile on his face, phone in hand. His smile looks so damn genuine but you can’t help but feel like it’s fake. You look at Lena.

“You gave him my number?!” You whisper yell.

“Oh yeah! He asked me for it and I thought ‘Why not’, so now you guys can catch up a bit while everything’s going on.”

As much as you want to grab her by the shoulders and shake her silly, you can’t. She was trying to be nice and this was something for you to take up with him yourself, like an adult. You exhale through your nose and show her the text.

“He wanted me to say thanks.” You chuckle. You refuse to ruin her mood in any way on the week of her wedding, especially if she’s done nothing wrong. She smiles and turns to look at Logan, bringing two thumbs up which he returns. You bite your tongue and type in his name for the contact before typing more.

You: It’s rude to text during dinner

Logan Walker: Tell that to Kick and your friend.

With wrinkled brows, you look up at your table and see Shawn typing which is strange because Shawn’s the one who reminds everyone of table etiquette. You look between Kick and Shawn, remembering their interaction earlier. Oh?

“Shawn, what happened to your table manners?” You ask, trying not to smile. She looks up with wide eyes, suddenly shy again.

“Oh! Sorry, I, um…” Her phone buzzes. Lena finished sipping her wine.

“Guilty, I may or may not have given Kick her number too!” Lena chimes in.

“It’s been like 5 minutes and you’re already forgetting table manners? Okay, Shawn, I see you.” Shawn flushes at your comment and finishes a quick text before putting her phone away, smiling at Kick who sees her and smiles back.

“Done now! So, what were we talking about?” Shawn’s face is still red as she attempts to shift the conversation. As Mara and Wanda poke and prod, your phone vibrates.

Logan Walker: Since it’s so rude, I’ll text you after dinner.

You: Much appreciated

Logan Walker: But before I do, I just wanted to say you look nice tonight.

You: I feel a joke coming on

Logan Walker: A joke?

You: Nevermind

You shove your phone in your bag and get back to the conversation at hand. Not too long after, dinner is served. You share laughs and drinks, as well as small bites of your gourmet meals. Afterwards, dessert is served. You can’t tell which course you enjoyed more but both taste like heaven.

When the night is over, everyone heads back to their rooms, aside from Lena and David who spend some time together away from their “roommates”. You sit in bed, showered and ready to sleep when you remember the texts. You pick up your phone and read.

Logan Walker: So what did you mean by joke?

You: You remember in middle school when you’d always make fun of my height

Logan Walker: Oh.

The hell does “Oh.” mean?

Logan Walker: And you thought I was gonna make fun of you tonight?

You: I was expecting it yeah

Logan Walker: I meant what I said earlier.

Logan Walker: I didn’t realize I bothered you so much back then.

You wait a few seconds, seeing three dots appear and disappear a couple times.

Logan Walker: I’m sorry.

He’s apologizing? You debate your response in your head.

You: Thanks

Logan Walker: I’ll let you be, it’s late. I’ll see you at brunch tomorrow.

Logan Walker: Don’t be late.

You: I am never late

Logan Walker: You were late to dinner.

You: I was right on time!

Logan Walker: In the military, if you aren’t early, you’re late.

You: The bride decides the time of arrival

Logan Walker: You made that up.

You: You’re applying a military “rule” to civilians

Logan doesn’t respond for a few seconds. You don’t see any dots.

You: I got you there

You: Goodnight mr sergeant walker sir

You immediately put down your phone smiling to yourself as though you just broke a rule in an elementary school class on purpose and feel that little rush of doing something “bad”. If your friends weren’t sleeping, you’d probably be giggling or some shit like a damn schoolgirl. As you roll over on your side, ready to sleep, you realize something. Logan Walker made you smile. You go to bed feeling warm and fuzzy.

You wake up the next morning to Lena shaking you awake before she moves on to the others. You collectively get ready and head out by 10:30 for brunch. Before the doors open, you swear you can already smell the food. You eat in the same restaurant area of the hotel as you did last night. While the tables remain in the same spots, the room has brought in more tables, all divided into sections where chefs make and serve food. You can even see the spice racks hanging on the walls that must’ve been moved in here. As everyone moves throughout the room, you sit down with Mara and Wanda. Lena joins not too long after.

“Where’s Shawn?” She asks. Mara looks around and points, smiling. Shawn is walking around beside Kick as they talk, almost looking excited. Kick intently listens and you notice whenever he finishes talking, Shawn’s smile gets a little wider. Wanda pulls out her phone and sends a quick text before eying Shawn carefully. Shawn pulls her phone out, Kick waiting patiently. Suddenly, she looks up at your table of smirks and turns back to Kick giggling, her face already red. After a minute more of talking, they go their separate ways. You see Kick sit beside Logan and he makes a comment that has Kick rolling his eyes. Logan’s eyes turn to you and he smiles. This time you smile back at him and get to eating.

The next couple days are a blur. You and your friends explore inside and outside the hotel, hanging out in mud baths at the spa with some other ladies, and you think you see a couple men too, from the military getting massages. As much as you want one as well, they probably need it more if the content groaning you hear says anything. You’re all sure to say thank you before heading out for shopping. You already brought your bridesmaid dress, but you see a pale blue dress with flowy sleeves that you must have. You notice Mara, Shawn and Wanda have matching dresses tailored to their style and body, their dresses are nearly at the floor and the sleeves go to their wrists whereas yours stops before your elbows and the hem is a little above your ankles. They all wear a variety of darker shades of blue while yours is noticeably more pastel than theirs.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you already picked out dresses! Do they have more of those?” Lena grabs you by the shoulders, a firm grip.

“You won’t be needing to match them! In fact, it’s good you won’t.” She has another excited look on her face. Before you can ask her what wicked thing she has planned, she spreads her arms out in front of you.

“You’re my maid of honor!” Your mouth drops open. You look at the others who are all smiling almost as wide as her.

“You little shits, did you plan this?!” You know the answer and they all confirm with a nod and you squeal, giving Lena a bear hug. Both of you practically fighting to crush the other in your arms, but lovingly so. Eventually, everyone joins in.

After more shopping and spending time with your girls, you text Logan to let him know you were all heading back. The wedding was tomorrow and your favorite love birds, David and Lena, already had arrangements to make sure they didn’t see each other at least 24 hours before the wedding.

Logan Walker: Don’t worry, we have him locked in the bathroom.

You: Will that hold him?

Logan Walker: No, but this is what we’re trained for.

You: You’re trained to hold your brother in a bathroom?

Logan Walker: The army prepares us for everything.

You felt bold tonight.

You: What else are you prepared for?

Logan Walker: Can’t say, surprise attacks only work when no one expects them.

You: Are you gonna attack me?

Logan Walker: Maybe. Probably.

Logan Walker: Only if you give me a reason to.

You: Yeah ok soldier boy

You suddenly feel like you’re in trouble.

You: I’m sorry

Logan Walker: You’re in room 345, right?

You: …no

Logan Walker: You have 5 seconds to tell me the truth.

You: IM SORRY

Logan Walker: 4

You: IM INNOCENT

Logan Walker: 3

You: LOGAN NO

Logan Walker: 2

You: OKAY FINE

You: YES

You: SHIT

You: Fuckin interrogating me

Logan Walker: It’s my job.

You: Is it tho?

Logan Walker: When necessary.

You: Yeah that’s not ominous at all

You: Wedding’s tomorrow

Logan Walker: Oh, is it? I didn’t know that.

You: Yeah okay stupid comment

Logan Walker: Happens to the best of us.

You: So you admit I’m the best?

There’s a pause.

Logan Walker: Goodnight.

You: Thats a yes!

You: Im calling it a yes!

You: Im the best!

You see he’s reading your texts but not answering and decide to stop.

You: Goodnight

Before you can put your phone down, it vibrates.

Logan Walker: I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well.

And the conversation ends there.

Finally, the morning comes and Lena can’t sit still. After having to text back and forth with Logan about moving through the hotel so the couple doesn’t see one another, everyone heads out. You make it safely to the bride’s dressing room with everything you need. The hair stylist and makeup artist are already there and greet you inside. Lena’s mom has also joined to help her with the dress. Before you and the bridesmaids start getting ready, you take turns going out in casual clothes to get small snacks and water for everyone. You talk about the schedule of the day and occasionally past weddings you’ve attended.

Sometimes, Lena’s mom chimes in about her wedding, and the disaster it almost became multiple times the day of. From the makeup artist getting food poisoning when only half her face was done, the marriage officiant came in with crutches and a limp, the cake was almost destroyed when it was left somewhere in the hotel and no one knew where (keeping in mind the hotel you’re in is smaller than the even fancier hotel her mom was married in.). 

As time continued going on and you all got yourselves together, it was time. Lena’s beautiful in her long white dress and veil that framed her face. Mara, Shawn and Wanda look amazing in their darker hues. Lena’s mom’s trying not to cry. And you felt pretty. Not even pretty, shit, you felt gorgeous. After thanking the makeup artist and hair stylist, you head out.

Lena and her mom walk arm in arm, David is biting his lip as he fails to contain a wide smile. You’re sure you can see tears in his eyes. You and Shawn and Mara and Wanda walk in pairs behind Lena. As Lena stands across from David, you stand on the far left side of the front with Mara, Shawn and Wanda standing to your right. You look across the way at the groomsmen. At Logan. Where your dress is lighter than the bridesmaids, his suit is lighter than his fellow groomsmen. The groomsmens suits are dull in comparison to the bridesmaids. Everyone still looks great and matches wonderfully. Logan looks so handsome. The entire time, you guys eye each other when the other looks away. Lena is crying and David is trying to hold back his tears, both still smiling at one another.

The vows and kiss are what break David, even with tears he continues smiling at his bride while everyone claps. Logan’s smiles and all of the groomsmen crowd around him as the photographer stands in the middle of the aisle. Then you, the bridesmaids and Lena take a photo as well. You spend almost another hour taking photos of everyone together in the venue before the afterparty ceremony begins. The toast and dinner seems to bring everyone even closer, you find yourself talking with a few other soldiers. Afterwards, at the cake cutting, Lena and David hold the knife together and pick out a slice. Lena swipes her finger against the knife, picking up the leftover frosting, before lightly pressing her finger onto the tip of David’s nose. He stares at her for a second before squishing his nose onto her cheek, returning the frosting.  The interaction is held onto by the photographer taking pictures of the moment.

A few minutes later, David and Lena come up to you.

“So, how do you like dancing?” She asks.

“... You’re planning something again, aren’t you?” You respond, all too aware of her tendencies.

“Oh, no.”

“You’re not?”

“No. It was already planned.”

“What was planned?”

“So, the best man and maid of honor are expected to be paired for the dancing.” She’s smiling as though something mischievous has happened.

“So…” Logan appears before you can ask anything. 

“Logan’s my best man. Lena was telling me about her plans for the bridesmaids dresses, so I did the same for the groomsmens suits.” David explains. Your face feels warm.

“W-Well, I’m ready when you guys are. Just, uh, say the word.”

“The word is now!” The music immediately changes to something soft and sweet. David and Lena move to the middle of the room. You and Logan stand on the opposite side of the floor to the tables. You back at Logan and do a double take when you see Kick and Shawn on the other side of Lena and David. You smile at her, her face is more red than ever. You think you see the redness goes all the way to her hands, of which Kick holds tenderly. Kick looks over and smiles at the both of you. You look back to Logan and think about the whole situation. Your best friend is getting married, your other friend apparently has a love interest, and you have some kind of maybe love interest person, kind of, possibly (good lord, even your thoughts are flustered). You see Shawn pointing towards the tables and Kick chuckles. You look over and your jaw drops.

Just off to the side of the tables, away from the dance floor, Mara leans against Keegan while he has his hands around her waist. He rests his chin on her head while she covers her face in her hands, giggling. Were all of you reduced to fits of giggles because of military men? Apparently so. As all of you chuckle to yourselves, you look at Logan. He’s smirking at you, his cheeks are a little pink.

“Hi…” You whisper, staring into his eyes.

“Hi.” He whispers back, staring back at you. 

“I’m glad I saw you again, Logan.”

“Me too.” He pauses for a moment. “You still on the east coast?”

“Yeah, yeah. Never really left. It’s just my place, I guess.”

“Everyone has their place in the world.”

“I guess they do, yeah.”

“Would you mind if, after all of this, I visited?” You blink, a smile slowly creeps onto your face.

“I’d like it if you did.” Logan smiles wide and attempts to keep his cool. The flow of the conversation is interrupted by Wanda sauntering over.

“Hehe, hi guys.” Her words are almost slurred.

“Wanda, how much have you had tonight?” She pauses a moment, thinking.

“Um, I think, like, maybe a couple?”

“A couple?” You and Logan have stopped moving at this point, but your hand is still in his and his other hand remains on your hip. You’re both smiling to yourselves.

