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starsofang · 3 months

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CALL OF THE SEA / PART THREE

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, mentions of violence, blood, injury, 141 are still mean pirates, very brief mentions of death masterlist

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

The words of Captain Price weighed heavily on your mind. With little distractions to guide you away from them, they were all you were left with. They replayed on a consistent loop, like a broken record player. It was taunting, the way your own mind betrayed you after pleading with it not to think of the cold dose of reality the Captain had given you. It denied your requests for soothing calm and gifted you with roaring waves of chaos.

The Captain had been right. Every last word was coated in nothing but bitter truth, and you hated it.

Your village was nothing but unkind to you, and you knew it. You tried to defend them, tried to reason with why they could have been so cruel to you, but with only yourself and the sounds of the sea to fill the abyss in your head, your defense was bound to crumble.

It wasn’t your fault you were different, at least compared to the traditionalists you grew with. Being born in a secluded hamlet separated from the bustling mainland meant the people were just as isolated. Hermits, they were. They sought simplicity through actions shown by the book. Marriage, children, with women to remain in their place at home. It was a dream to some, and a nightmare to you.

You wanted more. There was a vast world out there for you to mark your claim on, yet your own people disregarded your desires. They turned on you, taunting you as the village outcast, one that many continued to torment well into adulthood. You were one against many, and you only had yourself in the long run.

You worked hard for what you had. Despite the consistent abuse your people had given you, you sought out adventure like a moth to a flame. It called out to you. Learning of medicines and practices to become more of the miniscule woman everybody saw you as was your safe haven. You wanted to explore the world and take your practices to a place where you’d be accepted as one’s own.

Then those pirates had taken that away from you. Not only had they stolen your dreams, but they had stolen your home, people, and passion. Everything was lost at the drop of a hat.

Being a medic for a scroungy group of thieving pirates was not in your cards. Before, you hadn’t even known pirates were existent. They were a simple folk tale, something to share on quiet nights when the village had grown bored. Never did you think you would come across one, let alone four who had taken it upon themselves to make you their problem.

You feared that you would never achieve your dreams of being a proper medic. Of never escaping to the mainland where you could begin a tranquil life consisting of you and your studies. Now, it seemed that you would never experience peace or independence. Your dreams were embezzled, lost in the foamy waves that lapped against the side of the ship.

The grieving of your loss didn’t stop, even during Soap and Gaz’s visits. They kept it minimal, presumably under the Captain’s orders, or because they simply didn’t like you enough to further interaction. Not that you wanted them to, anyway, though it would’ve made the aching loneliness a bit more bearable.

They noticed, of course. The way your eyes began to sink in, casting a grim shadow across your face, or the way you no longer bared your teeth at them when they approached. Pirates like them didn’t care for people like you. You were a pawn in whatever game they were playing, and you didn’t know the rules.

The sound of heavy footsteps on the deck above you rattled you awake. The cot was fairly useless in providing you comfort, but you had succumbed to your eventual exhaustion over the course of your capture that you had grown used to it.

Unlike normal days, where their steps were more quiet and calculated, this time sounded like a frenzy. Uncoordinated, merging together in loud pitter patter. It was unsettling, lighting an icy chill in your bones. Even in the seclusion of the brig, the air felt thick with tension, as if the pirate’s suspense had crept through the crack under the door and spread throughout the ship.

The floorboards creaked menacingly from above. Your ears pricked at every stomp, every slam of the soles of their thick boots against the old wood. It was as if death was stalking you from the shadows, creeping in, jeering at you. You were in the dark, unaware.

You wondered if other pirates had invaded the ship. Perhaps this was your end. You’d be found by enemies and treated much more unkindly in the hands of men who only saw you as a mere woman and not the potential to be a medic.

Though your pirates were just as cruel, they hadn’t harmed you. They hurt your people, but salvaged you to make use of your knowledge. They weren’t as terrible as what may have lurked the waters. Maybe it was simply the fear talking, but if what you thought was true, then you prayed to whatever god was listening that you remain in the safe hands that had yet to pose a threat to you.

Your prayers were answered by the harsh sound of the door opening. It wrenched open, slamming up against the wall with a crack. Dim light poured through, down to your cell, illuminating a faint glow enough for you to see.

