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writingsoftarnishedsilver · 4 days ago

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Swimming | Sebastian Sallow x OC #59

Summary: ;)

Words: ~8,400

Tags: Confessions, Mutual Pining, Smut Adjacent

Timeline: Early September

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

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Evangeline froze, her mind momentarily blank as Sebastian’s shirt hit the sand. She hadn’t expected him to take her seriously. The idea of swimming had been a passing remark, something to fill the silence between them and steer them away from the weight of their earlier argument. And yet here he was—barefoot, bare-chested, and completely unapologetic about it.

The fading light cast a soft glow that caught on the planes of his chest and shoulders, highlighting every defined muscle and faint scar. He’d grown broader in the past few months, and it was all on display—the hard edges and smooth planes of him, the breadth of his chest and the angular cut of his abdomen.

Her eyes couldn’t help but wander, tracing the faint smattering of freckles that dotted his shoulders, subtle and almost boyish against the otherwise sharp lines of him. Her gaze lingered, catching on the faint trail of hair below his navel that disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers, and heat crept into her cheeks despite the coolness of the night air.

Evangeline swallowed hard, tearing her gaze away and forcing her thoughts back into order. She hadn’t meant for things to go like this—not after the way she’d stormed off, her emotions raw and exposed. She knew why Sebastian had followed her, why he’d come looking for her. He’d wanted answers. Closure. Something to mend the fracture between them. And yet, since the moment he’d arrived, he hadn’t pressed. He’d been patient, careful even, letting her dictate the pace of their conversation.

That patience was what had thrown her off the most.

Evangeline knew Sebastian. She knew his pride, his stubbornness, his instinct to charge headlong into everything, to fix things with grand apologies and passionate words. But tonight, he hadn’t done any of that. He’d stopped short of an apology, stopped short of pushing her to talk. Instead, he’d waited. For what, she wasn’t sure—her temper to cool, perhaps, or for her to make the first move. Maybe even for her to tell him to leave. And now, this strange in-between had settled over them, fragile but strangely comforting.

She’d been talking so calmly with him—not because she wasn’t still hurt, but because she wasn’t ready to face the inevitable. The confrontation they’d been skirting around all evening. The confrontation she knew she couldn’t avoid forever. It would come, and when it did, it would leave them either stronger or broken. And she was terrified of the latter, so she’d kept things light, conversational, even teasing. Anything to delay the moment when everything might come crashing down.

“Well?” Sebastian said, his voice breaking through her thoughts. He glanced over his shoulder at her, his dark eyes glinting in the fading light. “Don’t tell me you were bluffing.”

Evangeline’s mind raced as she tried to summon a coherent response. “I—uh…” She cleared her throat, dragging her gaze away from him and fixing it firmly on the lake. "Do you really expect me to... to just jump in?"

Sebastian's eyes narrowed. “What’s stopping you?” he asked. “You were the one lamenting the lack of swimming in our lives.”

“That was hypothetical,” she countered, crossing her arms defensively. “You’re the one who's turning it into a reality.”

“Exactly,” he replied, now reaching for the button of his trousers. “So come on."

Evangeline blinked, averting her eyes. "I can't just go into the water in my dress Sebastian," she managed to retort. “The, um. The boning in the corset will get ruined, and do you have any idea how expensive these things are?”

Sebastian blinked, clearly not expecting the sudden turn into practicality. “Expensive,” he echoed, looking vaguely bewildered. “Right. Of course. You dress has boning… and it's expensive.”

“Yes, and I’m not about to ruin it just because you’ve decided tonight’s the night for an impromptu swim,” she replied more steadily now, folding her arms and glaring at him.

He tilted his head, studying her for a moment before realization dawned on his face. A flicker of something she couldn’t quite place passed through his expression—nervousness? Determination?—but he quickly schooled it into his usual smirk. “Alright,” he said, voice a little quieter now. “Then we’ll fix that.”

She raised an eyebrow, suspicious. “Fix what, exactly?”

Sebastian stepped closer, his confidence faltering slightly as he cleared his throat. “The dress. I can, uh… help you take it off.”

Evangeline’s eyes widened, heat rushing to her cheeks. “What?”

He held up his hands, his face turning a faint shade of pink. “Look, I’m just saying—if the corset back is the only thing keeping you out of the water, then I’ll help. That’s all."

She stared at him, caught somewhere between mortification and disbelief. “Sebastian, are you seriously offering to—”

“Undo the laces? Yes,” he interrupted, though his tone was uncharacteristically careful. “I’m not about to let you sit this out because of a stubborn bit of boning.”

Evangeline bit her lip, torn between laughing at his audacity and retreating entirely. But the truth was, she didn’t want to leave. For all her inner turmoil, being here—just here—with him was better than the alternative. Better than walking away entirely, better than facing what the world outside this quiet moment demanded of them.

"Okay," she said slowly, her cheeks burning as she glanced down at the lake rather than meet his gaze. "But... you do realize that under this, I’m only wearing…" She hesitated. "You know… ."

Sebastian, who had taken a step closer, visibly stiffened. For a moment, and she could swear his ears turned a shade darker under the moonlight. But instead of retreating, he cleared his throat and nodded, doing his best to appear unbothered.

"Yeah, it's fine," he said, though his voice was just slightly too quick. He gestured to his trousers, his smirk returning but with an edge of bashfulness that made it feel less like a tease and more like a reassurance. "I won't be diving in fully dressed, will I? So, you’ll be in your underthings. And I’ll be in mine. Completely fair. No big deal, right?"

Evangeline blinked, momentarily at a loss for words. No big deal? He was saying it so casually, as if the thought of both of them standing there, practically undressed after they'd just had a shouting match, wasn’t completely mortifying. "Right," she said faintly, trying to sound more composed than she felt. "No big deal."

Sebastian stepped closer, his movements deliberate and unhurried, as if he were giving her every chance to stop him. Evangeline felt the shift in the air before she heard the faint crunch of sand beneath his feet, his presence settling behind her like a steadying force. The warmth of him, so close yet not quite touching, sent a ripple of awareness down her spine.

Her breath hitched as she sensed his hesitation, a momentary pause that felt like the calm before a storm. Then, with a touch so light it was almost imperceptible, his fingers brushed against the ties of her dress.

Evangeline had been in love with Sebastian for so long that she’d imagined him undressing her countless times in the privacy of her own thoughts—moments steeped in longing, tenderness, and stolen intimacy. But she’d never, never expected it to happen in a scenario like this: standing barefoot at the edge of a moonlit lake, her cheeks aflame and her corset undone by his hands under the guise of practicality after they'd just stumbled out of a heated argument that neither of them had truly resolved.

Her breath hitched as his fingers worked at the laces, each pull sending a jolt of something unfamiliar through her. She couldn’t deny the thrill of it, nor the longing it dredged up, raw and unrelenting. But with it came a rush of self-consciousness—her mind spinning with the thought of him seeing her, really seeing her, with nothing to hide behind but her own vulnerability.