“Yeah, hehe.” Merrick walks up behind her. “Oh, hi, Captain sir!” He silently brings his arms around her stomach and lifts her just enough to get her feet off the floor, allowing him to walk away while Wanda continues her drunken giggling. You watch as he sets her down and instructs her to sit in a chair, before moving all alcoholic drinks away. She pouts looking at the cup of water that just so happens to be in front of her. You start laughing, trying to be silent so as to not draw attention away from Lena, but your fit has you putting your forehead on Logan’s chest. You feel him rumbling from his chuckles. You look back up and catch Lena laughing and directing Logan to a Merrick, who’s smirking down at the still pouting Wanda. Everyone’s happy tonight it seems. Even as the party dies down, it stays that way. Full of happiness.

~A couple months later~

You walk to your front door after hearing a firm couple of knocks. You look through the peephole and smile to yourself, heart pulsing. Opening the door, you see the man you’ve been waiting for. Logan grins, moving forward to pull you into a tight hug. His arms are always so warm, you’ve noticed.

“I missed you so much, what took so long?” You ask.

“A nearly canceled flight, traffic, there’s more if you wanna hear about it.” He answers, grabbing his luggage and bringing it in. 

“Tell me everything! I’m still making dinner.” You spend the next thirty or so minutes cooking and talking, Logan talks and tastes the food intermittently. His vacation consists of exploring your town and attending special events throughout his time here. You catch up on your lives, or as much as he can tell you about. Originally, it was supposed to be two weeks of staying at your home. This changed to three, then four, and so on until Logan ended up changing his address  and bringing in boxes. While he still has to leave for months at a time every once in a while, it makes seeing him worth it.

Then the day comes when he’s home for good. He stays in the state with a new job. You learn to lose the fear of losing him with every night you spend in one another's arms. Years later, you’re having your own wedding with him. Your friends wear similar bridesmaids dresses and groomsmen suits to remind yourselves of the event that led to this… the happiest moment of your life.

I hope you enjoyed this. Thank you for your request. I will add this to my CoD Stories series on Ao3 @ RiversSong82

[tryslora]

Hi

Do you have any advice on dialogue and how to make it flow?

I'm constantly stuck with "he said as he looked away"

"He smirked and replied"

It never feels flowy

I don't write fics I mostly write OC stuff so I have to build around my characters to really put them together.

It's just having my quiet and stoic character respond to the hyperactive pyromaniac is hard because one doesn't speak much and the other speaks too much.

Or when my other two characters are in the conversation it gets all messy and hard to keep up with who is talking and what they're doing.

Maybe I'm just blind to my own writing and don't see everything I want to see, yknow?

Hullo, Nonnie.

I’m so sorry for taking so long to reply to this question! Life has been… a particular form of chaos for the last couple of months, and I’m trying to wrangle all my tasks under control now. Which includes keeping up with responses and blogging!

ANYWAY. You’ve asked a really great question, and I’ll admit, I might struggle to answer it.

I’m one of those folks for whom the personalities come first—complete with dialogue patterns and habits—before I get descriptions, setting, plot, or oh… anything else… so breaking down how to best make your dialogue snappy and flow means taking a step back from what I do and looking at how I do it.

This is going to be a mix of advice from how I do things, and advice I’ve adopted and found useful from other writers.

First and foremost: there are two parts to creating natural, flowing dialogue. One is the dialogue itself—the words the characters choose, and how they come out—and the other is the description around it (such as the dialogue tags you reference in your examples). They have different focuses, but both are important to how the text flows.

I’m going to drop a caveat here first, because it’s my downfall: we, as humans (and uh, especially those of us with ADHD, *cough cough me*), have a tendency to repeat ourselves. We also um, ah, like, y’know, a lot. Some of this is fantastic in dialogue. Too much can change flow into drag. So. With everything else I say, please take that into account as well. When I’m editing, I have been learning to trim out the spaces where I am saying or doing the same thing multiple times in a few paragraphs. BUT. That’s the important part—it can ALL be fixed in edits!

Let’s talk words first. You say you have quiet and stoic character matched up with a hyperactive chatterbox (a dynamic I enjoy). And you’re right, this can be tough when the stoic character is like “grunt” or “mm” or “yeah” and there’s nothing else coming out. BUT. This is true to the character and gives great insight—in this case, the character’s actual dialogue is going to come from their actions. So, we’ll get to that.

The thing with the stoic character is that every word needs to mean something. Every word they say is going to be solid and important because they say so little. It might even be overloaded. I’ll admit, with this kind of character, I love writing from their POV because I can put the few words out into the open, but let them ramble inside their own head (which yes, can sometimes be like pulling teeth). I get that flow out of their thoughts more than what they say. The freebie story I drafted for my newsletter subscribers is an outtake missing scene from my next book written from the point of view of my (more) stoic character in the book, because I wanted to play with that myself.

For the chatterbox, I’m curious—do they talk so much in order to hide what they’re really feeling? I know most of my talkative characters are spilling everything in order to hide in plain sight. After all, if you’ve left every card on the table, no one can claim you’re hiding something. Even if you are leaving that one important thing out (keeping a last ace up your sleeve), no one will notice in the glut of other information.

One way to handle this is to have the stoic character really listen and pay attention to what’s underneath all the chatter. Let them respond to the one thing that really means something in the flow of words, which might stop your chatterbox in their tracks. Being seen/heard can be a shock for the kind of character who lets it all hang out.

Let’s get back to those dialogue tags and talk about actions. Every character (every person!) has body language that does a lot of the talking for them. If someone’s arms are crossed, they might be resistant to and idea, or they might be cold, or they might be trying to hold themself still. One of the things I’ve done is to roleplay my character through a scene—move like they move, fall into why they say what they say, and what they do when they are not saying something to hold back. What actions do they take, and how can I put that on the page? Not just movement, but also what do they smell/see, what’s going on inside their head, and all the why involved.

And here’s the thing: sometimes “He says” is a valid way to do it. It’s okay. Let the dialogue do its thing and don’t worry. Remember, you can add blocking later, if you need it. 

Here, quick example from one of my serialized pieces:

“I don’t feel like I can talk to Hannah.” Nevaeh scrunches up her nose. “God, no, I don’t mean that I want to be involved with her. Just. She was so weird about Stevie, and I think she might get even weirder if I asked Liz out. And I don’t know if Liz is even ready to do dating things. Or if she’s into girls! We’ve never talked about it. Why is it all so weird and complicated?” That’s one thing Pawel can answer. “Because humans are gloriously complicated beings, and we have a tendency to take even things that could be simple and overcomplicate them by worrying at them. Anxiety, intelligence, fear… they all make things feel big. And these questions are both very big and very small all at once.” “Because labels are helpful, but not necessary,” Nevaeh says. “Because they make it easier and harder all at once.” “Yes.” He’s not sure if she really gets it, so he adds, “Follow your heart.” “Is that what you do?” No, it’s not. Pawel has too many things to weigh before he can make any decisions. His career. The kids in his care. His own son. There are so many variables in his life, and he hasn’t had any chance to just leap after emotional responses. Not since Conor was conceived. Not since Chelsea first disappeared. “When I can.” He glances sideways at her, away from where Alanna and Jennie have finally stopped their game and are on the swings. “I’m glad you feel comfortable talking to me.”

This is a chatterbox teen talking to the guy her two dads are trying to bring into their relationship. And Pawel is a chatterbox as well, but he’s definitely the kind who will talk constantly in order to not say a lot of things, which is illustrated by letting him ramble internally in the final paragraph of the example.

Also, they’ve been given a setting where they are both somewhat distracted by two of Neveah’s siblings playing at the park, so they have something to do. If I were better, I’d have included things about summer scents, the sky, etc. etc. in the descriptions (they are my downfall).

If you look at the dialogue, you’ll see that the sentences are all over the place in length. Long ones, short ones, and ones that aren’t much more than fragments. I try to echo how people really talk, but avoid the pitfalls of things getting circular or buried in extra words (except Neveah says “like” a lot and it is absolutely on purpose).

One of the biggest things for me is being inside the head of the point of view character. Being able to hear the things they don’t say can really help when it feels like they aren’t saying anything, and you a build a whole story in those subtleties. Kind of like having subtitles that interpret what’s happening rather than what’s said.

If you have a lot of characters, it’s going to get confusing—90% of the book I excerpted above included multiple adults on screen and 7 or 8 kids. It was chaos. People talk over each other. In those cases a simple “Neveah says” is the easiest tag. Let them talk, and let the dialogue shine. And if characters have quirks, let those shine, too. If someone’s screaming about sugary desserts in that book, it’s probably Jennie—no need for an attribution. Growling is Leo. Finishing each others’ sentences are Emma and Conor. Spattered with “like” is Neveah. Little quirks and details are things you can hang a lot on.

And just to say… yeah, we’re all blind to our own writing. It happens. We are so close to our own words that it’s hard to see them as words anymore. I usually have to set something aside for months if I want to do a truly deep edit on it, because I need to see it as Not Mine first. Then I can be objective. Do you have a reader? Either an alpha cheerleader, or a beta you trust? That’s the best. They can tell you if they trip over something, or if something feels stilted. Or if you’ve had someone shrug six times on one page (I certainly do that, like, all the freakin’  TIME).

And in the end, less is more. It’s okay to strip things back and focus more on sentence length and how words taste in your mouth if you read them aloud. It’s okay to write just the conversation first, then figure out how they move around each other while talking. It’s okay to write the blocking first, then fit the dialogue around that. Sometimes stepping back to one piece of the puzzle helps the other one shine in your mind’s eye.

I’ve rambled a lot, and I’m not sure if this is what you were looking for. And uh, again, I’m sorry how late this response it. I really hope you are still here and see this!!

Best of luck with your words, Nonnie. And remember: whatever you write today, that’s another step on your writing journey. It’s okay to delete them, edit them, love them, put them in a box for later… whatever you want to do. Just write them, and tomorrow write a little more. Even if this isn’t your final book, pieces of it will come back in another way later. I’m currently writing “fic” of people I’ve been building over the last uhhh thirty or so years. 

Enjoy your characters and your stories. And remember, everything comes with time. Keep writing, and keep learning. You’ve got this!

[deepperplexity]

Prompt 21: Star Of Wishes [B8]

Pairing: Snape x Fem!OC

POV: First, OC

Setting: OC’s home -> Severus’s hidden place

Continuation of: Prompt 2. Restless Waiting, 3. Snowballing, 7. Stormy Reunion,  8. Rosemary For Holly, 16. Keep Warm, 19. Hope & 20. Returning Home

A/N: TODAY WE WRAP UP SEVERUS’ STORY! I’m super drained, tbh, but I so loved writing this part and giving everyone that HEA even if it doesn’t happen until the very end so to say 😂🙈 We do get some lovely smut though, hope you'll enjoy the emotional ride of the intimacy too 🤭 This might be the last long fic for the year. I have 0 time, I have no idea how I’m gonna be able to write the next 3 fics and get them up but I’ll manage somehow 😂 I still don’t know what prompt 23 and 24 will be this year, I do know that tomorrows prompt will be the one I use to wrap up Turpin’s story — how, I have no idea yet. We’ll see 😂👍

+A/N: This part of the serial contains a relationship dynamic in the beginning that can be extremely toxic and dangerous when real, but this is FICTION, and as the author I have created this relationship with the intention of it being trauma-healing, safe, loving, and no harm have or will come to any of the characters due to the relationship or any acts of either of the characters. If you feel this relationship matches yours, PLEASE take a step back and really evaluate if you are in a dangerous relationship - if your partner is treating you in a manner that isn’t loving or safe.

Tags/TW’s: Kisses, embracing, Harsh and Soft Touching, Apologising For Ones Behaviour, Slight Snark, Trying Ones Best, Stunted Emotional Development, Confessions of Regret/Hurt/Anger/Fear/Pain/Lacking Knowledge/Love/Affection/Trust, Explicit Description, Dark Sexual Past, Gentle and Caring Touches, Hints At Past Sexual Abuse/Coercion/Rape (not graphic or described),

Word Count: 4.7k

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

It had been over seven months since the day I thought my heart would stop. The day I found him more dead than alive in the Shrieking Shack. The day a strange little elf was sent to me with a message from someone a mere boy, which led me to find the man I loved so broken — poisoned, snake venom slithering through his veins no magic could have stopped. But my mom, she stopped it. My mom, a muggle who the Dark Lord so much detested, had won over his own snake.

The year had passed in a blurry ordeal of pain, love, recovery, and healing. But still, there was so much healing needed I could barely wrap my head around it. Christmas was upon us, and I hadn’t the heart to decorate our home. The home we ended up sharing, just me and Severus. At first, it was to get away from everyone and give him a chance to heal, but it changed about a month ago. A month ago, it became something different, an emotional journey for the two of us one could say. Spewed words of hatred, panic attacks through dark nights, long stretches of time without a word spoken from him, my dear broken man.