Atop the stairs, a large figure lurked, blocking out the light. It cocooned around him, casting an eerie shadow and successfully masking away his face.

Fear shot through your veins, burning like a raging fire, lighting you up from the inside. It threatened to combust, inching you towards a scorching agony. It clouded your mind, fogging over the logic and replacing it with racing thoughts of choking terror. You thought of death, torture, being swept away from this brig, only to be placed in a more torturous one with strangers out to harm you. To be used for pleasure and entertainment by a group of savage pirates unbeknownst to you.

“Get up,” a voice barked at you. It was rough and throaty, exuding pure authority. It was also familiar.

The sound of metal clanking on metal filled your eyes and once you had pieced together your mind enough, you realized it was the key unlocking your cell. The door opened, the figure stepping into your cell and closer to you, where you lay on the cot. It loomed over you, shielding you away from escape.

“Get up,” he ordered again. A hand reached out to you, cold, rough fingers wrapping around your bicep and lugging you off of the cot and on to your feet. There was no time for arguments. You recognized Ghost’s stony mask, and you knew fighting him would prove fruitless.

“What’s going on?” you asked, legs straining to keep up with his pace as he tugged you up the rickety stairs.

“Captain’s hurt,” Ghost gruffed, only the narrow of his eyes peeking through the eye holes of the skull mask, giving you a glimpse of his disgruntlement. “Need a medic. That’s you, birdie.”

Your heart sank to your stomach for numerous reasons.

For one, the smallest part of you worried for the Captain. No matter his actions thus far, he was hurt and required medical attention, enough of it that Ghost had prompted you out of your cell after residing there for the past month.

Then there was the fact that they were asking you for help. Sure, you technically were a medic. One in practice, but you knew the basics of medicines. However, the problem arose that you didn’t know much beyond that. If the Captain truly was injured to an extent beyond your skill, you feared they’d throw you over the ship and into the murky waters once they deemed you useless.

The misty air hit you the moment you stepped out of the brig and on to the upper deck. It was chilly despite it being summer, with the ocean breeze curling into your dingy hair and across your cheeks. The feeling was nothing short of relieving, to breathe in fresh air that filled your lungs, clearing them of the musty tang of brig air.

It was still midnight, but the moon was bright enough to have your eyes squinting, adjusting. Even the feel of it on your skin was like sweet kisses after a period of solitude.

That wasn’t what was important, though. Ghost had your arm in a chokehold, and he was urgently dragging you across the deck and towards the front of the ship. None of the other men were found, but you’d quickly find them when Ghost yanked open a door leading to the Captain’s quarters.

Inside, Captain Price was propped up lazily against the side of a large table, covered in maps and quills. A small pot of ink had been tipped over and spilled, tainting the papers with splotchy black. Drips of his blood had swirled into the mix, and the sight of it made you sick.

Price’s hand was smothering a gnarly gash on his side, fingers seeping over with crimson blood. Soap stood beside him with Gaz, the two of them seemingly anticipating your arrival. The moment they locked eyes with you, they stood up straight, expressions impatient.

“Took ye long enough, Ghost,” Soap boasted snarkily. Ghost huffed from beside you, pushing you by your arm and sending you towards Price.

“Fix him up,” Ghost commanded, stern. You blinked at him before switching to look at the Captain.

Price was a bit paled, skin clammy with sweat despite the chill in the air. He seemed more annoyed than pained, face pulled taut with a frown deepened beneath his beard. His eyes bore into yours threateningly.

“I don’t—“ you stared, stumbling over your words. “I don’t know how to stitch, I told you, I’m not a professional—“

“Surely you’ve had practice once or twice, haven’t you?” Price reckoned, cocking his head at you.

“Only on injured animals,” you defended. “I don’t know how to stitch on people.”

Price clicked his tongue, a hint of agitation gesred behind it. “Can’t be much different. Allow me to be your experiment, dove. You want to be a professional? Figure it out.”

You stared at him, bewildered. You knew there was no room for argument, nor was there any time. He was bleeding into the palm of his hand, wound sliced open from what you assumed was a sharp blade. You didn’t have the chance to think about how he possibly could’ve been injured in that way.