The ties loosened one by one, and her pulse quickened. Of course, this wasn’t the first time they’d shared an intimate moment. The memory of the Prefects’ Bath flickered through her mind, that night when they’d both shed their clothes and submerged themselves in the steaming water. But there had been bubbles then, clouds of froth that had kept her modesty intact.

Now, there were no bubbles to shield her, no warm water to obscure the curves and imperfections she tried so hard not to dwell on. It was just him, her, and the moonlight, casting its soft glow over everything she wanted to hide.

“There,” Sebastian murmured, his voice low as he finished untying the last of the laces. He stepped back, giving her space, though his fingers lingered for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. “You’re free.”

She swallowed hard, clutching the loosened bodice to her chest as she turned her head slightly, just enough to catch his expression out of the corner of her eye. He wasn’t looking at her, not directly—his gaze was fixed somewhere over her shoulder, his jaw tight, as though he were making a conscious effort to give her privacy.

“Thanks,” she said softly, her voice barely audible.

Sebastian cleared his throat, stepping back further. "Sure."

Evangeline stood motionless for a moment, watching as Sebastian now worked at the button of his trousers.

Steeling herself, she glanced around for somewhere to place her dress. Her eyes landed on a flat, dry rock a few feet away, its surface smooth and clean. Perfect.

With trembling hands, she finally let the rest of her dress slip away. The cool night air kissed her exposed skin, and a wave of self-consciousness hit her like a crashing tide. She was bare now, save for the lace of her bra and underwear, and every one of insecurities clawed its way to the surface.

The stretch marks she bore from the rapid weight loss and gain after fifth year—the ones that etched themselves across her hips and stomach and thighs—seemed glaringly obvious under the moonlight. The soft curve of her belly, the rolls on her back, the dimpled skin of her thighs. The scars from Quidditch mishaps and childhood scrapes. She felt the weight of it all, the imperfections she had long tried to accept but never quite could. Here, under the stars, it felt as if the world could see them all, and most painfully, so could he.

Sebastian, having finished unbuttoning his trousers, let the fabric slide down his legs before stepping out of them, leaving him in nothing but his briefs. The moonlight caught on the lean strength of his frame—the broad shoulders, the taper of his waist, the long lines of his legs. His hair, dark and tousled, fell slightly into his eyes as he reached down to gather his trousers, balling them put before tossing them up the beach.

Swallowing hard, Evangeline started toward him, hoping to slip into the water before he could get a proper look at her bare form. The cool sand pressed against her feet as she stepped closer to the water’s edge, her arms wrapped tightly around her midsection in a subconscious attempt to shield herself.

But Sebastian turned at the sound of her approach, his gaze instinctively flickering toward her before quickly darting away, as if realizing too late the vulnerability of the moment. His jaw tightened, and he cleared his throat. "Uh, tell me how the water is?"

She let out a breathless laugh, part nervous and part exasperated as she waded into the lake. The coolness bit at her toes, and she focused on the sensation, letting it ground her as she moved deeper into the lake.

Sebastian, to his credit, kept his gaze firmly fixed on the water in front of him. His posture was stiff, his usual air of nonchalance tempered by a rare, palpable awkwardness.

“It’s cold,” she said finally, her voice cutting through the silence. “Refreshing, though.”

He nodded, still not looking directly at her. "Good. That’s… good."

Evangeline couldn’t help but smirk, despite her own nerves. “You can stop pretending you’re suddenly fascinated by the lake, you know. I’m already in the water.”

Sebastian glanced at her, his expression sheepish. “Just trying to be a gentleman,” he said, his smirk returning, though it was softer than usual.

“Well,” she said, now swimming toward the center of the small lake, “if that’s the case, you’d better get in before I change my mind about this whole thing.”

His laugh was low and warm as he followed her, the ripples of the water spreading outward with each step he took.

"You're right," he agreed. "It's refreshing."

They swam in companionable silence for a while, the cool water easing the sharp edges of their tension but not erasing it entirely. It still hung in the air between them, weighty and unspoken, like a storm waiting for the right moment to break.

Meanwhile, the quiet sounds of the lake surrounded them—the gentle ripple of water as they moved, the distant call of an owl, and the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. Evangeline tilted her head back, her eyes tracing the endless stretch of stars above them. The sky seemed alive with shimmering light, so vast and serene that, for a moment, it almost allowed her to forget the weight in her chest. Almost. But the knot of their unresolved argument still coiled tightly within her, tugging at the edges of her calm. It was in the way Sebastian’s movements in the water were just a touch too deliberate, in the way he kept glancing at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. He was waiting. And she knew why.

Sebastian, maintaining his patience, let out a contented sigh. “You don’t get skies like this in London,” he said, his voice low and reflective. “Too much smoke. Too much noise.”

Evangeline turned her head toward him, tracing his features as he gazed up at the sky.

“You miss it, don’t you?” she asked, her voice soft as her eyes traced the stars above. “Feldcroft, I mean.”

Sebastian nodded slowly, still gazing upward. “I do. The peace. It’s hard to find a place like this anywhere else. London’s too loud. Too busy.”

“It’s nice that Feldcroft will always be here for you to come back to,” she replied lightly, her tone tinged with a wistfulness she hadn’t intended. Their conversation slipped into a comfortable quiet again as they floated, the water cradling them in its cool embrace.

But the serenity didn’t last.

The splash caught her off guard, a sudden burst of cool water striking her arm and sending a shiver through her skin. She flinched, startled, her eyes snapping to Sebastian, who wore an expression of feigned innocence that only made her suspicion grow.

It wasn’t much—just a small, lazy flick of his hand through the water—but it shattered the fragile tranquility of the moment. For a second, she didn’t move, her mind racing to catch up with the unexpected interruption.

“Did you just...?” she began, her brow furrowing as she stared at him.

Sebastian shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as though he couldn’t quite hold back a grin. “What? I didn’t do anything.”

Evangeline narrowed her eyes at him, her confusion giving way to incredulity. “Oh, you didn’t, did you?”

“Not a thing,” he said, his voice light, almost teasing. But there was something beneath it, something she couldn’t quite name—a tension he was trying to hide behind the playful glint in his eyes.

For a moment, she just stared at him. The shock of the gesture had faded, replaced by a flicker of realization. Maybe he wasn’t just waiting for her to bring up the inevitable—maybe he was delaying it too.

The thought unsettled her, but it also... softened something inside her. The weight of their argument, the tension that had lingered all evening, hadn’t disappeared. But maybe neither of them wanted to face it just yet.

Narrowing her eyes, she cupped her hands and sent a splash of water straight back at him. He yelped, sputtering as it hit him square in the chest.

“You’re going to regret that,” he said, his grin widening as he retaliated with a much larger splash.

Evangeline shrieked, laughing as she tried to shield herself from the spray. “Stop!” she cried, though her words were punctuated with giggles.

“Not a chance,” he called back, dodging her next attempt and kicking up another wave.

The fight escalated quickly, their laughter ringing out into the quiet night. Evangeline managed to land a few solid splashes in retaliation, sending water cascading over Sebastian’s shoulders and face. He grinned, his eyes alight with mischief, and waded further out, using the deeper water to his advantage as he sent another wave her way.