I didn’t give up, yet yesterday, when he’d so viciously barked at me about the time I’d decorated his office and how stupid I’d been to do such a thing — well, something broke in me. I hadn’t decorated our home, I hadn’t put up anything related to Christmas despite it being the 21st of December now and my most loved holiday. I’d simply allowed our home to remain barren, for his sake, as he seemed to hate the holiday with a vengeance unlike any I’d ever seen.

“I’ll take a walk,” I called through the little house, not expecting any response. The cold winter air greeted me but there was no wind, not a sound from beyond the bubble the little house sat in at the very end of a clearing in some ancient forest I still had no idea of the location of. I could only apparate there since I knew what it looked like.

My heart ached for the man left behind in the house while stepping into the night. No matter what, I wouldn’t give up on him. He had every right to be broken, hurt, lost — but sometimes I had to take some time for myself to find the strength and courage I needed to go on when his hatred and pain shined too brightly. Sometimes, I was the only one around he could lash out against and even if it hurt beyond anything else to hear such foul words in his voice directed at me, I still loved him more than anything and the nights when I held him tight I just knew it would pass. Eventually, time would heal his wounds and I’d still be there. I would never abandon him, something I knew he feared above all else yet he always showed I was free to come and go as I pleased. He knew what it was to be trapped, he didn't wish that for me in any sense of the word.

The snow crunched beneath my shoes, I slipped on my mittens and shoved my hands into my coat’s pockets while walking ahead. Above me, just before I left the clearing and the trees would obscure the sky, I saw the little stars speckling the darkness. I paused for a second to just look at the enormity of the universe, to get perspective perhaps, or simply allow myself to think of how small things can mean so much in the enormity of it all. A falling star streaked by, and I couldn’t help but close my eyes and send a wish to it. It was a childish thing to do perhaps, but I wished for Severus to allow me to help him and be close with him. Some day it might come true, he’s trying already…

I walked around for nearly two hours, until my toes were numb and my cheeks beyond chilly. Just breathing, imagining a happy Christmas with him. “In the future, when he’s healed… Maybe then…” I murmured to myself as I stomped off my boots and stepped back into our little home.

I lost my breath.

When I left, the house had been dark, dreary, void of all things Christmas but now… Now there were decorations everywhere. Eternally burning candles, perfectly green garlands, golden ornaments, and red bows littered every surface, door frame, and window. The house had turned into a Christmas-littered haven perfectly decorated to my own taste, almost as I had decorated Severus’s office a year ago — just slightly different colours.

“What in the world,” I whispered as I dragged off my fluffy mittens and shrugged out of my coat. “S-Severus! I don’t mean to alarm you but I think Santa broke in!” I called, my brain not able to think of another reason why our house looked like Christmas heaven. “No, love,” he murmured as he appeared in the doorway to the living room beyond the hallway I was moving through. “I am apologizing,” he continued and the sweet look of guilt and hope covering his features made my heart ache.

“Severus, what-, why?” I asked as he straightened and reached for my hand to tug me into his arms. I followed without any resistance. I always wanted to be in his arms, one of the many things I always wished for while I nursed him back to health physically after my mom had saved his life. “I said dreadful things.” “You’re trying, Sev.” “No, you are trying, Linna—” he exhaled the words into my hair “—and I’m constantly making it harder for you.” “Healing takes time, Sev. It takes time.” “It gives me no right to take it out on you, you have done nothing but stand by me.” “I always will, I won’t abandon you.” “I almost wish you would, it would be easier to be in misery than… deal with it all.” “Oh, stop, you’re a strong man, you can deal with it.” “Love, you overestimate my abilities, and underestimate your importance…”

For a long moment, I said nothing, just thought about his words — the sweet ones he now spoke and the hurtful ones that came out when we tried to process his trauma. It wasn’t easy to stay, wasn’t easy to take it and not retort or yell or scream or cry. But the hardest thing I had ever done was stay away from him, nothing else came close to it.

“Will you forgive me?” he asked, his voice low and nearly that of someone frightened. “I-, Severus… you don’t need my—” “Your forgiveness is the only one I need.” “I won’t forgive you then,” I said softly. “I won’t forgive you until you fight harder.” “Love, I—” “No, you’re the strongest man I’ve ever met. I’m nothing compared to you and I have nothing to equal your pain and hurt, your strength, or your bravery, so if I only have this one thing to hold over your head I bloody well will, Sev.” “Feisty today, are we?”

His voice was teasing, yet the hurt and fear still lingered behind it all and I couldn’t help but feel even more love for the man who dealt so poorly with his own emotions — he’d never been allowed any, so how would he ever know how to deal with them properly? I did the only thing I could think of, I hugged him with all my strength until his arms wrapped around me and I felt some of the tension leave his body. “Silly man,” I whispered. “You really need to learn how to deal with your emotions.” “I’m… I am trying,” he confessed and I knew he spoke true. He was trying with everything he had and I’d be with him every step of the way.

We stood there, for the longest moment, until I felt the urge to explore all the Christmas decorations he’d filled the house with. “I thought you hated Christmas with a passion as strong as amortentia’s power to make people go insane with obsession.” “I do.” “Then, why?” “You are the obsessed in this case,” he chuckled. “So, for me, then?” He merely nodded but I smiled warmly at him. It was a giant act of care and love on his part, it only made me love the holiday even more.

We walked through the little house, I looked at everything he’d done in a sort of stunned silence until we got to the bedroom. “Really?” I asked and arched a brow at him, he shrugged while raising his own brows in a sort of “what?” kind of expression. “Rosemary?” “Well…” he murmured as his cheeks took on the tiniest hint of pink, barely there but significant enough for me to notice after having gotten to know him so well the past few months. “I love it,” I said and kissed his cheek gently. “It’s perfect,” I continued while allowing my eyes to rest another moment on the rosemary twigs replacing the holly — just like it had done a year ago.

“Love, I truly am sorry… I shouldn’t have said the things I did, or done it in the manner I did.” “I know, and you know, and it’s in the past.” “It is not in the past,” he said and sighed. “I fear I’ll never be able to… To…” “Sev, schh, it’s okay. You’re learning. Have you ever had a right to express yourself? Or even have feelings at all?” “No.” “So you’re a baby.” He sneered at that, almost recoiling. “If you think about it logically, you’re as able as a child to deal with your emotions and when children feel truly safe with someone they’ll act up, they’ll cry and scream and get pissed because they feel it’s safe to show their emotions and, eventually, with the help of safe adults they learn to communicate and deal with their emotions in a healthy and proper manner. Yes, you’re a grown man, but you’ve never had the chance to learn or become comfortable with your emotions.” “I’m comfortable with you.” “And I am with you, we can both show our emotions, and right now your emotions aren’t under control but that’s not your fault. You’ll learn, grow, and become able to handle it eventually.”

Severus simply stared at me. It felt like an eternity passed while his eyes seemed to dig themselves into mine. Eventually, he drew a long breath. “You are far too good.” “I’ll be anything you need me to be.” “I merely need you, just as you are. If you… if you are willing to be patient, with… me…” It sounded as if he had to push with all his might to say the word in a calm and collected manner, as if he felt a need to either spit them out or say nothing at all. It warmed my heart and I nodded gently, smiling up at him as I took his hands gently in my own. “I’ll always be patient with you,” I said and leaned up to kiss him. His thin lips pushed harshly against mine while he tugged me closer.

He backed me up, toward our bed, and gently laid me down without our lips ever leaving each other. “Severus?” I asked, my heart hammering too hard while my entire body tightened warmly under him. “If you don’t want this, say so now, love.” “I-, I do…” It feels like I’ve waited all my life for this moment. “But are you ready?” I asked in return, remembering all the times he’d recoiled at my soft touch or jolted at a sweet caress of his cheek. Loving touches, as I’d learned over the past months, wasn’t something he was used to or even knew how to deal with.

“I want to try,” he confessed after another kiss. “Okay,” I whispered and he kissed me again while his hands roughly caressed my sides. His kisses turned harsher and he bent my legs to fit himself between them. I simply moved with him, allowed him to lead the way while I avoided touching him, keeping my hands above my head even if all I wished to do was strip him and ravish him with all my love and adoration, thousands of kisses and hundreds of soft caresses — with all my warmth.

His hands travelled up my arms until one of them clamped around my wrists before the other tore open my blouse with a jerk. His breathing turned ragged, his hand clamped around my wrists harder while he undid my pants with his free hand — tugging at the buttons too harshly.

“S-Sev,” I whispered against his lips. All his motions halted. He looked down at me, his eyes darker than ever. “I won’t run away,” I whispered. “Even if you don’t hold me down, I won’t touch you unless you allow it,” I continued. “I-, I don’t know how to… How to do this…” His voice was a mere murmur, a deep droning of a confession barely audible. “I know. I understand. But I do… Let me show you?” I asked gently while holding his eyes with my own.

He hesitated, a fear of what was to come in those onyx eyes of his, while I laid utterly still despite the need to love him clawing at my skin with a burning desire. He nodded, a stiff motion, while he slowly released my hands.

I sat up and he backed off the bed, standing between my knees. I looked up at him, not making any quick moves but standing up while he took a step back and his fists clenched. “Will you let me lead?” I asked. He merely nodded. “No, Severus. I need you to say the words.” He looked bewildered for a second before his fists unclenched on a deep exhale. “You lead.” “Thank you.”

I gently reached out while he stood absolutely still. “I’m going to undress you. And then you will undress me, slowly.” He nodded at my words and I got to work with the buttons of his shirt, not letting my fingers tremble while he watched them work. I tugged the shirt off his shoulders without touching his skin, dragging the fabric down his arms while searching his eyes before it floated to the floor. I undid the belt of his pants, then the button and zipper before bending to tug them off as he wore no shoes.

He lifted each leg for me to remove the pants fully while simultaneously slipping my finger within the hem of his socks and taking them off at the same time. I heard him draw a shaky breath as I rose before him as he stood in just his boxers. He was such a beautiful sight in the candlelight and I couldn’t help but look him up and down while my cheeks heated, no matter how hard I tried to control my own emotions for his benefit.

“Now, you undress me in the same manner. But, you can touch me if you want to.” He nodded at my words and as he reached for my already open blouse I caught a glimpse of his unsteady fingers that seemed to be both stiff and trembling. But he managed to undress me in a somewhat slow fashion, even if he didn’t look at me while he did so. His eyes flickered all over the place as if he didn’t know where to look.

When he stood up we were only in our underwear. I was strangely relaxed while he seemed tense. So I stepped closer, my eyes seeking his, and allowed my hands to reach out. “I’ll touch you now,” I said and his eyes found mine. He looked terrified, but he didn’t move away as my hands reached his chest dusted with dark hair so soft to the touch I wanted to moan at just the sensation of him. “Touch me, Severus, feel my body. It belongs to you,” I said gently to encourage him to dare. “I-, I have never in-, in this manner,” he confessed. “Tell me how you’ve done it, share your experiences with me while we do this gently.” “Love… No,” he said, a darkness to his voice. “Tell me, and touch me.”

I allowed my hands to stroke down his arms, slip to his hips, and go up along his sides until I could spread my fingers over his chest — his heart pounded. Then his hands reached out for my hips. “It was rough,” he began while his uncertain fingers began exploring my body in a jaggedly jumpy fashion. “Never out of care or, want… A necessity, sometimes something done without my approval. Merely for the… mission …” “Never again, darling,” I whispered while my hands explored his back and my front went flush against his, forcing his hands to slip behind me as well.

I kissed his collarbone and allowed my lips to slant up along his throat until I met his jawline. “This will only ever happen if you want it,” I assured him and his fingers stiffened at my lower back while I felt his cock press against my pelvis. “I can’t talk about it,” he confessed. “Not like this,” he continued and I nodded before kissing his cheek. “That’s okay, Sev. Will you still allow me to lead and touch?” “Yes…” “Say stop and it all stops.”

I stepped back and took off my underwear before ridding him of his. As we stood face to face I searched his eyes, tried to read what few emotions he showed, I found none truly alarming so I continued to kiss and caress him before we ended up on the bed. He was stiff beneath me, but I kept kissing and caressing his upper body while snuggling myself between his legs.

“Love…” he murmured. “Yes, Sev?” “Are you-, do you truly wish for this?” “Yes. I want all of you, all you are willing to gift me.” “All?” “Yes, all . There is no part of you I don’t love. I want to be close to you, care for you, love you.” He seemed to soften beneath me at that. “I will try,” he said quietly while his hands finally began to caress my skin, travelling along my sides until his fingers reached my face and he pulled me closer before kissing me softly.

I moaned into his mouth and kissed him back with all I had while still keeping the pace slow and the touch gentle. His thumb caressed my cheek and the kiss ended. I began stroking his side, travelling from his ribs to his hips before lifting myself a bit to reach his cock. He exhaled deeply as my fingers wrapped around him and I began stroking him gently, each movement measured and controlled to be gentle and comforting.