“Well? Go on, dove, it ain’t goin’ to heal itself,” Soap urged in annoyance, giving a light shove to your shoulder. Not enough to move you from your position, but enough to snap you into order.

“I need my supplies,” you explained. “Surely, you kept them.”

“Tch. Not stupid, dove,” Price snipped. With his free hand, he clumsily fumbled for one of the drawers of the table he leaned upon. Yanking it open, it was sent to the floor with a crash, sending its contents scattering.

The action was savvy and if you weren’t in a frenzied rush, you would’ve had the mind to be irritated. However, you remembered your place, as well as the people you were being forced to serve. It wouldn’t be wise to bark back at them for throwing around your work so carelessly.

You were quick to drop to the floor and begin retrieving what was necessary. Supplies were scarce, seeing as you weren’t fortunate enough to grow up on the mainland where demand was much more accessible.

Making a mental note to ask for them to collect more items for you, that is if this was really going to be your life, you clattered the items on the table Price rested on, making quick work of tugging stitching thread through the tiny needle.

The job would be sloppy, especially with the way your hands shook. You knew good and well that if anything were to happen to these pirate’s Captain, you’d be first one off the ship, sent to God knows where.

All eyes were on you. It was unnerving.

Soap remained next to Gaz, both watching you like a hawk. Their eyes studied every movement of your fingers as they worked through the threads, preparing to stitch up Price as requested.

Ghost stood near the door leading to the deck, arms crossed and eyes piercing into you like a warning threat. And really, you knew that’s what it was.

Price was awfully calm for a man who’d been stabbed, and you briefly wondered if this was something pirates were used to. Harming others was one thing. Gaining injury themselves was another.

Lucky for you, the Captain wasn’t wearing any fabrics. He must’ve taken his shirt off when he returned to his quarters, which made things easier for you.

“Remove your hand,” you said, before adding on, “please.”

Price huffed out what could’ve been mistaken as a laugh, though you highly doubted it. He carefully pulled his hand away from his wound, slippery with blood. The sight was quite gruesome, though you were sure it was just the blood making it so.

Taking a deep breath, you positioned yourself in front of the Captain. You dug deep in your memory of the times you’d operated on helpless animals you’d found in the outskirts of your village.

Animals were easier. They were more pliant and obedient. Some were squirmy, though being much smaller than you gave you advantage over them.

Price, though, was significantly bigger. And human. He was far from any animal you aided.

With his arm out of the way, you had a showcase of numerous scars scattering his torso. They were white, indicating they were much older, but some were still risen with pink tissue that revealed being more recent.

You had your hands full. Truly.

“I’m going to begin now,” you told Price.

“Don’t need to narrate the whole operation to me, medic. Just do it.”

Price’s tone was sarcastic and a tad bit mean. If he was aiming to offend you, he was doing a poor job. You’d taken ridicule all your life.

Brushing it off, you used nimble hands to make the first insertion of the needle, threading through the first stitch. Price showed no discomfort, though the eyes of the others didn’t help your unease. You felt like a lab rat and they were the ones operating on you.

The stitching became easier the more it went on. He needed quite a few, though the practice was appreciated. Your hands became more steady and your heart was no longer in your throat.

The room was at a standstill up until the very moment you tightened the stitches, tying them off and pulling yourself away from Price. Your work was far from perfect, but it was doable.

“Finished, are you?” Price hummed. You nodded in confirmation. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You bit your tongue to hold back mockery until the taste of metallic flooded your tastebuds.

“I’ve only worked on animals. It appears you are no different than one,” you bit back calmly, shiftingyour attention to organizing the supplies Price had so carelessly tossed to the floor.

Soap let out an obnoxious snort, while Price only cocked his head in faint amusement.

“You might want to watch your tongue there, dove. Ghost has taken out many,” Price informed.

That was enough to send shivers down your spine because you knew he was being truthful.

A quick glance to Ghost showed no indication of lies, so you quickly averted your eyes, opting to avoid him. You didn’t want to imagine the horrors Ghost had caused from his hands alone. He was a force not to be reckoned with, and you’d happily stay far, far away.

“I still need to apply an herbal balm and wrap it.” You changed the topic in hopes of forgetting your slip of tongue. You rather liked keeping it in your mouth.