Evangeline shrieked as the cold water hit her square in the face. “Sebastian Sallow!” she yelled, trying to sound indignant, though her laughter betrayed her. “You are so dead!”

“Catch me if you can, Sterling!” he shot back, already swimming toward the shallows.

Without thinking, she followed. Her legs churned through the water as she tried to close the gap, but Sebastian was faster, his strides growing longer as he reached the shore and took off running along the sandy bank.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” she called after him, determination sparking in her chest as she splashed onto the shore and gave chase, her earlier self-consciousness forgotten in the heat of the moment.

The cool sand shifted beneath her feet as she sprinted after him, the night air whipping around her damp skin. Sebastian glanced back over his shoulder, his grin wide and triumphant even as he saw her gaining on him.

But then her foot caught on an uneven patch of sand, and her balance wavered. She let out a startled yelp as she stumbled forward, her arms flailing in an attempt to steady herself.

Sebastian turned just in time to see her slip, his instincts kicking in. In a heartbeat, he was there, catching her around the waist before she could hit the ground. The force of her momentum sent them both stumbling.

In the aftermath, Evangeline froze, her breath catching as she registered what had just happened. She was sprawled against Sebastian, their bodies tangled together on the sand. His arms were wrapped firmly around her, his grip warm and steady as if to shield her from the fall. Her hands, instinctively braced against his chest, registered every inch of lean muscle beneath her palms, slick from the water.

Her chest was pressed to his, her damp bra and doing little to disguise the softness of her. His legs bracketed hers, their bodies aligned in a way that left no room for misunderstanding. She could feel the heat radiating off him despite the cool night air, the firmness of his hands pressing into the plushness of her waist, grounding her.

They had been close before—hundreds, perhaps thousands of times—but there had always been layers between them. Layers of fabric, propriety, and unspoken boundaries neither had dared to cross. Those layers had always been a buffer, a safety net that kept them tethered to a careful kind of intimacy, one that teetered just shy of something deeper.

Now, though, every one of those layers was gone. The cool water dripped down her skin, and the air between them felt impossibly thin. Her head swam as her gaze flickered, unbidden, to the damp hair clinging to his forehead, dark tendrils framing the sharp angles of his face. Her eyes trailed lower, to the curve of his jaw, the faint shadow of stubble, and the way his lips parted slightly with each steady breath he took.

It was intoxicating, and for one fleeting moment, she allowed herself to linger in the feeling, to imagine what it might be like to let herself give in completely to the warmth of his touch and the intensity of his gaze.

But then, like a bucket of ice water, her insecurities surged to the forefront.

She was too much. Too vulnerable. Too exposed. And he could see everything. Feel everything. The softness of her body, usually hidden beneath structured corsets and flowing skirts, was now pressed against him with nothing to conceal it. Her curves, her imperfections, her vulnerability—it was all right there, melting into him. She could feel the press of her stomach against his abs, the way her thighs seemed to mold against his. Her stretch marks, her scars—everything she tried to ignore or downplay felt glaringly obvious.

Her thoughts spiraled in chaos, screaming at her to pull away, to create the distance that might save her from unraveling completely. But her body betrayed her, frozen in place, refusing to let go of the warmth and solidity of him beneath her.

Sebastian shifted slightly, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet, low and rough with something she couldn’t quite name. “Evie?”

“I—” she began, her voice faltering as she felt his thumbs brush against the curve of her waist, sending a jolt of warmth through her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It's fine,” he interrupted gently, his grip on her tightening just slightly, as if to steady her—or maybe himself. “I caught you, didn’t I?”

She let out a breathless laugh, but the sound felt hollow. “Yeah."

I should move. She knew she should. But she couldn’t. And she realized with a start, that he wasn't moving either.

Sebastian’s voice broke the silence again, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Was this part of your grand plan? Throwing yourself at me like this?”

Her cheeks flamed instantly, and the mortification snapped her out of her daze. “What? No!” she blurted, scrambling to push herself away from him, her hands bracing against his chest for leverage.

But as she moved, Sebastian’s grip reflexively reached for her hips to steady her—or at least that’s what she assumed he intended. The result, however, was nothing short of disastrous. Instead of breaking free, her movements shifted her forward, leaving her straddling his hips as her knees sank into the cool sand on either side of him.

Evangeline froze, her breath catching as the new position sent a shockwave of awareness through her — the warmth of his abdomen radiating through the damp fabric of her underwear, the firm grip of his hands still pressing into her sides. Her entire body felt exposed, laid bare in a way that made her chest tighten and her breath hitch. And the angle—Merlin, the angle—made it so much worse. He was beneath her, looking up with an unobstructed view of everything she tried so hard to hide.

Sebastian, meanwhile, let his head fall back into the sand, the cool grains pressing against his damp hair as he shut his eyes tightly, a soft, almost pained groan slipping past his lips.

He needed to ground himself. To stop his thoughts from spiraling into places he couldn’t afford to go right now. But it was impossible.

From the moment she’d landed on him, sprawled and warm and so real, he'd been done for. Sebastian was drowning in her, in the feel of her, the weight of her on top of him, the heat of her against him. His hands spanned her hips, plush beneath his fingers, the kind of softness he’d dreamed of countless times but never dared to hope he’d actually feel.

When he opened his eyes again, he was greeted with the sight of her above him, framed by the silvery glow of the moonlight. She looked ethereal, her damp hair clinging to her face and shoulders, a few dark strands curling against the curve of her neck. Her cheeks were flushed, whether from embarrassment or exertion he was unsure, and her hazel eyes were wide, darting between his own and his mouth as if she couldn’t decide where to look.

And then there was her body, her glorious body that left him breathless. Her thighs framed his hips, plush and firm in a way that sent heat pooling low in his stomach. The curve of her belly rested just above the waistband of her panties, soft and utterly mesmerizing. Instinctively, his thumbs brushed against the supple give of her hips. It was all he could do not to drag his fingers lower, to let himself explore the curves and dips that had haunted his thoughts for years.

And her chest—Merlin, her chest. The damp fabric of her bra clung to her like a second skin, the delicate lace barely containing her obnoxiously full breasts as they rose and fell with each shallow breath she took. Sebastian swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry, his fingers tightening to anchor himself to reality.

It was too much. The feel of her, the sight of her—he felt like he’d been pulled into one of his dreams, one of the countless fantasies he’d entertained over the years when he let himself imagine what it might be like to have her like this. But this wasn’t a dream. Evangeline was here, her body soft and real beneath his hands.

"...Sebastian?" The way she said his name, so quiet and full of uncertainty, nearly undid him.

Sebastian swallowed hard, his voice caught somewhere between a hum and a sigh as he tried to focus on her words instead of the overwhelming reality of her warmth against him.

“Hm?” he managed.

Evangeline’s brows furrowed slightly. “Are you… alright?” she asked, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

Was he alright? No. Absolutely not.

“I—” He hesitated, the words catching in his throat. He let out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head slightly as he forced himself to look at her. “Well, Evie, you’ve just tackled me into the sand. Do I look alright to you?”

Her lips parted in surprise, and for a moment, she stared at him, her expression torn between indignation and something softer—something vulnerable. “I didn’t tackle you,” she retorted, though her voice lacked its usual conviction.