“It-, it feels good,” he whispered as he laid back fully, relaxing and taking in my touch. “I’ll always make you feel good, Sev,” I said, my voice too low but I was desperate to keep my control when all I truly wished to do was ravish him and have him fill my aching cunt. But we both needed this, he needed this to be different and I wanted him to feel safe and adored with me — as he always should feel.

I worked him to the point of him moaning deeply beneath me, my hands touching and stroking, my lips slanting and kissing, my mouth whispering sweet words of adoration and care. The room turned too warm, his breaths came harder and his muscles tensed beneath me while my core turned slick and needy.

“Sev, I’m going to ride you,” I said, making sure he knew what was about to happen before I did anything, giving him the chance to stop me. But he didn’t, he merely looked at me with warm eyes of want even if a small sliver of worry still lingered within the onyx colour.

I climbed atop him, guiding his thick cock to my entrance while straddling him. He looked up at me, his hands landing on my thighs as I began to sink, allowing him to slip inside and fill me up deliciously slow. He groaned and threw his head back as I took him to the hilt. It felt too good. He felt too perfect within me.

His hands flexed, his fingers digging into my flesh, and I moaned his name while taking in the sensation of being with him. I had dreamt of that moment for so long, wondered what it would be like, what he’d feel like, how he’d react — never had I imagined I’d be the one leading. But with Severus, things were always different.

“Love,” he groaned as I began riding him slowly. “You feel so good, Sev,” I moaned as my cunt adjusted to his size. “Belinna,” he moaned. “I-, I can’t,” he continued with a strain to his dark rumble of a voice. “Want me to stop?” I asked while keeping on riding him in slow motions, steady rising and falling, using all of my power to not allow the frenzy building within me to take over. “No, no don’t stop,” he groaned as his fingers dug themselves into my flesh with a grip so tight I wondered if he’d leave marks on me from his desperate hold. “But I can’t, I can’t hold out,” he panted while I felt his entire body turn nearly solid beneath me.

I’d only barely begun, but I wouldn’t take away his pleasure or deny him a release he so obviously needed. “Then let go, darling,” I said while I upped the pace a tiny bit. “Just let go.” “ Belinna ,” he moaned in a near prayer as I splayed my hands out on his chest, leaning forward to find a new angle to take him. He jerked beneath me, his jaw clenched tightly while his hips bucked upwards, and I moaned as he came undone beneath me.

His cock jerked with me, warm waves coating my insides while I kept riding him steadily while my hands felt the hammering of his heart. “You’re so good, Sev,” I praised while he groaned deeply. “So good, darling,” I continued and he moaned a strange sound of relief and something darker. I slowed my pace until I stilled fully, not chasing my release.

I watched him, the pale skin with a slight tint to his cheeks and little beads of sweat across his forehead, and couldn’t help but be filled with a desperate need to comfort him. He looked strangely satisfied but confused, tense but relaxed at the same time.

“Sev, are you alright?” I asked while stroking away a few stray strands of his hair. He looked up at me, I was unable to understand what his eyes were filled with though. He just looked at me, his chest still rising and falling rapidly, while I felt him soften within me his hands released their grip on my flesh.

“I-, I don’t know,” he confessed. “That’s okay,” I said and leaned forward to kiss his hooked nose while he slipped out of me, a gushing of sticky cum flowing out of me. “We’re a mess, would you like to shower with me?” I asked with a smile even if my entire body was reeling with the need to come. He shook his head and I nodded before kissing his thin lips gently. “I’ll be right back, I don’t like cleaning up with magic.”

I handed him his wand after having stood and went to the bathroom on shaky legs. My insides pulsed and his cum streaked down my thighs. I locked the door and stepped into the shower, the warm water cascaded over me and I reached down to find the release I so desperately needed while his moans and groans filled my head from mere memory. His cum and my slick covered my fingers as I stroked myself into a trembling mess, taking support from the wall while biting down on my lip to not make a sound. I made quick work of it all, finding my release swiftly only to rush through cleaning myself.

I grabbed my robe from the hook on the wall and left the bathroom while cinching the sash around my waist. When I stepped into the bedroom Severus sat on the edge of the bed, dressed in a new shirt and his black silken pyjama pants. He was leaning his elbows on his knees, a hunch to his shoulders and a stiffness to his back.

I walked up, sinking down on my knees before him. “Sev? Are you alright?” I asked anew but he shook his head. “What’s wrong?” I continued while wrapping my hands around his where they were entwined before me. “Is that how it’s supposed to be?” he asked quietly. “What do you mean?” “Soft, caring… Warm …” My eyes widened as he looked up at me. “Sev… Darling… Yes, it’s supposed to be all those things. It’s supposed to feel only good.” My heart screamed at the torment and confusion in his eyes while he looked at me so intently that I felt as if he were trying to enter my soul.

“What do you need, darling?” I asked while squeezing his hands. “Need?” “Yes, what do you need from me?” “Nothing you haven’t already given too much of.” “Okay, what would make you feel safe and cared for right now?” I asked to change his view on the question I was asking. “I-, I don’t know.” “Cuddles?” I asked. “Or alone time? Food? Words of affirmation?” I kept going to try and jog his thoughts about it all. I knew what I wanted but what I needed was to comfort him in whatever manner he needed.

“I usually prefer some cuddles and snuggles after getting clean, and talking about what felt good and what didn’t,” I said to open up about my own wants to hopefully make him see it was okay to ask for something more, for what one needs. “There was nothing about that which did not feel good, love,” Severus murmured, his eyes cast down on our hands. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Would you like me to stay or give you some time?” I asked after another moment. “Don’t leave,” he whispered. “Stay. Please…” The confusion and worry in his voice was heartbreaking but that he asked me to stay warmed me. “I’ll stay, for as long as you wish.” “Forever. I wish you to stay forever,” he said and I felt my eyes water at his honesty. “I love you, Severus.” “I love you too. And I am trying, I am truly trying, Belinna.” “I know,” I said and reached my hand up to caress his chilly cheek.

He leaned into my hand, a small smile across his lips. Such a difference to just a few weeks ago. “It may sound foolish,” he began quietly, “but I… I wished on a falling star for the bravery needed to be closer to you. It fell across the sky just as you left for your walk.” “I-, Sev, I wished on that star too,” I confessed and he blinked at me. “I wished for you to allow me to be close to you…” “Is that so?” “Yes…” “Star of wishes, perhaps we needn’t wish on stars in the future…” “Perhaps we can simply… talk with each other more?”

Severus reached up and cupped my face, smiling softly while I placed my hands on his chest. His heart beat steadily beneath my palms and warmth seemed to envelop the two of us among the garlands and candlelight. “I wish for nothing more than a future where we can speak openly,” he said gently and I felt as if I were melting on the inside. “Let’s make that future a reality, together.” “Together,” he echoed and kissed me deeply. My wish came true, and my hard work and patience were rewarded in the end. My own little Christmas miracle…

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: WAAAAAAAH!!!! Gosh, frikkin darn it, I love this so much and it's so sweet and they are so loving and caring and waaaaah..! I hope you enjoyed the end to this Rickmas2023 serial as well darlings! 🥰👏

+A/N: I am so so so sorry I haven't had the chance to reply to comments/reblogs yet - I am itching to do it and I will get to it as soon as I have a chance to and life isn't going crazy (I love and adore that you comment and reblog darling! I really do!) ❤

Q: Do you feel ready for 2024? A: I am so so so ready for 2023 to be over, it's been the most insane year and I can't quite wrap my head around it now that we're on the home stretch - how did I manage all I managed this year?

TAGLIST: @lizlil @snapefiction @darkthought15 @monstreviolet @flowerdementia @marvelschriss @once-upon-an-imagine @ravennight41 @caseydoodles98 @slytherinprincess03 @theconsultingdetectiveswife @grimmyhild @monster-energies @myobscureimaginarium @snowblossomreads @eternal-silvertongued-prince @cherryglossie @setsuna-meiou31 @helena211 @a-queen-and-her-throne @justsaturn0 @turvi @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @sunnylikesfrogs @mamawolfsmith16 @dianilaws @sassanoe @snapesrn @bernadette-peters12 @sammy-13 @smartowl999 @castleofthorns @serenanight87 @leah1243

@morphineisouthoney @meteoritewolf69 @bionic-otp @elizabeth-baelish @romanceandsarcasm @severuslovebot @glowstar826 @rickmandowneyjr @yellowbadgermole @snapesangel @a-queen-and-her-throne @impulse-anchor @commodoreseverus  @writewithmarites @alisongurl13 @yan-senna @writewithmarites @reinekefoxart @nixislight @lokisbjchnl  @lght-n-drk @ladykardasi @lyrixsnape @sunset90 @mamawolfsmith87 @snowblossomreads @ladykardasi @a-queen-and-her-throne @eternal-silvertongued-prince @lyrixsnape @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @daddythanatos

Want to be tagged? 💚 You can tag yourself HERE! Or tell me and I’ll gladly tag you! 😍

[Dec:2023]

[aylacavebear]

Stockroom Antics - Chapter 18

Maria had changed jobs numerous times over the last five years, more to keep herself safe than anything else. Her mother had told her she was a fairy but she thought it was just her mom being weird. Honestly, though, she had no other way of explaining what had happened to her that stormy day before she'd gone into a coma for two weeks.

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will probably be 18+ I haven't decided yet!

Word Count: 1502

Pairing eventually Dean Winchester x OC

Warnings: Angst

A/N: This one's written a little differently than my last one. Let me know what you think. It's the first time I've tried this type of writing. Chapters will alternate viewpoints as well. I also looked into an actual area so this one could feel more realistic. This one is taking on a life of it's own in a turn I hadn't anticipated, so adding a new tag.

----------------------------------------- Stockroom Antics Chapter 18

After Sam and Maria left the kitchen for that tour, Dean went to the library with the dragon following. He had found it completely weird that images were coming to his mind, and he knew they were coming from Bubbles, convinced that was her name.

“So, how come she can’t see your thoughts,” Dean asked the dragon when he sat down at one of the library tables, the dragon in front of him.

The dragon tilted its head like it was contemplating how to answer him. The word “stubborn” reverberated softly in his mind, making him chuckle.

“Yeah, she seems pretty stubborn. How do you plan on convincing her to talk to me if she can’t hear your thoughts?” he asked somewhat curiously.

Again, the dragon seemed to be thinking. Then Dean could have sworn it shrugged its shoulders.

“Well, you’re no help,” he laughed and then swore the dragon glared at him a little, making him chuckle again. Dean reached out and rubbed the dragon's chin, and it made that purring sound, “This might be easier if she actually believed,” he sighed.

Something Dean had given up on a long time ago was a relationship. His job, hunting monsters, kept him from getting close to anyone, especially after what had happened with Lisa. Even with his thoughts wandering now, the dragon just watched him. The last thing Dean ever wanted was for someone else to get hurt, or worse because a monster was using them as leverage to get to him. 

Well, at least she’d agreed to drinks and conversation, which Sam was thankful for. He hoped it would help ease the tension he could tell had been building since he’d said she was just a case. She looked almost nervous when he brought her a beer, trying not to chuckle when she immediately took a drink of it. 

Dean’s attention kept going from the dragon to her as the dragon kept showing him the image of two people talking. It took everything in him not to chuckle, but he couldn’t keep the smile from playing along his lips. When Sam set the whiskey and glass down for him, he poured himself a double. It was called liquid courage for a reason, and he was gonna need it. Being nervous around a woman was something he’d never struggled with before, but she was different. “So, uh, what did you want to talk about,” she asked, somewhat quietly, not looking directly at either of them.

The little dragon walked over to where she was sitting and climbed into her lap. She set her hand on its back, over its wings, as it curled up comfortably. Sam had been debating how to start this since before he’d ever brought it up to her.

“Well, we’ll have to make a supply run in the next couple of days. What kinds of things do you like to eat?” Sam asked her, finding a simple and safe topic to start off with.

“Oh. Umm,” she began, then paused, sipping her beer for a few moments, “I like most meats, potatoes, cereal, some fruits.”

Sam chuckled, “Tell you what, we’ll make a list, and you can add what you’d like to it, or you could just go with us. Alright, what kinds of things do you like to do?”

“I like to bake and read stuff on Tumblr,” she replied, and it almost seemed like she was embarrassed at that.

Dean raised an eyebrow. She’d said the magic word, bake, “What kind of stuff can you bake?” He felt his breath hitch in his lungs again when she looked up at him with those deep, dark blue eyes of hers.

“All kinds of stuff. Following a recipe is easy,” she replied casually.

“Come on, Sweetheart, you gotta give me something more specific than that,” he chuckled, his curiosity getting the better of him. He really wanted to know what she could bake.

She furrowed her brow a bit, “Breads, cookies, cakes, pies, and everything in between.” “You had me at pie,” he smirked, sipping his drink.

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow, “What’s your favorite?” 