“Very well,” Price sighed. With a gesture of his head, he signaled the other three men out of his quarters, leaving you alone in the room with him.

It was eerily quiet between the two of you while you worked a calming balm into the tender skin around his wound, careful not to touch the fresh stitches. The herbs were a mixed paste you had created back in your village from the supplies Mary had gifted you, and they proved futile now in a sensitive time.

You wished she were here to take you away from this nightmare fueled ship. Though, you couldn’t deny it any longer — you knew she was dead, just like the rest of the village. There was nothing you could do about it.

This was your life. This was your journey. Your opinion on the matter wasn’t valid.

“Quite the snippy one, aren’t you?” The Captain’s voice broke the tense silence, though it did nothing to calm you. “I heard from a little bird that some fortnights ago, you threw your porridge on to Gaz.”

Your shoulders pulled taut in a mix of embarrassment and shame. It was as if you were a child being scolded.

“I did,” you admitted quietly.

“And you do not feel bad?” Price questioned.

“No.”

“Hm.” A smile tilted on his face, lazy just as the other ones, as if he had no energy to display the true nature of a smile. “I will hand it to you, dove, he can be quite a brat sometimes. Perhaps he deserved it.”

You glanced up from his injury to look into his eyes. Your eyebrows tugged together in confusion.

You were fully expecting outrage, or perhaps the Captain to reprimand you for taking your anger out on his crew. Instead, he seemed almost like a jokester.

That couldn’t be. He was cruel and heartless, just as the others were. It didn’t matter how much Soap jested with you, or Gaz no longer glared at you. They were still pirates.

“I am all finished up here,” you explained, clearing your throat and taking a step back. “May I return to my cell?”

The cell was the last place you wanted to be in, but it was the only haven you’d found on the ship. You certainly didn’t want to stick around the other pirates for longer than necessary.

“Nonsense,” Price mused. “You have proven to have enough skill as a medic. You’re useful and resourceful. You won’t be able to work well in that dingy cell.”

You felt a pit of nervousness fill the void in your stomach. It did somersaults, making your mouth water with the need to be sick.

This was what you wanted, right? To be accepted into the crew so that you may plot your escape down the road when the time proved right. So why did it feel strange to be praised by the very man who had slaughtered your village?

“I will be staying in the upper decks, then?” you assumed, and he chuckled.

“We don’t quite have a cot set up yet, dove. We weren’t exactly expectin’ you to last, yet here you are.” He sounded almost prideful saying that, and you weren’t sure whether to feel comforted. “You’ll join me in my quarters for now. It only makes sense while I’m healin’ up, hm?”

That pit in your stomach turned into a canyon. To share a bed with the Captain of a malicious pirate crew, watching over him as his nurse? Perhaps this was your way out, or the start of your downfall.

Either way, you either ended up dead, imprisoned, or homeless on the mainland. Homeless, but free. You’d be an idiot not to play into the game.

You could do nothing but bow your head in silent agreement, unable to decide your fate once again. You were at the hands of the Captain and his crew, and those hands may be bloodied and mean if you said otherwise. hands may be bloodied and painful if you said otherwise.

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sorinethemastermind · 13 days

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Only One Tent

You've heard of the only one bed trope, but what about only one tent and no bed? Aka the "Yes, you can use me as a pillow" prompt won the poll. #Sorvus

Soren had shared a tent with Corvus before. One of the first things King Ezran had done after reclaiming the throne had been to travel across Katolis; visiting every town and hamlet, no matter how small. Soren had accompanied him, of course. It was his duty as a Crownguard to ensure that the king remained safe. And though Corvus hadn't been a member of the guard at the time, he had traveled with them anyway. Their trusty guide to the woods and wilds of Katolis.

He was such a tree guy. It was kind of cute.

For the first week or so of their travels Corvus had insisted on sleeping outside, saying that the stars made a better roof than a canvas tent. Soren had tried to point out that the whole thing with stars was that there was no roof, but Corvus had just rolled his eyes and claimed that he was missing the point.

However as they'd traveled further north the nights had become colder, and eventually even Corvus had been forced to admit that the stars didn’t trap heat as well as good old canvas. So Soren had offered to share his tent with him. And, though he'd declined the offer at first, it hadn't been long before the pair of them were pressed back to back in Soren's tent, savoring each other's warmth as the snow fell outside. It had been warm, cozy, and wonderful.