“Oh, really?” he teased, his lips quirking into a faint smirk despite the tension coiling in his chest and low in his abdomen. “Because it feels a lot like you tackled me.”

Evangeline’s gaze darted away from his, her hazel eyes fixing somewhere over his shoulder as though the horizon suddenly demanded all of her attention.

Her lips parted, and for a moment, she looked as though she might say something sharp to counter his teasing. But instead, she ducked her head ever so slightly, her dark hair slipping forward to frame her face like a shield.

“Well, sorry. Just… um. Don’t look at me too closely, okay?”

Sebastian blinked, his brows furrowing as her words hit him. He felt the tension in her body, the way her shoulders seemed to curl inward as if she were trying to shrink away from him even while her weight remained firmly atop him. Despite the heat pooling low in his stomach, an ache bloomed in his chest at the quiet vulnerability in her voice.

She wasn’t just embarrassed. She was worried.

She was worried about him seeing her. She was worried about how he would see her—worried that what she thought about herself was what he might think too. And in that instant, something inside him irrevocably shifted.

In the past, Sebastian would’ve been horrified to admit the hold she had over him—the way she could unravel him with a single glance, a soft laugh, or the briefest brush of her hand against his. For years, he had fought to bury those feelings, to shove them deep into the corners of his heart where they couldn’t hurt either of them. He told himself it was for the best, that admitting how much he wanted her, how deeply she affected him, would only complicate things—ruin what they had, because he'd never be good enough for her.

So, he had kept it hidden. He turned his attraction into half-teasing quips and fleeting, stolen moments of closeness that he knew he could laugh off later. He flirted with other girls, chased fleeting distractions, anything to fill the void.

But now? Now, with her sitting atop him, her cheeks flushed and her body trembling with an uncertainty she couldn’t quite hide, every feeling he had fought so hard to suppress came crashing to the surface, relentless and impossible to ignore, demanding to be spoken.

Because this wasn’t just about his lust for her. It wasn’t just about wanting to touch her, to hold her, to watch her come undone by his hand. It was about how deeply it hurt him to see her doubt herself. To see her sit there, beautiful and radiant in the moonlight, and think for even a second that she wasn’t enough. That she wasn’t everything.

He knew admitting the truth was risky, he'd always known it. That's why he'd never done it. It could change everything between them, destroy the delicate balance they had maintained for so long, destroy this unspoken thing between them—the blurred line they had walked for months now, somewhere between friendship and something so much more.

But he couldn’t keep lying to himself, and he couldn’t keep lying to her. Not when he saw the way her insecurities gnawed at her, the way she tried to shrink away from him as if she could hide all the things she thought weren’t good enough—things he had long ago fallen irrevocably in love with.

He didn’t know what to say or how to say it. He had dreamed about this moment countless times, but now that it was here, every word he’d ever rehearsed in his head felt inadequate, clumsy. He knew he would stumble, that he probably wouldn’t say the right thing or make her feel the way she deserved. But fuck it. None of that mattered anymore.

Sebastian’s hands flexed against her hips as he let out a soft breath, trying to steady himself. “...Evangeline?”

She stiffened at the sound of her name, her hazel eyes reluctantly darting back to meet his. There was a mixture of hesitation and uncertainty in her gaze, and he could see her battling whatever thoughts were swirling in her head.

“...What?”

His own voice came out low and rough, strained with the effort of keeping himself in check. “If you back your ass up just a little,” he continued, the words deliberate, their weight unmistakable, “you’ll realize exactly what happens when I 'look closely'.”

Her eyes widened, her lips parting slightly as his words sank in. The air between them grew heavy, charged with a tension that neither of them could ignore. Sebastian held her gaze, his own unwavering. “I promise you,” he said softly, his tone laced with raw honesty, “my body isn’t exactly subtle about how it feels about you right now.”

For a long, breathless moment, she didn’t move. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breath catching audibly in her throat. Sebastian waited, his heart pounding in his chest, unsure of what she was going to do. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d pushed too far, if he’d crossed a line they couldn’t come back from.

But then, slowly, her hand lifted from his shoulder. Her movements were hesitant, trembling, as her fingers brushed lightly against the waistband of his underwear. A spark of heat shot through him at the simple contact, but nothing could have prepared him for what came next.

Her hand moved lower, her palm pressing against him, and the world tilted on its axis.

Sebastian's breath left him in a sharp, ragged gasp, every nerve ending lighting up as her warmth seeped through the thin fabric separating them. His grip on her hips tightened instinctively, his fingers curling into the soft flesh.

Evangeline’s hand froze there, her palm resting against the hard, unmistakable length of him, and her eyes widened in surprise, her breath coming faster as though she hadn’t actually believed him—hadn’t truly expected his arousal.

“Oh,” she murmured, the single syllable escaping her lips like a startled exhale.

“Oh?” Sebastian repeated, his voice breathless, almost incredulous. “Oh?”

Her cheeks turned a deep crimson, the color spreading down her neck, and her lips parted again, as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Her hand moved away, and Sebastian nearly groaned, the absence of her hand leaving him aching and desperate for more. He couldn’t help but laugh, though the sound was rough and uneven. “What did you expect?” he asked, his voice low and heavy with need. “I’ve been telling you for ages how beautiful you are. Did you think I was joking?”

Her blush deepened, and her fingers twitched as if she didn’t know what to do, whether to pull away entirely or press closer.

“I just…” she started, her voice faltering before she finally let the words out in a rush. “I didn’t think—well, I mean, it makes sense, doesn’t it? It would probably happen with… with any girl, right?”

Sebastian blinked at her, and for a moment, he simply stared, the disbelief washing over him like a wave. “Evangeline,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less intense, “you can’t seriously think that.”

She flinched slightly at the weight of his tone, and her gaze darted to the side, her fingers tightening on his shirt as though bracing herself. “Well, I… I didn’t think—”

“—You didn’t think you were my type,” he finished for her, his voice soft, laced with a quiet tenderness that balanced the exasperation flickering at the edges.

“I—well, whenever you said I was pretty, I just... I thought you were being nice,” she mumbled.

Sebastian didn’t know whether to laugh or groan. He shook his head. “Nice?” he echoed, his voice rough with disbelief and a hint of frustration. “Evie, you have no idea.”

He shifted beneath her, his body rising as he pushed himself upright, bringing them face to face. The sudden movement made Evangeline inhale sharply, her hands instinctively gripping his shoulders to steady herself as she remained perched in his lap. He didn’t give her time to pull away or retreat—his hands moved with deliberate care, sliding up from her hips to cup her face gently.

Her brows furrowed slightly, confusion flickering in her eyes. “What are you—”

“You don’t understand,” he interrupted, his voice low but steady, a quiet intensity in every word. “You have no idea how hard it’s been pretending. For years, Evie. Pretending I wasn’t completely attracted to you. Pretending I didn’t notice every little thing about you that drives me absolutely mad.”