“Apple, but I like all kinds of pie. Cherry is a close second,” he answered, still smirking happily. She was sweet, kind, beautiful, and she could bake. If it weren’t for the pull he already felt for her, he would be feeling one now.

She looked over at Sam, “Maybe we could add the ingredients to the list so I could bake,” she suggested, still seeming a little nervous.

“I don’t see why not,” Sam replied, giving her a friendly smile. He was grateful she was at least talking, and Dean was getting involved. Although, so far, she wasn’t really asking much about them, at least she seemed to be trying.

“Are you two gonna keep the sigils on?” she asked quietly, looking more at her beer than at either of them.

The brothers exchanged a look, having a silent conversation, which they did often. It was something neither of them had discussed, and they weren’t entirely sure how her powers would affect them. “We hadn’t talked about it,” Sam replied and sighed, “We just don’t know the full extent of how your powers will affect us. We’ve been hunters a long time and were just doing it as a precaution. It’s nothing against you,” he tried to reassure her.

“Well, uh, mine is mostly gone anyway,” Dean said, fidgeting a little, as he hadn’t said a thing to his brother about it, “Pretty sure it’s useless right now.” Then he finished his drink and poured himself another.

“Dean,” Sam said quietly, although frustratedly, giving him a look to match. Dean just smiled and shrugged his shoulders, then leaned back in his chair, drink in hand. He glanced over at her just in time to see her smile a little.

“I’ve never hurt anyone, just being around them,” she said quietly, then finished her beer.

Sam got up, grabbed a six-pack out of the fridge, then returned to the library, setting it on the table so he and Maria could both reach it when they needed another. He was slightly frustrated with his brother, but at the same time, if his suspicions were correct, the sigil was pointless for Dean.

“We get that. We just had to take precautions. Like I said, it’s nothing against you,” Sam again tried to reassure her.

“So, uh… what do you guys do when you aren’t hunting?” she asked quietly again, getting herself another beer.

“Well, we watch movies, play phone games sometimes, listen to music,” Dean answered, still with that happy, stupid smile on his face that he couldn’t get rid of, even if he’d wanted to. She was kind of adorable when she was being shy.

“Some of us read too,” Sam added, side glaring slightly at his brother.

She chuckled quietly, “I like to do those things too.” 

To the brothers, she still sounded nervous, “What kinds of things do you like to read?” Sam asked.

They both noticed how she bit her bottom lip nervously, not really looking at either of them. “Mostly fanfics on Tumblr. But I like sci-fi stuff,” she replied, still in that quiet, nervous tone.

“Why do you seem so nervous?” Sam finally decided just to ask her.

She sighed, taking another sip of her beer. “Most people just think I’m weird with the stuff I like, so I don’t usually tell anyone,” she answered quietly.

Both brothers chuckled, “You don’t have to worry about that. We’re not most people. Our lives are like a sci-fi novel or movie,” Sam told her, stifling another chuckle.

“Or like Halloween, every day of the year,” Dean added, pouring himself another drink.

She looked up at the two of them, and all Dean wanted to do was go hold her. She looked so sad to him, causing his smile to fade. Now, all he had to do was figure out what he could possibly say to get her to smile again.

“Weird is kind of our thing. It would be weird if our lives were normal,” Sam told her softly.

“So, you don’t think I’m weird?” she asked, sounding slightly nervous.

“Not really. Not in a bad way anyway,” Dean told her, trying to think of something smooth to say. His mind kept going blank. “You seem like our kind of weird.” Then he wanted to kick himself for saying that, at least until he heard her giggle.

“I don’t think anyone’s told me that before,” she giggled quietly again.

Sam saw the huge smile that Dean got, it went from ear to ear, “Honestly, Maria, just be yourself. Most people would probably find us weird.”

She smiled a little, “I think everyone should be at least a little weird. Normal can be boring,” she stated, finally finding a regular tone and not being as quiet as she had been. However, she was now on her third beer.

That got both brothers laughing. At least she seemed to start opening up. Either that, or she was getting buzzed, helping to lower her inhibitions.

An hour later, she’d had five beers total. The room had been filled with laughter, and now, she and Dean were arguing with Sam.

“Bacon is a meal, and there’s no way you can convince me that it isn’t,” she said with stubborn confidence.

“God, you and Dean both need a new diet. That much grease isn’t good for you,” Sam tried to argue back, making them both laugh again.

“Death by bacon. I can live with that,” Dean mused, sipping another glass of whiskey.

Sam couldn’t believe the statement that had just come out of his brother’s mouth, “You do realize that is an oxymoron, right?” “Whatever it is, I can live with it,” Dean stated, causing Maria to laugh again. It was like music to him, and he never wanted it to end. Then there was her smile, which could brighten any room. 

“So, what’s the weirdest case you two have had to go on?” she asked, still laughing some at the bacon argument.

“Uh, that’s a tough one,” Dean replied, leaning back in his chair again, thinking back over all the cases they’d had over the years.

“We’ve had several weird ones,” Sam chuckled, thinking back.

“Well, what was the weirdest?” she asked again, seeming utterly curious.

“There was that time we were cartoons,” Sam mused, as that had been really weird for him.

“Wait, you were a cartoon?” she asked, seeming surprised and even more curious.

Dean chuckled, “Yeah. It was a ghost that was haunting a TV. I got for the Dean Cave. The ghost pulled us into an episode of Scooby Doo. Velma kissed Sam.”

She laughed at the story. When she caught her breath, though, she looked at Sam, trying to stop the continued giggles, “So, how was it getting kissed by a cartoon?”

He was still slightly embarrassed over that ordeal, “It was… kinda weird.”

“What do you mean by weird? Like, how the kiss felt or just the fact that you were a cartoon?” she asked, tilting her head a bit.

Sam chuckled, “Kissing a fictional character that is a cartoon.”

“What about you, Dean? Did you get to kiss Dapne?” she asked, turning to him and raising an eyebrow.

If only she knew how incredibly adorable he found her, “No. She’s got a thing for Fred,” he chuckled.

Then, out of the blue, Sam put his hand on the side of his head, a look of realization crossing it, “I know why Crowly wants her, before her powers awaken.”

Great way to ruin the mood, Dean thought to himself, but he was also now curious, “Well, spit it out already.”

“Rowena’s his mother. She could perform the spell, to awaken her powers, leaving Maria indebted to the both of them,” Sam told them, finally having put the pieces together.

Maria grabbed the whiskey bottle off the table and drank at least two shots worth, “Wonderful,” she grumbled, setting the bottle back where she’d gotten it from.

“That explains what Crowley told her, about when she changed her mind,” Dean sighed. At this point, he was just hoping that they could keep her safe. If she believed in soulmates or was even open to it, things could go differently, and Dean knew that.

The one thing the brothers could tell about her was that she wasn’t the kind of person to not find a way to pay back a favor or act of kindness. The mood of the evening quickly shifted. Both brothers noticed how she seemed to get uncomfortable with the revelation.

“I’m gonna head to bed,” she said fairly sullenly.

“I’m sorry Maria. It just came to me, and I blurted it out without thinking,” Sam apologized as she stood up, carefully picking up the sleeping dragon.

“It’s okay. I should get some sleep anyway,” she replied, although she sounded like something else was on her mind.

“Okay. Try to get some sleep,” Dean told her, softer than he realized.

She didn’t look back at them before she left them alone in the library and headed to her room.

“Dude, Seriously?!” Dean turned to Sam and told him, frustrated, “That could have waited till later.”

“I said I was sorry. It’s not like I was purposefully trying to upset her. Although, it’s kinda cute how you’re smitten with her,” Sam replied, teasing his brother a little. He really couldn’t resist.

“Jerk,” Dean mumbled, finishing his drink.

“Bitch,” Sam chuckled.

“Back to the Rowena/Crowley thing. He can’t get in here, but she can. Now what are we supposed to do?” Dean said, trying to figure out how they would get around this one.

Sam leaned back in his chair, beer in hand, “There’s not much we can do about that,” he sighed.

The problem with witches is that they were human, so a lot of things wouldn’t repel them or keep them from entering a home, like salt to ward against demons or ghosts. Rowena was also the most powerful witch alive, being over three hundred years old. They didn’t know all of what she could do, but they wouldn’t put anything past her abilities. She had removed the Mark of Cain from Dean, after all. On top of that, she knew where the bunker was, having been there several times to help with certain things when it was in her best interest.

“I might be able to find a protection spell, though,” Sam finally said, breaking the silence and getting on his laptop.

Sam had learned a few tricks from his interactions with Ruby many years ago. Then there were all the books in the bunker, several of which were spell books. The Men of Letters believed in using magic. It was a means to an end.

“Okay, just, don’t forget about us. The last thing I want is to piss that woman off too badly. She’s got a temper,” Dean told him.

So Dean drank while Sam poured through his laptop and books for the next several hours, far into the night. Maria never came back out of her room, and Dean hoped that she was sleeping and not sitting awake and alone.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 19

Tag List: @djs8891 @deans-spinster-witch

Link to the series Master List

A/N: If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, leave me a comment, and I'll make sure to tag you.

[pillowfriendly]

15 lines of dialogue

Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

tagged by @ferrocyan yayayay yippyyy ^^ tagging @smallest-turtle and viewers like you

(coming back to the top to say i definitely did more than just the spoken lines because i misunderstood the prompt. my official stance on this is: whatever. eat my shorts)

---

The man scrambled back further, waving his spoon. “Are you going to rob me?”

“Um.” She conducted a brief inventory of his few belongings and glanced at the single scraggly chocobo. “No?”

---

“My mothers mostly told me forest stories, so I don’t know much about the ocean. But it seems… big… there?” She winced. Jude frowned at her.

“Too much water,” she added, desperate. This was a conversation. She was making conversation.

---

“Does it always have to be so hard?” She spoke to Fray, but would have liked to pose the question to several gods, too.

---

He backpedaled, holding his arm close. The saber lay at his feet, yet he didn’t reach for it. He wasn’t even trying. Why did that make it worse? “Do you even want to live at all?” Fray said. Kethry said.

---

“Yeah, we’ll go out. Unless you can trace the aetheric signature of defensive constructs. Or whatever that last scholar was talking about.”

“Kweh.”

“Me neither.”

---

She threw up her hands. “What for? If there’s something that needs killed again, I’ll get it out of your way. Happy?” She shook grit from her log and stood. “If I can’t do anything else, I’d like to do my job without busybodies.”

---

He thumbed his chin. “Still, the fact that she changed plumage, I assume after she reached full maturity, might make her something of a scientific anomaly.”

Kethry’s ears flattened. “An anomaly? That’s so! So!” she sputtered. “That’s so rude! She’s a good bird!”

“I’m not saying she’s not,” he said, in a tone somewhere between confusion and amusement. His eyes landed on a fin stuck to Phoebe’s beak. “Perhaps it was induced by dietary changes?”

“She’s just blue! Don’t be mean!” Kethry struggled to scramble into the saddle and maintain disapproving eye contact at the same time.

---

“There’s something like this up in Coerthas too. They say it came down when the moon fell. Saw an Echo of it happening first time I came here.” She waved his question away before he could ask. “I get these… past visions, sometimes. Side effect of the Echo. Don’t worry about it. Anyway, this whole thing formed ’cause of the impact.” She narrowed her eyes and tossed him the arrows. “But don’t stand there thinking about what it all means. That’s on your own time.”

---

This arrow flew true, but a twirl of her staff knocked it out of the air. “No, she just has Limsa. For now.”

“Has Limsa.” He drew several arrows to fire in succession. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

She turned to avoid the first shot. “It’s hers.” Ducked under the second. “She can use it.” Sent the next skittering and sparking along the crystal. “Get people to do things.” Startled him by leaping over the fourth with a dragoon’s high jump, and aimed for the fifth on the return. It zipped under her—she swung for it and missed, landing with a thud on the field. “She takes a cut for organizing trade. Makes the fleet sail here or there. But if she messes it up, or pulls too much…” She opened her hands and dropped the staff, then kicked it back up to herself. “Someone will take it from her. And if that can happen, she’s not really in charge of it, see? It’s a tool she can use while she’s got it. Or something.”

---

“Mmbwuh,” said Kethry.

---

“It doesn’t…” She scrunched up her face, then made a waving motion. “When Alphinaud and Y’shtola cast spells, you can feel their aether move when they weave it, and it goes like, fwoosh. But when I try to shape mine into a sigil, or anything like that, it’s like pulling on an anchor rode. Doesn’t move.”

---

“I just. When I lived here. We were hunting, the kids. I mean, we were kids, not that we were hunting any. It was the first time I was supposed to lead. And we ran into one of those, a boar, they grow too big here, and we should have ran, but I tried to take it down anyway, and—” She shook her head, to try and shake out the memory, too. “It got my cousin. Tore her right open.”

---

Still, he’d been whiny about it. “Since when have you gotten so demanding?” he panted.

“Since I decided we were friends.”

His ears flicked. “Oh? And when was that?”