She froze, her breath catching audibly, but Sebastian wasn’t done. He swallowed hard, his gaze unwavering as he continued. “Since fifth year, Evangeline. Since the day we met and you obliterated me in that duel,” His voice softened, his words carrying the weight of all the years he’d kept them buried. “You’ve no idea what it’s been like. Being so drawn to you, wanting you so badly, and forcing myself to act like it wasn��t there. Like nothing was happening.”

“And now?” he continued, his voice growing quieter but no less raw. “Now that we’ve been sharing a bed for months, do you know how torturous it’s been? Having you so close, knowing you’re right there, and pretending it doesn’t affect me? Pretending I don’t want you?” He let out a short, self-deprecating laugh. “And now, when you’re literally on top of me... How am I supposed to hide it, Evie? How am I supposed to pretend this doesn’t feel like I’ve slipped into one of my dreams?”

Her face flushed an even deeper shade of crimson, and her hands trembled slightly where they rested on him. “Sebastian...” she whispered, her voice fragile, but he pushed forward, determined to get it all out.

“I get it,” he said softly, his tone shifting into something more vulnerable, almost apologetic. “I understand if this is a lot for you. If it’s too much. And I’m so sorry if you feel like I’ve been deceiving you all this time. But I didn’t know how else to handle it—I didn’t want to ruin things between us. But I... I couldn't let you think for another second that you needed to hide from me. Let you think you weren't good enough."

“In all the flings I’ve had,” Sebastian pushed forward, his voice quieter now, raw and honest in a way that made his chest ache. “All those girls... I imagined you.” His dark eyes searched hers, desperate for her to understand. “It was always you, Evangeline. Not them. Not anyone else. Just you.”

Her expression softened, her wide eyes filling with something he couldn’t quite name—shock, maybe, or disbelief, or something more vulnerable. Her lips parted slightly, but she didn’t speak, her hands hovering now as though she didn’t know whether to hold onto him or pull away.

The silence stretched and Sebastian’s caught the unmistakable glimmer of tears in her eyes. Panic surged through him, sharp and relentless.

He’d said too much.

The thought gripped him, twisting in his chest. He had gone too far, laid bare feelings he had guarded for years, and now he was watching her unravel beneath the weight of his confession.

His pulse thundered in his ears. Why hadn’t he stopped? Why hadn’t he held back like he always had, like he was supposed to? This wasn’t how things were meant to go—this wasn’t how he’d imagined her reacting if he ever mustered the courage to tell her the truth. Maybe he’d overestimated her feelings, maybe this was too much for her, maybe—

Her hands, hesitant but warm, slowly rose to his face, fingers trembling as they brushed against his cheeks, as though testing if he was real.

Sebastian froze.

“Evangeline,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, rough with emotion. “I—”

“Stop,” she murmured, cutting him off. Her voice wavered, soft and unsure, but there was no anger in it, no rejection. If anything, she sounded... overwhelmed. “Just… stop for a second.”

He obeyed instantly, holding his breath as her hazel eyes darted across his face. “You’ve... thought about me?” she asked, her voice unsteady, almost disbelieving. Her fingers tightened slightly against his cheek. “Like... that?"

“Every day,” he admitted instantly, his voice hoarse. “Every bloody day, Evie. For years. And you—” He let out a shaky breath, his eyes never leaving hers. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted, and I’ve been too much of a coward to tell you because I couldn’t risk losing you.”

Evangeline certainly didn't miss the way he'd worded it, calling himself a coward. He could see it in the way her eyes searched his, darting across every line, every flicker of emotion that crossed his face, as though adding pieces to the puzzle she'd been trying to solve. And Sebastian held perfectly still, his breath shallow, his heart pounding so hard it drowned out the night around them.

Her brows drew together, a faint crease forming between them as confusion and disbelief flickered across her face. “Sebastian…” she began softly, her gaze dropping for a brief moment before lifting again to meet his. “How you feel… Is it just... a physical thing?”

Her words landed like a blow, and Sebastian’s heart clenched painfully, panic igniting in his chest like a wildfire. “No—” The word burst from him sharper than he’d intended, the urgency in his voice startling even himself. Her eyes widened slightly, and he immediately winced, his tone softening as he leaned closer. “No. It’s not just that. It’s not even close to just that.”

Sebastian swallowed hard, his chest tightening as he fought to untangle the mess of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. His dark eyes locked onto hers, pleading silently, desperately, for her to understand. “Do I think you’re beautiful? Merlin, yes. You’re stunning, Evie. You drive me absolutely mad, and you have for years. But it’s so much more than that.” His voice cracked slightly, and he leaned closer, his hands cupping her face in return as if afraid she might slip away.

“It’s you,” he said, his words trembling with the weight of everything he’d kept bottled up. “You’re everything. Everything I never knew I needed until we met. Everything I’ve been too afraid to want. And it’s not just about how you look, or how much I want you—though Merlin knows I do.” He exhaled shakily, his gaze never leaving hers. “It’s about you. All of you.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Heavy. Crushing. It stretched between them, every second of her quiet pulling him further into the churning void of fear. His heart thundered in his chest, the sound almost deafening in his ears, and though his hands stayed steady against her cheeks, his mind was unraveling.

Why wasn’t she saying anything? Had he said too much?

When he couldn’t bear the silence any longer, his voice broke through it, raw and pleading. “Evie,” he whispered, his throat tightening around the name. “Please. Say something.”

Her breath hitched audibly, and she let out a shaky exhale before covering her mouth with one hand, her eyes darting away from his.

Sebastian’s stomach plummeted. Dread sank its claws into him, dragging him down into a pit of despair deeper than anything he’d ever known.

She’s upset. She’s hurt. I’ve ruined everything.

“I—” he started. “I didn’t mean to—”

Evangeline let out a shaky breath. “You—” Her voice wavered, muffled by her hand as she turned back toward him. Her eyes shimmered, not with rejection or anger, but with something else entirely. “You absolute idiot.”

Sebastian blinked, stunned. “What?”

Her hand dropped from her mouth, and she let out another incredulous, watery laugh, her chest heaving as she tried to collect herself. “You’re daft, Sebastian Sallow. Completely, utterly daft.”

“I—what?” He stared at her, his confusion mounting. This wasn’t what he had expected. Not even close.

Evangeline shook her head, her laughter breaking into a soft, almost broken sob, her expression an aching blend of joy and frustration. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “For you to say these things? To finally hear what I’ve been hoping for?”

Sebastian stared at her, his mouth slightly open, completely unprepared for the torrent of words that followed.

“Years, Sebastian,” she continued, her voice cracking on the word as her emotions poured out, raw and unfiltered. “Years. I thought—I convinced myself—you’d never feel the same way. But then… then after the Prefect’s Bathroom, after the Equinox Ball…” She paused, her hazel eyes shimmering with unshed tears, her voice barely holding steady. “I let myself hope. I thought maybe… maybe there was a chance.”

Her breath hitched as she tried to steady herself, shaking her head as if fighting back against the weight of it all. “And all summer, I hoped that you’d say something, that you’d give me a sign.”

Her hands trembled as they cradled his face, her touch warm despite the cool edge of her desperation. “But you didn’t,” she whispered, her voice cracking again. “You never did, and the silence... well, I started doubting everything again, doubting us. It felt like… like I’d been foolish to hope at all.”

She let out a shaky laugh, her expression twisting with a mix of relief and pain. “That’s why I said yes to New Zealand. Because I thought… I thought this moment would never come. That I’d spend my whole life waiting for something that was never going to happen.”

Sebastian’s heart stuttered in his chest, her words crashing over him. For a moment, all he could do was stare at her, his breath caught somewhere between his lungs and his throat. Shock and relief warred within him, tangling with a sharp pang of guilt that twisted in his stomach.

“You’re serious?” he managed finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

Evangeline gave him a watery smile, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Merlin, yes, you idiot. I’m serious.”

Sebastian swallowed hard, shaking his head as the weight of her words crashed over him. "Evie..." he began, his voice hoarse and unsteady. Guilt clawed at his chest, raw and unrelenting. How had he been so blind? How had he let her believe, even for a moment, that there was no future here? No future with him? The thought that she had accepted New Zealand because she thought she had no other choice made his heart ache in ways he hadn’t thought possible.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, the words spilling out with desperate urgency, his hands instinctively reaching for hers. His grip was firm but careful, his fingers curling gently around hers as though trying to hold her together—or maybe himself. “Evie, I’m so sorry. For making you wait. For not saying something sooner. For letting you think I didn’t—” His voice cracked, his throat tightening painfully as he searched for the words, his dark eyes locked onto hers with a kind of raw intensity.

“For letting you doubt, even for a second, how much I feel for you,” he continued, his voice trembling. “You’re right—I’m an idiot. I’ve been an idiot for years. But I—”

And then she leaned in.

Her lips were soft against his, warm and urgent, like she’d been holding herself back for far too long and couldn’t bear another second of restraint. The moment their mouths met, Sebastian’s usually sharp mind went scattering, his thoughts fracturing like glass under the weight of this impossible, beautiful reality. She was kissing him—Evangeline was kissing him.

The fantasies he’d conjured in stolen moments—before sleep, during quiet spells when he let himself hope—were pale, fragile things compared to this. His imaginings had never been able to capture the way her lips moved against his, how soft and inviting they were, or the way she tasted, faintly of lake water, a whisper of salt from her tears, and something so distinctly her that he knew he’d crave it for the rest of his life. Nothing had prepared him for the feel of her body against his, warm and yielding, her curves fitting against him so perfectly it made his heart stutter.

His fingers slid into her hair, threading through the damp strands as he gently tilted her head. His lips found hers with a tenderness that felt almost sacred, parting them with a care that spoke of quiet devotion. She met him with equal fervor, her lips moving against his in a rhythm that felt like a rediscovered melody—unfamiliar, yet instinctively known, like a song he’d been waiting his entire life to hear. The world around them melted away, the lake, the trees, the cool whisper of the night air all fading into insignificance. There was only her. Only this. Only them.

When they finally broke apart, it was only because their lungs demanded it. Their foreheads came to rest against each other, their breaths mingling in soft, uneven gasps. Sebastian’s eyes fluttered open, his gaze locking onto hers.

Her hazel eyes were wide, the moonlight catching on the unshed tears that lingered there. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen and slightly parted, and the sight of her—so close, so vulnerable, so achingly real—took his breath away all over again. She looked beautiful, painfully, heartbreakingly beautiful, and he couldn’t stop himself.

"I'm in love with you, Evangeline." he whispered, his voice rough and uneven. "I always have been."

She let out a soft, breathless laugh, her lips curving into the faintest smile as her fingers lightly traced the line of his jaw. "I'm in love with you too."

Sebastian let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his heart hammering against his ribcage as her words settled over him. It was almost too much to process, and yet it wasn’t enough—

“Say it again,” he murmured, his voice low, almost pleading.

Evangeline’s smile widened slightly, her hazel eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and tenderness. “I’m in love with you, Sebastian Sallow,” she repeated, her voice firmer now, more certain. “Utterly, hopelessly in love with you.”

A low laugh, more like a sigh of relief, escaped his lips, willing the air between them with something soft, something that felt impossibly fragile and yet unshakably certain.

“I don’t deserve you,” he admitted quietly, his voice raw. “Not after everything I’ve put you through. But Evangeline, I’m not letting you go. Not now. Not ever.”

Her hands moved to his wrists, her fingers curling lightly around them as she leaned into his touch. “You don’t get to decide what you deserve, Sebastian,” she said softly, though there was steel beneath her words. “That’s for me to decide. And I’ve already decided I’m yours. If you’ll have me.”

“If I’ll have you?” he repeated, his lips quirking into a faint smile as he tilted her chin up slightly, his dark eyes searching hers. “Evie, I’ve been yours since the moment I met you.”

A soft laugh bubbled from her lips, the sound light and full of something that felt achingly like relief. Before he could say anything else, before he could even begin to process the sheer joy of hearing her laugh like that, she kissed him again, softer, slower, as though they finally had all the time in the world.

She fit so perfectly against him, her body pressing into his like it had always belonged there. Every sigh, every shift of her weight, sent warmth coursing through him, settling low in his abdomen and making him ache with need. He couldn’t think, couldn’t form a single coherent thought beyond her.

And when they finally broke apart again, Sebastian pressed a kiss to her temple, lingering there as he whispered, “Stay.”

Her breath hitched, and she pulled back just enough to look at him. “Stay?” she echoed.

“Here. With me. Don’t go to New Zealand,” he said, his voice steadier now, his hands tightening gently on her waist. “We’ll figure it out. Whatever the Muldoons throw at us, whatever comes next—we’ll face it together. Just... stay, Evangeline. Please."

Her gaze searched his, the uncertainty flickering in her eyes softening into something calmer, something resolute. She nodded, her hands brushing against his jaw again as she whispered, “Okay.”

Sebastian’s chest swelled. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against him as if to make sure she was truly there, truly his. The lake shimmered in the moonlight beside them, but all Sebastian could see, all he could feel, was her.

FINALLY IT HAPPENED. FINALLY. TIME TO CELEBRATE. THEY DID IT. THEY STOPPED BEING SO STUPID.

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writingsoftarnishedsilver · 6 days ago

Text

Midnight | Sebastian Sallow x OC #56

Summary: Sebastian confronts Evangeline in the middle of the night after overhearing rumors that she might accept Joseph Carling's proposal, his emotions spilling over in a whirlwind of jealousy, fear, and desperation.

Words: ~2,900

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Pureblood Politics, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Mutual Pining, Longing, Unspoken Feelings, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Drama, Idiots in Love

Timeline: Mid August

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

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Sebastian’s knuckles rapped against the wooden door, the sound sharp and relentless in the quiet of the night. His breath came in short, uneven bursts, his chest heaving as though he’d run all the way to her flat. In truth, he might as well have. The hurried Apparition had left him disoriented, the adrenaline pounding in his veins refusing to abate as he stood there, his hand clenched into a fist against the wood. All he could focus on was the door—the thin barrier between him and Evangeline—and the searing knot of emotions that had driven him here.

Jealousy. Heartbreak. Fear.