She folded her hands over his head and rested her own on top of them while she considered. “Right now? A while ago? I dunno. I'm hungry, though.”

---

She shook her head, flicking water about as she did so. “The only reason not to help people is if you can't. And you should be sure that you really can’t, not just that it might be hard. Anyway, I know the Echo doesn’t work like that, probably. That's why it's stupid.”

---

Kethry laughed. “You kidding? Of course we can.” She leaned out to look up the incline, then rolled an eye over her shoulder at him. Her grin had too many teeth. “Monsters this big rely on having more power than you, and that's usually enough. It can try to hit us, sure. But it can't fight.”

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Quiet Moments and Old Wounds | Sebastian Sallow x OC #12

a bit of an emotional rollercoaster w this one heh

Summary: After a grueling Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson on the Unforgivable Curses, Sebastian helps Evangeline through painful memories, offering quiet support as they share tea and conversation at the Three Broomsticks. Their banter and open confessions turn the day from a reminder of past trauma into a moment of connection and comfort, reaffirming the unique, “odd” bond between them.

Words: 8,066

Tags: Not Actually Unrequited Love, Mutual Pining, Friends To Lovers, Longing, Unspoken Feelings, Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Implied Smut, Unforgivable Curses, Shared Trauma

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

AO3 Link

A week after the Solstice Ball, Sebastian sat in Defense Against the Dark Arts, his gaze wandering over the rows of students gathered in the classroom. Professor Hecat’s voice echoed faintly, but he absorbed none of it. His thoughts were elsewhere, still preoccupied with the memory of that night in the ballroom—of Evangeline’s hesitant smile, the way her hand had felt in his, and the almost dreamlike quality of the ballroom as he’d held her close. Those dances had left an ache in him that he couldn’t quite dispel, a memory that lingered like a phantom each time he caught sight of her and Lysander together.

Sebastian had anticipated that the ball might tilt things one way or another, that it would either cement her place at Lysander’s side—a thought that made his heart lurch in his chest—or unravel whatever thread of affection she’d felt for the Ravenclaw. But, somehow, it had done neither. No grand fallout, no clearer attachment—just a maddening, uncertain limbo that kept his hopes at a torturous simmer.

Now, each time he looked at Evangeline, he found himself searching for some clue, some sign of what that night might have changed between them, but her expression betrayed nothing.

He sighed inwardly, glancing sideways at her where she sat beside him, scribbling something absentmindedly on her parchment. A tiny crease had formed between her brows, the only hint of distraction he could catch. He’d come to recognize that look, the subtle shift in her expression when she was preoccupied, though whether with school or her thoughts, he couldn’t tell.

Professor Hecat’s voice cut through his thoughts, her tone more serious than usual. “And as we approach the end of term, we’ll be covering two final and crucial topics: Dementors and the Unforgivable Curses.”

The shift in atmosphere was immediate. A weight settled over the room, the usually casual murmur of conversation falling into tense silence. Sebastian’s stomach twisted, his fingers curling around the edge of his desk as though holding on might keep him steady. He’d dreaded this lesson. He’d known it was coming, of course—Hecat had never been one to soften the curriculum, especially where real-world threats were concerned. But still, the reality of it hit harder than he’d expected.

Beside him, Evangeline stilled, the quill in her hand motionless against her parchment. The subtle shift in her posture was all he needed to see. She was bracing herself, steeling her mind for whatever painful reminders lay ahead. On his other side, Ominis sat perfectly still, his hands folded over his desk, though Sebastian could see the tension in his jaw and the slight furrow of his brow.

Professor Hecat’s gaze swept the room, taking in each face as if measuring the class’s readiness to confront what lay ahead.

She took a step forward, her tone steady, professional, and unyielding. “Today, we begin our study of the Unforgivable Curses. We’ll discuss each in turn, examining both the mechanics and the consequences of these spells, as well as their impact on the caster and the victim.” Her voice softened, but only slightly. “While these spells are illegal, some wizards and witches in positions of authority and power have found themselves tempted by them. Others have felt justified in using them. Today’s class is not about justifying these curses but about understanding their dark impact, and why they have been given the title of Unforgivable.”

A few students shifted uncomfortably, and Sebastian could see the ripple of uncertainty move across the room. He couldn’t blame them. This wasn’t the usual theory and practice of hexes or shields; it was about confronting the harshest reality of the wizarding world.

Professor Hecat continued, her eyes now on the far end of the room. “We’ll begin todays class by examining the Cruciatus Curse."

Sebastian swallowed hard, forcing himself not to look directly at Evangeline even though he could feel the air shift beside him, a subtle tightening as she braced herself. The Cruciatus Curse was no mere theory to either of them.

He could still hear her screams. The memory surged through him with vivid clarity—the dim light, the cold, unyielding walls, and the tremor in his hand as he’d raised wand toward her. It was a moment he relived far too often in his nightmares, no matter how much he tried to shove it into some corner of his mind and forget. He’d seen her eyes filled with trust, with fear, and, maddeningly, with a kind of acceptance he hadn’t deserved. She’d told him she trusted him, had braced herself with an impossible courage, but the curse’s effect was merciless.

Sebastian felt the weight of Evangeline’s presence beside him now, her breathing shallow, but steady. Her gaze was focused on the front of the room, her expression carefully controlled, yet he knew she must be remembering it, too. How could she not? And still, she’d stayed by his side. He had never fully understood that—how she’d been able to forgive him, how she still looked at him without the disgust he often felt for himself.

He forced his gaze back to Professor Hecat, whose own eyes flickered with something unreadable, perhaps knowing the toll this lesson would take on certain students. She straightened, her voice firm as she continued.

“Casting the Cruciatus Curse requires intent—not merely the will to cast but the desire to inflict pain. Without it, the curse fails.” Her words were blunt, as though daring her students to understand the weight of that intent. “Some wizards, fueled by hatred or anger, have found that intent comes… disturbingly easy.”

Sebastian swallowed hard, his throat tight as he fought to keep his focus. Hecat’s words sank into him like ice. He hadn’t needed to find that intent, hadn’t searched for that willingness to cause pain... he’d simply summoned it that day to enter the Scriptorium.

And what did that say about him? That both Ominis and Evangeline, faced with the same choice, had refused to cast the curse? That Evangeline, despite the danger, had looked him in the eyes and said, without hesitation, that she couldn't—wouldn’t—bring herself to harm him, not even if it was the only way out?

But he’d done it. He’d raised his wand against her. He’d done what she couldn’t bring herself to do.

What did that make him? A realist, willing to make hard choices? Or a coward, hiding his darkness behind justifications and “what had to be done”?

Professor Hecat was looking at the class now, her gaze as sharp as ever. “Some of you may think you’d never reach for such a spell, never feel the pull of that kind of power.” Her eyes moved across the room, as if daring them to face the truth. “But many dark wizards thought the same before being seduced by these spells. Which is why today’s lesson is so important.”

Her words settled over the room like a shroud. Sebastian risked a glance at Evangeline, hoping for some hint in her expression. But her face was calm, her eyes focused intently on Hecat. Only the slightest flicker of tension in her jaw betrayed her emotions.

At his other side, Ominis’s hands rested tightly clenched on his desk, his usually calm face fixed in a blank mask. For Ominis, the curse was woven into his family’s legacy, another piece of the darkness he had distanced himself from. And yet, despite the burden of his family’s influence, Ominis had resisted that day, too. He’d stayed true to his own principles in a way that Sebastian hadn’t.

As Professor Hecat directed the class to turn to a specific page in their textbooks, the rustling of parchment filled the room, a strange, tense contrast to the stillness of the lesson itself. Sebastian reached for his own book, opening it without really seeing the words, the murky haze of his thoughts making the text blur. But beside him, Evangeline hadn’t moved. She sat frozen, her eyes fixed forward, her quill still poised above her parchment as if she’d forgotten it was even there.

It was subtle, the way she held herself, the faint rigidity in her posture. To anyone else, she might have appeared completely focused on Hecat’s words, but Sebastian could see the fine tremor in her hand, the tightness in her shoulders. She was pretending to listen, her body betraying the effort it took to keep herself steady, to not let the memories pull her under.

Without thinking, he nudged her book open, turning it to the correct page and setting it gently in front of her, his hand brushing hers for the briefest moment. Her fingers twitched, as though brought back to life by his touch, and she blinked, glancing down at the text before her.

Then their eyes met, just for a second, but he could see the raw, unguarded emotion there—the vulnerability she tried so hard to hide. She managed a faint nod, a silent thank you, before turning her attention back to the page, though her eyes remained unfocused, fixed somewhere just beyond the words.

Professor Hecat continued with her lesson, her voice calm but relentless as she detailed the effects of the Cruciatus Curse in clinical terms. “The curse itself can leave lasting physical and psychological trauma. In severe cases, victims report recurring pain, even after the curse is lifted, as well as nightmares, hallucinations, and an inability to trust those around them.” Her gaze shifted momentarily to the back of the room, as though choosing her words with care. “It’s a reminder that magic—especially dark magic—leaves scars that linger far beyond the moment of its casting.”

The words hit Sebastian like a stone in his chest. Admittedly, since that day, he had gone out of his way to avoid learning about the aftereffects of the Cruciatus Curse on its victims. He’d always told himself that knowing would only make things worse, would only deepen the pit of guilt he carried with him every day. And if he didn’t fully understand what he’d done to Evangeline, he could convince himself that maybe, it hadn’t been as bad as he feared.

But Hecat’s words shattered that illusion, leaving him no room to hide. The clinical descriptions—the pain that lingered, the nightmares, the fractured trust—each one twisted the knife a little deeper. He’d known it had hurt Evie, that much was obvious, but hearing it laid out in plain, detached terms drove home part of the truth he’d been avoiding.

Beside him, Evangeline remained still, her gaze steady but distant as though she were somewhere else entirely. He wondered if she felt any of it now, if her body remembered that agony in the way Hecat described, or if the memories haunted her dreams as they did his.

He forced his gaze back to his textbook, the words swimming before his eyes as Hecat droned on, her lecture morphing into a murmur in the background as he wrestled with his own thoughts. Every once in awhile, he sensed movement beside him, a slight shift as Ominis or Evangeline turned a page.

At some point, Sebastian became vaguely aware that Hecat had moved on to discussing the Imperius Curse, her voice describing the effects of mind control, the loss of agency, and the danger of surrendering one's will. But the words slipped past him, distant and muted, failing to penetrate the heavy fog in his mind. He turned another page in his textbook without really seeing it, his hand moving automatically as if that alone might convince anyone watching that he was paying attention. But he wasn’t.

And then, all of a sudden, the bell’s chime jolted Sebastian out of his fog, the sounds of chairs scraping and books closing pulling him back to the present. Around him, students murmured in subdued tones as they shuffled out, the weight of the lesson lingering in the air like a cloud. He saw Ominis rise, his face carefully blank as he gathered his things, his hand moving over his wand in a familiar, steadying gesture. Evangeline, though, hadn’t moved, her gaze still fixed on the page in front of her as if she hadn’t heard the bell at all.

Sebastian hesitated, watching her. The room emptied gradually, even Ominis departed without a word, but Evangeline remained in her seat, eyes fixed on the words without seeing them. It was like she’d shut herself off completely, her usually warm presence now a faint echo of itself.

Still standing at the front of the classroom, Professor Hecat’s expression tightened as she watched Evangeline, her gaze softening in a way Sebastian had never seen. She sighed, a barely audible sound as she approached them, her eyes lingering on Evangeline’s unmoving form. With a gentle shake of her head, she muttered, “No one so young should have to carry so much. Who knows what horrors she faced out there, battling poachers and Ranrok’s loyalists…” Her voice trailed off, the edge of regret in her tone unmistakable.

Sebastian’s stomach twisted. It only made sense, he knew, for Hecat to believe Evangeline’s reaction was tied to her battles last year, the relentless fight she’d waged in the Highlands. And it wasn’t wrong—those experiences had left their own scars. But he knew better. He knew that today’s lesson cut deeper because of him. Because of the choice he had made in that Scriptorium, a choice she hadn’t been able to refuse. The guilt weighed down on him, a silent, unbearable burden.

Hecat glanced at Sebastian, her gaze shrewd, and after a moment’s thought, she seemed to reach a decision. She pulled a small parchment from her desk and scribbled something quickly, the scratching of her quill sharp in the silent classroom. She folded the note and pressed it into Sebastian’s hand, her expression firm.

“You’re very close with her, Mr. Sallow,” she said, her voice low but unmistakably kind. “Take her wherever she’ll be most comfortable. She doesn’t need to attend the rest of her classes today. Nor do you.”

Sebastian’s eyes widened as he looked down at the note in his hand, realizing it was a written permission slip allowing he and Evangeline to miss their remaining classes. Hecat met his gaze, her expression softened with the weight of understanding. “Look after her, Sebastian,” she murmured, her tone carrying an unspoken trust.