He’d stormed out of the soirée, his thoughts consumed by the possibility that she might have already chosen Carling. The rational part of him—the part that sounded far too much like Ominis—had tried to temper him, to remind him that the rumors might be baseless, that barging into her flat in the dead of night wouldn't help anything.

But rationality had never been Sebastian’s strong suit, especially not when it came to her.

His fist collided with the door again, harder this time, his voice hoarse as he called out, “Evangeline, open the door!”

Nothing.

His jaw clenched, frustration and desperation building with every second. He knocked again, refusing to relent. “I know you’re in there!”

The lock clicked.

The door opened just enough to reveal her standing in the dim glow of the hallway, her figure framed by the soft fabric of her housecoat. Her hair was loose, cascading over her shoulders, and the flush in her cheeks wasn’t from the night’s festivities but from wiping away her makeup, much of which still clung around her eyes.

“Sebastian?” Her voice was soft, laced with confusion. “What are you doing here? It’s—” she glanced over her shoulder at the clock in her flat, “—past midnight.”

“I don’t care what time it is.” His voice was rough, his eyes scanning her face, searching for something that would ease the storm inside him. “We need to talk.”

Evangeline sighed, leaning against the doorframe. “This couldn’t wait until morning?”

“No,” he said, the word clipped and final. He stepped closer, one hand bracing against the doorframe. “I need to know, Evie. Is it true?”

Her brows furrowed, her hazel eyes narrowing. “Is what true?”

“Carling,” he spat the name like it was poison. “Are you—” His throat worked against the words, but they forced their way out. “Are you considering his proposal?”

Evangeline blinked, her lips parting slightly as surprise flashed across her face. But before she could respond, Sebastian barreled inside the flat, his voice rising with the tide of his emotions.

“Because if you are—if you’re really planning on choosing him—I need to know. I can’t keep doing this, Evie. I can’t keep—” His voice broke, and he looked away, his chest heaving. “I need to hear it from you.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. Evangeline stared at him, her expression unreadable, her fingers tightening slightly on the edge of the door. “Sebastian… what... where is this coming from?”

“Where do you think?” He looked at her again, his brown eyes dark and stormy. “I heard them, Evie. Greengrass and her little circle of gossips. They said you’re on the verge of accepting Carling’s proposal. Is that true? Is that what you’re thinking?”

Evangeline slowly pushed the door closed, her expression softening. “Sebastian, you’re not making any sense.”

“I’m not making sense?” He gave a short, humorless laugh. “For weeks, even after spending every damn night with me, you're keeping me at arm’s length in public, all while the Prophet drags me through the mud and paints me as some reckless, unworthy fool. And then tonight—tonight you’re standing there with him, laughing at whatever nonsense he’s spouting, while they’re whispering about his proposal like it’s a foregone conclusion! What am I supposed to think, Evangeline?"

Sebastian stepped closer, the intensity in his gaze burning through her like wildfire. He reached for her, his hands gripping her shoulders as though she might disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

“You can’t,” he continued, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “Evangeline, you can’t marry a prick like him. Merlin, he nearly killed you during Quidditch! How could you even consider it? He’s pompous, selfish, and everything you’re not.”

“Sebastian—”

“And the pure-blood nonsense!” he continued, his grip tightening slightly. “You haven’t fallen for that, have you? You’re too smart for that. Too good for that.” His words tumbled out in a rush, like he couldn’t stop them, like he had to convince her before it was too late. “You don’t need them. You don’t need him. Don’t let them—don’t let him—take you away.”

“Sebastian—” she tried again, her voice firmer now, but he pressed on, his desperation bleeding into every syllable.

“I know the Muldoons are watching you, I know they’ve been pressuring you by influencing the Prophet, but you don’t have to do this,” he pleaded, his voice raw. “It doesn't matter what the Prophet writes or what the Muldoon's threaten, for fuck's sake Evangeline, I’ll ruin my reputation myself if it means keeping you—”

“Sebastian!” Her voice broke through the torrent of his words, startling him into silence. She raised her hands, gently prying his fingers away from her shoulders. “Stop.”

He froze, his breath ragged, his heart hammering in his chest. She stepped back just enough to create space between them, her hazel eyes searching his face. Her expression was somewhere between exasperated and heartbroken, and it made his stomach twist painfully.

“Do you honestly think I would ever consider marrying Joseph Carling?” she asked softly. “That I would even entertain the idea of spending my life with someone like him?”

Sebastian’s lips parted, but no words came out. The storm inside him faltered, confusion creeping in to replace his frantic desperation.

“Sebastian, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I haven’t accepted anything. I haven’t considered anything,” she said, her voice trembling just slightly at the edges.

“I—I just thought… you were distant all night, you wouldn’t even look at me, and then I heard them—”

Evangeline’s expression softened, her brows knitting together as she stepped closer. “I have no idea what Lady Greengrass or anyone else said,” she murmured, her hands coming up to cradle his face, forcing him to meet her eyes. “But I promise you, they don’t know what they’re talking about.”

His breath hitched, his hands coming up to lightly grasp her wrists. "Then why did you storm out? What were you talking about with that man before you left? I saw you leave and I thought—"

Evangeline sighed, her thumbs brushing softly against his cheekbones as she held his face. “I would never… Merlin, you have it all wrong.”

“Then why?” he pressed, his voice low and strained. “Why did you storm out? What were you talking about with him?"

She shook her head, cutting him off. “I was angry, Sebastian. He was talking about you,” she admitted, her voice soft but sharp with indignation. “Mocking you, your past, the Prophet articles—everything they’ve written about you.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a hard line. “What exactly did he say?”

Evangeline hesitated, clearly not wanting to repeat what he'd said.

“He acted as though he was doing me a favor,” she began, her voice trembling slightly but growing steadier with each word. “He said he had some ‘inside knowledge’ he thought I ought to hear. Like it was some sort of gift.”

Sebastian’s grip on her wrists tightened, his chest rising and falling with barely restrained fury. “What knowledge?”

Her thumbs continued their soft, soothing motions along his cheekbones, but her own anger was palpable. “He brought up your uncle,” she admitted, her voice dropping. “About why Solomon left the Ministry. He said…” She hesitated, her throat tightening before she forced herself to continue. “He said Solomon used an Unforgivable, that it caused some scandal. As if I didn't already know.”

Sebastian’s face darkened, his jaw clenching. “Of course,” he muttered bitterly, his voice thick with anger and shame. “But that’s not the full story, and they damn well know it.”

Evangeline nodded, her hazel eyes blazing with indignation. “I told him as much. I told him it was disgusting to use your past, your family’s struggles, as a way to justify his own nonsense.”

Sebastian stilled, his gaze narrowing. “His own nonsense?”

She sighed, shaking her head. “After tearing you down, he had the audacity to suggest that he was only trying to protect me. That he wanted me to know the ‘truth’ before I got too… entangled. And then—” Her voice cracked with anger, and she pulled back slightly, releasing his face. “Then he had the gall to offer his own courtship, as though I should be grateful for his ‘protection.’”

Sebastian’s expression hardened, his grip on her wrists loosening but his body vibrating with barely contained rage. “He didn’t.”