He nodded, his throat tight as he murmured, “Yes, Professor.” He glanced back at Evangeline, who was still staring blankly at the page, oblivious to the world around her. Carefully, he placed a hand on her shoulder, the contact gentle as he whispered her name.

“Evie?” he murmured, a softness in his voice that even he hadn’t expected.

Her gaze slowly lifted, unfocused at first, before recognition flickered in her eyes. She looked at him, blinking as if surfacing from a trance, and he held up the note Hecat had given him. “We’ve got permission to leave. Just you and me. Let’s go somewhere quiet.”

Evangeline glanced at Hecat, who offered her a small, reassuring nod before returning to her desk.

Evangeline took a slow, steadying breath and nodded, her fingers brushing against his as she rose from her seat. She looked drained, her usual spark dulled, and a pang of guilt shot through him again. He led her out of the classroom and down the winding corridors, his mind racing for the best place to bring her.

His first choice would usually be the Undercroft, but even their secret hideout could hold painful memories. After all, that was where he and Ominis has first brought her after she'd endured curse.

Beside him, Evangeline walked as though she were half-asleep, her eyes distant and unfocused, as if each step cost her an effort she couldn’t quite summon. Without thinking, Sebastian reached for her hand, clasping it firmly in his own.

As they passed through the crowded corridors, a few students glanced their way, eyebrows raised or whispering to each other as they took in Evangeline’s expression or the way her hand was clasped in Sebastian’s. But each time someone looked too long, Sebastian’s gaze turned sharp, his glare an unspoken warning. Most people quickly averted their eyes, but those who lingered caught the full brunt of his stare, as if he dared them to comment.

Finally, they stepped out of the main castle doors and into the open grounds. It was December, and the winter chill was sharp, seeping through their robes, but Sebastian only realized his mistake halfway down the path, noticing the way Evangeline shivered beside him, her breath visible in faint clouds against the cold air.

He bit back a curse. Like an idiot, he had started leading her toward Hogsmeade—toward the Three Broomsticks, where he knew Sirona could offer them a quiet, private room upstairs, away from the prying eyes and judgment of the castle. But he’d overlooked one small, glaring detail: neither of them had a coat. She was visibly shivering now, her cheeks reddened from the cold, and guilt gnawed at him for not thinking this through.

“You must be freezing, Evie. Merlin, I didn’t think,” he murmured, slowing his steps and pulling her gently to a stop. He was still holding her hand, and he could feel the chill of her fingers even through his own.

Evangeline didn't respond, of course, her hazel eyes glossy and unfocused, as if she were only half-aware of where they were.

Sebastian tightened his grip on her hand, hoping to anchor her back to the present. “Well… let’s keep going, alright? It’s not too far now. And here,” he said, shrugging off his outer robe. “Take this. It’s not much, but it’ll help.” He draped it around her shoulders, the green of his robes now overlapping the red of her own.

She looked up at him, her expression unreadable, and for a moment, he wondered if she’d refuse. But she pulled the robe tighter around herself and gave a slight nod. Her silence felt heavier than any words she might’ve spoken, and he knew that there were no quick fixes, no words to ease the wounds of their shared past. But he could at least keep her company through the chill, through the weight of memories that they both carried.

When they finally arrived at the Three Broomsticks, Sebastian ushered her inside, the warm glow of the inn wrapping around them like a comforting embrace. Sirona’s eyes immediately softened as they crossed the threshold, her usual warmth tempered with a quiet understanding.

Sebastian didn't even have to ask before Sirona gestured to the stairs. “Go on up,” she said kindly, “I’ll bring some tea and soup. You two look like you could use it.”

Sebastian gave her a grateful nod and led Evangeline up the narrow staircase, the warmth of the inn slowly easing the cold from their bones. The small room at the top of the stairs was cozy, with a crackling fire casting gentle light over the wooden walls and plush armchairs. He guided her to the seat nearest the fire, tightening his robe over her shoulders.

She sank into the chair, curling into the fabric as if it offered her some shield from the weight of her thoughts. He kneeled on the floor in front of her, studying her expression as the firelight softened the tension in her features, though her eyes remained distant, clouded with memories that neither of them could quite shake.

Moments later, Sirona appeared, setting down a tray with two steaming mugs and two bowls of soup. She placed a gentle hand on Evangeline’s shoulder, her voice low and kind. “Take your time, love. No one will bother you here.”

Evangeline glanced up, her hazel eyes flickering with a hint of gratitude before Sirona quietly withdrew, leaving them alone in the warmth of the room. Sebastian wrapped his hands around his own mug, savoring the heat. They sat together in the quiet, letting the warmth of the fire and the steam from their tea fill the empty spaces between them. Neither of them spoke. Sebastian simply watched as Evangeline took small, measured sips, her gaze still distant.

Eventually, he noticed her mug was empty, though she continued to hold it stiffly. Without a word, he reached over and gently took it from her hands. She didn’t resist, her fingers loosening their grip even as her gaze shifted to him, a faint question in her eyes. Sebastian offered her a soft, reassuring smile as he placed the empty mug on the tray beside them.

He picked up the bowl of soup Sirona had left for her, cradling it carefully in his hands before holding it out. “Here,” he murmured, his voice as warm as the soup. “Eat a little. You haven’t had anything since breakfast.”

Evangeline looked at the bowl, her brow furrowing slightly as though she hadn’t even realized her hunger until he’d mentioned it. With a faint, almost hesitant nod, she took the bowl from him, her fingers brushing his in a touch that was both brief and grounding. She lifted the spoon slowly, and he was relieved to see her take a small sip, the warmth of the broth seeming to bring a bit more color back to her cheeks.

Sebastian remained close, his own soup untouched as he watched her in quiet concern. Each careful spoonful she took felt like a small victory, a sign that she was re-emerging from the dark place the lesson had dragged her into. Her eyes flickered toward him a few times, and he held her gaze each time, offering silent reassurance with a look that said, I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.

When she’d eaten a few spoonfuls, she set the bowl down, her hands still trembling slightly. She met his gaze, and there was a faint flicker of something softer in her eyes—gratitude, perhaps.

“I… don’t know why it’s still so hard,” she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I’d moved on from it… or at least made peace with it.”

Sebastian felt a pang in his chest, an ache that was all too familiar. He reached out, his hand resting gently over hers. “I… I’m so sorry, Evie,” he replied softly.

The words felt painfully inadequate, a mere whisper against the weight of the hurt they both carried. He wished he had something better to offer, something that could actually ease the pain he’d inflicted, but all he could do was sit here, his fingers curled around hers, hoping that his presence might be worth something, anything at all.

Evangeline’s gaze softened as she looked at him, her hand trembling slightly in his. “I told myself that forgiving you would be enough,” she murmured, “And I do forgive you. But… somehow, that hasn’t stopped the memories from coming back."

Sebastian’s grip on her hand tightened just slightly, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a small, steadying gesture. “Evie… I don’t deserve your forgiveness.” His voice grew thick, and he had to swallow hard to keep his composure. “I wish I could take it all back. I wish you didn’t have to carry this… because of me.”

Evangeline’s gaze flickered over his face, a trace of sadness mingling with something almost like resignation. “I know, Sebastian. I know you would change it if you could.” She managed a small, weary smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

They sat there, suspended in that quiet space between regret and acceptance, neither of them moving as they lingered in the warmth of the fire. Finally, after a long pause, Evangeline’s gaze softened further as she took in Sebastian’s face, her thumb idly tracing a small circle over his hand as if she were lost in thought.

“Thank you for looking after me,” she murmured, her voice laced with quiet sincerity. “I know you’d take any excuse to skip class,” she added with a playful smile, “but… it really means a lot that you’re here.”

Sebastian’s smile softened, his heart tugging as he saw that glimpse of her usual spirit breaking through. “Hey, I’ll take any excuse to be the hero, especially for you,” he replied, the teasing note in his voice underscored by the warmth in his gaze.

She shook her head with a small laugh, her eyes reflecting the firelight. “You make it sound so noble,” she said, her voice light but her smile grateful. Then her gaze turned inward, her brow creasing as if trying to make sense of her thoughts. “I’m… honestly not sure what happened. It was like my mind just… shut off." Her voice grew even softer, tinged with an uncertainty she didn’t often show. “If I'm honest, I don’t think anyone else could have coaxed me out of it."

Sebastian’s heart ached at her words, at the trust she had placed in him even after everything. He knew he didn’t deserve it, but he also knew he would hold onto it, safeguard it like the rarest of treasures. "Well... I'll always be here when you need me, Evie."

She looked up at him, the gratitude in her hazel eyes deeper than words could convey. “I know."

They sat there, the silence between them filled not with lingering memories but with a mutual understanding, a warmth that had been hard-won. In that quiet room, with only the fire and each other, it felt like they’d carved out a small sanctuary. And after a moment, Evangeline's lips curved into a small, almost mischievous smile.

“You know,” she began, her voice lightening slightly, “I still catch myself feeling scandalized when I’m alone in a room like this with you.” She laughed quietly, the sound like a soft release of tension. “Back in the Muggle world, something like this would be seen as… improper.”

Sebastian chuckled, though a flicker of curiosity sparked in his eyes. “So, technically, I should be very concerned about my reputation then?”

“Oh, definitely,” Evangeline replied, her eyes glinting with amusement. “If you were a Muggle, you’d be a rake. And my propriety would be ruins,” she added with a mock sigh. “It’s such a relief to be a witch. Having a best friend who’s a boy would’ve caused such a fuss in the orphanage. And yet, here we are… utterly scandalous. Unchaperoned, close quarters, tea…"

Sebastian grinned, grateful for the shift in mood. “Imagine what they’d think at the orphanage if they knew I’ve been sneaking around the castle with you all this time.”

Her laugh grew, and she leaned back slightly in her chair, looking thoughtful. “It’s funny—there are so many things in the wizarding world that feel… freer, in a way. I keep expecting someone to rush in with rules about how close we can sit or how much time I can spend with you. But here, no one seems to mind.”

Sebastian tilted his head, intrigued. “What kind of rules did you have growing up?”

“Oh, all sorts,” she replied, her gaze drifting to the fire as she spoke. “Once we were "grown up" we couldn’t spend too much time with the boys, and we certainly couldn’t be alone with one. It was all about appearances and being ‘proper.’” She rolled her eyes with a laugh. “Everything felt so rigid. In the wizarding world, nobody blinks twice about us being alone like this.”

"Well, for what it’s worth, I’d be a gentleman either way." he murmured, smirking as he gently squeezed her hand. His tone softened as he added, “I think you’ve had enough scandal in your life."

“Well I do appreciate that. But for the record,” she said, her voice lighter, though the sincerity in her eyes grounded her words, “I think if I was going to scandalize myself, I couldn’t ask for better company.”

Sebastian’s gaze lingered on her, his heart thudding a little harder, a warmth blooming in his chest, "Well then, I’ll do my best to live up to the honour,” he replied, his voice soft, but laced with the same gentle playfulness she’d brought into the moment.

Evangeline looked down, a hint of colour creeping into her cheeks as she toyed with the edge of Sebastian’s robe draped over her shoulders. After a moment, she glanced up at him, a mix of hesitation and something bashful in her expression.

“Can I… ask you something?” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze flickered away again, clearly wrestling with whatever it was she wanted to ask.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, intrigued. He could count on one hand the times Evangeline had looked truly bashful around him. “Of course,” he replied gently, his curiosity growing. “You can ask me anything.”

She nodded, taking a steadying breath before looking back at him. “Well, it’s… it’s just that growing up in the Muggle world, like I said we had these strict rules. You might have heard of debutantes and all that. There's this whole… season of events where women are presented to society, and there are all these strict expectations about what’s proper.”

Sebastian listened, fascinated, as she continued, “Things like being alone with eligible bachelors, dancing too close, kissing... well, it's all forbidden.” Her cheeks coloured further, but her gaze didn’t waver, even as she stumbled over the last words. “But… it’s different in the wizarding world. There don’t seem to be as many… restrictions.”

Sebastian’s expression softened as he absorbed her words. It struck him how different her upbringing must have been and how little they’d ever spoken about such an intimate topic.

“Yeah, I guess it is different,” he admitted, a slight smile touching his lips. “For one, it's not considered a scandal to sneak around and... kiss different girls.” He chuckled, hoping to lighten the mood, but as he spoke, he noticed her expression shift ever so slightly, a shadow crossing her face.

Her jaw tensed, her mouth set in a thin line. It was subtle, but enough to make Sebastian pause. His brows furrowed as he tried to decipher the change. He searched her face, hoping for a hint of what she might be feeling, but she just continued.

“Right,” she murmured, her voice carrying a slight edge he hadn’t expected. “You seem to be doing a lot of… sneaking around these days.” She glanced away, and he caught the barest flicker of something in her gaze—something sharp.

He cleared his throat, his voice careful, "So... what exactly is your question?"