“Oh, he did,” Evangeline said, her voice cutting. “And I told him exactly what I thought of him. I told him he was arrogant, presumptuous, and that he clearly didn’t know me at all if he thought I’d entertain his offer for even a moment.”

A faint, humorless smile tugged at the corner of Sebastian’s mouth, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I would have paid to see his face.”

Evangeline crossed her arms, her anger still simmering. “He didn’t take it well, if you’re wondering.” Her voice softened then, her gaze meeting his. “But I left because I didn’t want to stay in that room a second longer. I couldn’t—”

Sebastian’s brows furrowed, his expression shifting to confusion. “Then why?” he asked, cutting her off mid-sentence. “If you’re willing to do that for me—stand up to him, defend me like that—why do you still keep your distance at these events? Why... why won’t you even look at me when we’re out there?”

Evangeline’s closed her eyes briefly, as if bracing herself, before looking at him again. “Sebastian, you know why. I’m trying to protect us!"

"But—"

Her tone hardened. "For Merlin's sake, Sebastian. There’s a reason my parents died in that fire."

Sebastian’s entire body went still. “What?"

Evangeline swallowed hard. "When I was a baby. The fire that killed my parents. It wasn’t an accident,” she said softly. “The Muldoons killed them.”

Sebastian shook his head, his jaw clenching. “You don’t know that for certain.”

“I do. Because it’s the truth,” she countered, her voice breaking. “It’s not a coincidence. My mother defied them, and they made sure she paid for it... And now they’re watching me. Watching us!"

“You think they’d—?”

“Yes,” she said firmly, cutting him off. “They’ve already proven they’re willing to destroy anyone who steps out of line. They have power, Sebastian. Connections. If they decide I’m a problem, or you’re a problem, they won’t just hurt us.”

Sebastian shook his head, the motion slow and deliberate, as though shaking off her words before they could take root. His jaw tightened, the muscle ticking as he inhaled sharply through his nose.

“This again? I thought we were through this. I know you’re scared,” he interjected, his tone low but steady. “That they’ll hurt you. Or me—”

“—They don’t just hurt people, Sebastian. They destroy them. I couldn’t—”

“—They won’t touch you.” His voice cut through hers, hard and unyielding, the finality in his words stopping her short. “Do you hear me, Evangeline? They won’t lay a finger on you.”

She stared at him, her heart pounding as his conviction washed over her. “You don’t know that,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You can’t promise—”

“I can.” He stepped closer. “I would never let anyone hurt you. Ever. If they came for you, I’d—” He broke off, swallowing hard before he continued, his voice raw with emotion. “Merlin, I’d risk Azkaban a second time if I had to.”

“Sebastian…”

He shook his head, his grip firm but not harsh as he leaned closer, his eyes locking with hers. “You’re not alone in this, Evie. You never were, and you never will be. They don’t get to control you. They don’t get to decide your life, and they sure as hell don’t get to take you from me.”

“And what if they come after you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “What if they hurt you because of me?”

His expression softened then, a faint, rueful smile tugging at his lips. “Let them try,” he said simply.

“Sebastian…” Her voice wavered, her hands trembling at her sides.

He reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, his touch achingly gentle. “I mean it,” he said softly. “I’ve already lost too much in my life, Evie. I’m not losing you, too. Not to them. Not to anyone.”

Evangeline’s throat worked as if she wanted to say something, but no words came. Her eyes glistened, shimmering with unshed tears, and she looked at him like he was the only thing tethering her to the ground. After a long, weighted beat, she gave a single, trembling nod.

Sebastian didn’t hesitate.

He pulled her into him, his arms wrapping around her tightly, like he could shield her from the world if he just held on hard enough. Her smaller frame melted against his chest, her face pressed into the crook of his neck. Finally, he could breathe again. The crushing weight on his chest lifted, replaced by the warmth of her in his arms.

His hand slid up to cradle the back of her head, his fingers threading gently through her hair. He closed his eyes, his forehead resting against her temple as he exhaled shakily. “Merlin, Evie,” he whispered, his voice raw. “I was so terrified.”

Her arms wrapped around him, clutching the fabric of his shirt as if afraid he might slip away. She didn’t speak, but he felt the way her breathing hitched, the way her fingers curled tighter against him.

“I heard them,” he continued, his words tumbling out like a confession. “I heard those women saying you were going to accept Carling’s proposal, and I—” He broke off, swallowing hard as he tightened his hold on her.

She shook her head. "I would never."

Sebastian pressed his face into the top of Evangeline’s head, breathing her in, the faint scent of bergamot and honey and something uniquely hers grounding him. He exhaled a shaky breath, his lips quirking into a faint, self-deprecating smile.

“I suppose this is what I get for believing gossip,” he muttered, the words muffled against her hair. “Should’ve known better.”

Evangeline let out a soft laugh, the sound muffled but warm against his chest. “You really should have."

Sebastian pulled back just enough to look at her, his hands still loosely wrapped around her waist. His gaze softened as he took her in, his eyes tracing her features like they were the answer to every question he’d ever asked. But then his lips twitched, his smirk returning as his thumb brushed against her cheekbone, smudging a streak of mascara.

“Did you know I was coming? Were you putting on battle paint for this’?” he teased, tilting his head slightly.

Evangeline blinked, momentarily confused before realization dawned. Her hands flew up to her face, her fingers brushing against the smudged remnants of her makeup. “Oh, Merlin,” she groaned, half-laughing, half-mortified. “I must look awful."

“Awful?” Sebastian’s tone was incredulous, his smirk softening into something warmer. “Evie, you could be covered in soot and still look better than anyone else in the room. Trust me.”

Evangeline didn’t respond. Instead, she reached for his hand, her touch firm but gentle, and began leading him through her flat. Sebastian blinked, momentarily caught off guard, but followed without protest, his larger hand enveloping hers.

She brought him to the bathroom and wordlessly, she guided him to sit on the edge of the bathtub. He obeyed, the tension easing completely as he watched her move about.

Evangeline grabbed a washcloth, dampening it under the tap before leaning towards the mirror. Her robe, a soft, silky thing that shimmered faintly in the light, clung loosely to her frame, accentuating her curves in a way that made his pulse stutter. Her hair was a mess, cascading in wild waves down her back, and her makeup was smudged, faint streaks of mascara darkening the skin beneath her hazel eyes. She looked tired, exhausted, and nothing like the polished image she presented at the soirée. And yet, to Sebastian, she’d never looked more beautiful.

She caught him staring as she wiped at her cheeks, dabbing away the smudged remnants of her makeup. “What?”

Sebastian shrugged, leaning back slightly against the tiled wall. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

“Dangerous,” she teased lightly, wringing out the cloth and moving to clean the other side of her face.

He chuckled, his smirk softening into something warmer. His gaze followed her movements, lingering on the way she twisted her wrist, the slight furrow in her brow as she focused on her task. Everything about her was so achingly familiar, so utterly her, that he felt a sharp pang of something—something equal parts relief and longing—and he realized with a start what it was. He felt whole again.

For the first time in weeks—months, maybe—he wasn’t chasing after something he couldn’t reach. She was right here, in front of him, smudged makeup and messy hair and all. And there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

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