Evangeline shifted slightly, clearly weighing her next words, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond him. After a moment, she looked back, and there was a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes that caught Sebastian off guard.

“Well,” she started slowly, a bit more guarded now, “I guess I was wondering… what are the rules? Or rather, what’s considered acceptable here? I know it sounds silly, but… I admit, I don't quite know what I'm doing half the time, and I just assume that Lysander knows what he’s doing,” she finished.

Sebastian felt a dull ache in his chest as Evangeline spoke, her voice so open and vulnerable as she admitted to her uncertainty in navigating their world. And that she was sharing this with him, of all people, only heightened the ache. Because here he was, watching her worry about navigating a relationship with someone else, with someone who had everything he wanted with her.

He took a steadying breath, doing his best to quell the twist of jealousy within him. “Right,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “Well, I can certainly try to... explain things.” He paused, considering how to explain the wizarding world’s expectations, especially after everything she’d already seen at the Solstice Ball.

He began tentatively, "Besides the fact that friendships between men and women aren’t looked down upon, which you already know... intimate things aren't quite like the Muggle world either. It’s… well, people don’t expect you to keep a perfect reputation when it comes to affection.” He looked away briefly, rubbing the back of his neck, his own cheeks warming at the conversation. “That said, it’s something people try to keep private. Public displays—especially if they’re, um… premarital—are seen as a bit tasteless.”

Sebastian chanced a glance at her, his pulse quickening again at the way she was listening, intent and curious. She nodded, encouraging him to go on.

“And it’s the same with more, um, physical things,” he continued, his voice quiet. “There’s this unspoken understanding—if it’s not flaunted, if nobody saw it, then it's inconsequential. It’s… a matter of discretion. But…” He hesitated, catching her gaze again, his own feeling more intense than he’d meant. “When it comes to something like premarital sex, that’s still frowned upon,” he said finally, feeling even more colour rise to his face. He'd never imagined himself ever even uttering the word 'sex' in Evangeline's presence. And when Sebastian dared a look back at her, her eyes were wide, listening closely, and he had to look away, feeling suddenly very aware of the space between them.

“So… it’s not like there’s this looming threat over my head, then?" She murmured, "The whole… ‘one wrong step and you’re ruined’ idea?”

Sebastian shook his head, a small, reassuring smile playing on his lips. “No, nothing like that. Intimate things are fine, even expected eventually… just not in public.”

She nodded slowly, processing his words. “So, privacy is key, then.”

“Exactly,” he replied, though he could feel that same dull ache intensify as he imagined her thinking this over in the context of her relationship with Lysander.

Sebastian forced himself onward, adding, “And as you already know, these expectations are even more important when attending formal events.” Sebastian’s voice softened as he explained, his gaze lingering on her face. “The Solstice Ball is a perfect example. It is expected that anyone attending keeps up appearances, shows a certain level of propriety. Even with all this supposed freedom, there are still standards.” He paused, "Not to mention the wizarding world's own courting season."

Evangeline frowned, a flicker of curiosity mingling with confusion in her gaze. “Courting season?”

Sebastian nodded, his tone becoming almost matter-of-fact to mask the vulnerability beneath his words. “Yes, in the summer after we graduate, people are expected to find a partner by then if they haven’t already. It’s not a rule, exactly, but… it’s encouraged. Families tend to host gatherings, and it’s… a bit like what you mentioned with the debutantes. Young people are formally introduced, and those looking for partners use it as a time to meet others with similar interests, background, family connections—all that.” He shrugged, a small, self-deprecating smile on his face. “It’s all a bit stiff. And for families like Ominis's or Lysander's, it’s practically an expectation.” He tried to keep his tone neutral, but the bitterness slipped in at the end.

Evangeline looked down, her expression thoughtful, perhaps imagining herself amidst such an event. She shifted slightly, her fingers still tracing the fabric of his robe as if seeking comfort. “So… do people actually find love through this courting season?”

“Sometimes,” he replied with a small nod. “It’s mostly alliances and matches that benefit families, but there are real relationships that come from it. Some people find what they’re looking for, and others—well, they might settle or go their own way.”

Evangeline fell quiet, and Sebastian thought that might be the end of it. But then she turned those hazel eyes on him, a look he knew too well—a look that meant she was about to say something he’d rather she didn’t.

“So…” she started, her voice calm but edged with a spark of curiosity. “What about you?”

Sebastian froze, caught off guard. “What about me?”

She kept her gaze steady, undeterred. “You’re sneaking off with girls all the time so... What exactly are you doing with them?”

He felt his heart kick up a notch, and despite himself, he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. She’d caught him, and for once, he was the one left stumbling over his words. “I… it’s nothing serious,” he muttered, trying to keep his voice casual. “Just a bit of harmless snogging."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced by his attempt at nonchalance. “So, you’re not… doing anything else?” Her cheeks tinged pink as she asked, but her expression remained intent.

"I haven’t… I mean, I don’t— not usually." Sebastian stumbled over his words, feeling heat rise to his cheeks as he tried to clarify himself.

Evangeline watched him, her gaze unyielding, as though she were dissecting every word he said. For some reason, he found himself wanting to assure her further, to make her understand that all his "sneaking around" was shallow, the girls were all fleeting things, lacking any real depth.

Evangeline’s gaze held steady, “So, you… you've seen girls naked then?”

Sebastian’s face flushed, and he looked away, struggling to find the words. “Well, I mean… yes. Once. Maybe twice…” He trailed off, feeling more awkward with each word, as though he were somehow confessing to a crime.

Evangeline’s expression remained carefully neutral, but Sebastian could see the way her fingers tightened around the edge of his robe, her knuckles whitening ever so slightly. She looked away, nodding as though processing his answer, though her face was impossible to read.

“Right,” she murmured softly, her tone light and nonchalant, but Sebastian could hear the faintest strain in her voice. “Well, I suppose it’s good to… explore and all that.”

Silence settled between them, thick and heavy, and Sebastian shifted uncomfortably, feeling as though he were standing on the edge of something he couldn’t quite grasp. Finally, in a half-hearted attempt to lighten the mood, he asked, “What about you, then? I mean… have you…?” His voice trailed off, his curiosity suddenly giving way to uncertainty. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to know the answer, but the question hung in the air all the same.

She blinked, turning her gaze back to him, surprised by the question. Her cheeks flushed faintly as she considered him, but she didn’t look away. “Me?” she echoed, clearly stalling.

He nodded, something in him both desperately wanting and dreading her answer. “Yeah. I mean, you’re with Lysander… is it serious? How far have you gone?”

Evangeline hesitated, the question hanging between them like a fragile thread. Finally, she took a slow breath, her eyes flicking away before meeting his again. “Well… besides kissing, I haven’t really… done anything more.” Her voice was quiet, almost apologetic, as though she felt her answer might disappoint him. “Not with anyone.”

Sebastian’s chest tightened with an overwhelming sense of relief, but he quickly hid it, keeping his expression neutral.

Evangeline glanced at him, a faint smile tugging at her lips, though her eyes betrayed her vulnerability. “I suppose that must seem rather… tame to you.”

“No,” Sebastian said quickly, his voice firmer than he’d intended. “No, it doesn’t seem tame at all.” He hesitated, struggling to find the right words to reassure her.

Evangeline looked down, a faint, uncertain smile playing at her lips. “The truth is… I’m not even sure how to go further. In the Muggle world, no one talks about these things. It’s all… well, improper.” She paused, the vulnerability in her voice almost heartbreaking. “I just… never learned what I’m supposed to do, or even what I’d want to do.”

Sebastian’s mind reeled. Relief surged through him, quickly followed by a wave of something selfish, something he struggled to keep at bay as he pictured her innocence, her genuine uncertainty. The thought of her not knowing these things, of her confiding in hi about this made his heart race and his mind drift to places he tried to steer away from.

And he knew, despite his best intentions, that he was dangerously close to letting his own feelings slip, but he had to push those thoughts away, had to keep his own selfish fantasies under control.

"You... You don’t have to know everything," Sebastian managed, his voice a little rougher than he intended, and he quickly cleared his throat to steady himself. "It’s not like there’s some checklist or… set of instructions you’re meant to follow."

Evangeline looked at him, her brow furrowed, eyes scanning his face as though she were seeing him in a new light. “Then… how did you learn? I mean, you... seem to know a lot."

Sebastian felt his face warm, not entirely prepared for her question. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to find a way to answer without sounding like he’d spent all his free time learning about such things. “Well, a lot of it just… comes from being in the Hogwarts dorms. You pick things up.” He laughed softly, realizing how strange it sounded. “When you’re around the same group of boys from age eleven onward, nothing’s off limits for long. Topics… come up.”

She raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “So it’s all just dormitory gossip, then?”

“Partly, yeah,” he admitted, smiling a little, though the truth was a bit more complicated. “But, there’s… more to it. There are books about this stuff."

She seemed to be digesting this, her expression a mix of amusement and curiosity. “Books?” she echoed, as if the idea had never occurred to her.

“Yeah, books,” he replied, trying not to laugh at the look on her face. "Tomes and Scrolls sells more than just dusty old tomes on proper wand techniques."

Evangeline’s eyes widened, a spark of both amusement and disbelief dancing in her gaze. “Wait… you’re telling me that the same place we go to buy standard spellbooks has books on—” she paused, her cheeks flushing as she lowered her voice, “—relationships?”

Sebastian grinned, enjoying her reaction far more than he should. “Oh, they’ve got everything,” he replied, barely suppressing a chuckle. “And not just basic advice, either. Some of it’s actually quite… detailed.”

Her eyes narrowed, her mouth quirking up into a small smirk. “And… you’ve actually read these?”

Sebastian crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair with a mock defensive expression. “I never said that,” he protested, though the color rising to his cheeks likely betrayed him. “Just because I know they’re there doesn’t mean I’ve read them cover to cover.”

“Oh, of course not,” she replied, her voice dripping with playful skepticism. “You've just flipped through them looking for a chapter on ‘How to Sneak Away with Girls Without Getting Caught’?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Please, I’d hardly need a book to tell me that,” he quipped, smirking as her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Anyway, you’re making it sound like I’m leading some kind of scandalous double life.”

She shrugged, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “Well, from what I’ve heard, I wouldn’t be the only one thinking that.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, “Careful, Evie, that sounds suspiciously like jealousy.”

Evangeline's smile faltered for just a moment, an almost imperceptible shift that made Sebastian wonder if he’d struck a nerve. But then, just as quickly, her expression smoothed over, and she rolled her eyes, waving his comment away with a flick of her hand.

“Jealous? Of what exactly? I'm not the one having to keep my snogging limited to the confines of a closet."

Sebastian chuckled, feigning an air of defensiveness. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. Some of the best conversations happen in closets, you know.”

“Oh, I’m sure they do,” she replied dryly, arching an eyebrow.

Sebastian chuckled, marvelling at the way she matched his teasing so effortlessly, as if they were playing a familiar game only they understood. It was easy to lose himself in the warmth of her laughter, the light in her eyes. And it struck him as surreal, almost absurd, how the day had begun with such heavy shadows—the lesson on the Unforgivable Curses, the memories it had dredged up, her visible struggle to keep herself grounded. It was only half an hour ago that Evangeline had been deadly quiet, her gaze distant and haunted, as though revisiting every painful moment from their shared past. The weight of that memory still pressed at the edges of his thoughts, even as he sat there bantering with her like nothing had changed.

And yet, somehow, here they were—laughing, teasing each other.

It was strange but also reassuring, a reminder that they could always seem find comfort in each other, even after everything they’d been through.

“What?” Evangeline’s voice cut through his thoughts, a bemused smile tugging at her lips as she caught him staring.

Sebastian blinked, shaking himself back to the present. “Nothing,” he replied, though he could feel a small smile creeping onto his face. “Just… it’s odd, I suppose.”

“What is?”

He hesitated before letting out a huffed laugh, "Us."

Evangeline’s smile softened, her gaze dropping briefly before meeting his again, a look of understanding passing between them. She didn’t need him to explain further; she knew exactly what he meant.

“Yeah,” she murmured, a warmth in her eyes that made his chest ache. “But odd suits us, I think. Besides, I wouldn’t know what to do if we were normal."

Sebastian’s smile grew, the warmth in his chest intensifying as he looked at her. “I think we left any hope for normalcy behind the first time we snuck out past curfew. Or maybe when we ran headfirst into that nest of Ashwinders.”

Evangeline laughed, her gaze brightening. “If I remember correctly, it was you who dragged me into that little adventure,” she teased, nudging his shoulder. “Though I suppose I did follow willingly enough.”

“See?” he grinned, crossing his arms. “Perfect partners in crime.”

Her eyes lingered on his for a moment, a flicker of something deeper passing between them before she shook her head with a smirk. “Alright, partner, I’m parched from all this reminiscing and self-reflection. What do you say we go get a butterbeer?”

Sebastian chuckled, relieved at her suggestion, “Now that’s the best idea I’ve heard all day."

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