And somehow less uncomfortable and awkward than whatever it was they were doing now.

Soren glanced over at Corvus from his side of the tent. The other man sat on the opposite side of the small canvas room, knees drawn up to his chest and arms folded. As much distance between them as there could be in the cramped little space.

Soren cleared his throat. "Don't you think we should be helping? I feel like we should be helping."

"King Ezran told you to rest." Corvus reminded him, barely sparing him a glance. Soren wondered if it was because of how many times he'd had to say that, or if it was something else. Like, maybe, he didn't know; the fact that they had kissed twenty minutes ago and the king had walked in on it.

"But don't you think-"

"King Ezran." Corvus repeated, putting extra emphasis on the words this time." Told you to rest."

Soren let out a loud hmph. Ezran had said a lot of things. Like how the destruction of Katolis wasn't his fault. And how there was nothing more he could have done. And how the people were lucky to have had him there when they did. And those just obviously weren't true. So then, maybe he didn't need to rest either?

"Why don't you get some sleep?" Corvus urged him gently, shifting a little bit closer. Soren looked up at him through the curtain of blond hair that had fallen across his face. He hadn't realized his head was drooping.

Straightening up, he rolled his shoulders. "Nah, I'm fine."

"You haven't slept in nearly two days."

"But." Soren pointed out. "I have drunk more hot brown morning potion in those two days than any other. So I'm wide awake! Really, we shouldn't even be in here. We should be out helping."

He began to reach for the tent flap, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. His friend's - boyfriend's? - grip squeezed slightly as he spoke.

"Soren. Are you okay?"

The question caught him off guard.

No. He was not okay. But people didn’t usually ask so he didn’t usually have to lie. Anyway, what did it matter? He was used to it. It would be weirder if he was okay at this point. Was anybody ever really okay, anyway?

"Yeah. Of course." Soren flashed a wide smile in Corvus' direction. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because..." Corvus trailed off, too many reasons to name them all. "I'm just worried about you."

Soren paused, his smile faltering. Then it was replaced by a smaller, genuine one. “You don’t need to be… Corvy?”

Something in Corvus’ expression told him this nickname wouldn't stick any better than the others he had tried.

“Alright, not Corvy.” he said. “How about-”

“How about you rest like the king ordered?”

“Fineee.” Soren groaned, letting the tent flap drop from his hand. “Just for an hour.”

He flopped back down onto the ground, feeling the corners of his armor jab into his sides, the sticks and stones littering the dirt floor of the tent poking into his back. The saying should have been sticks and stones can break my bones, and they sure as heck make it impossible to sleep too.

For a split second he wished he had accepted the bedroll Opeli offered him, if only so that Corvus wouldn’t be stuck lying on the cold, stony ground. But the selfish thought fled just as quickly as it had come. The hospital needed them more. He would have given them this tent too, had Opeli not insisted it was too small to be of any use.

And it was small. Corvus laid down on the ground beside him, the forced proximity making their shoulders bump. Not that Soren was mad about that. He tried to stop wiggling, for Corvus’ sake. If he needed rest, then his friend - partner? - definitely did. He’d ridden for days just to get here, and now was worried about him?

But knowing that they both needed to rest didn’t seem to make sleep any more attainable, and they both spent the next ten minutes staring at the canvas roof above them, eyes wide open, elbows and shoulders gently bumping into one another each time they moved. Unable to do anything else without disturbing Corvus, Soren had to be content simply wiggling his toes. Which, he realized after a moment, were sticking slightly out of the tent. It really was small. Or he was just big. It was probably that last one. He was a prime physical specimen, after all.

"What are you doing?" Corvus asked, rolling onto his side to look over at Soren.

“I, uh, nothing. I’m resting.”

Corvus didn’t seem convinced, so Soren rolled over to face him so he could properly explain why this should count as resting and now they could get up and go help. The words died on his lips when he realized that, in this new position, their faces were mere inches apart. Corvus’s hair tickled his forehead and their noses bumped as he shifted.

“Really?” Corvus asked, his breath warm on Soren’s face.

Soren reached out and poked his nose.

“What was that for?” Corvus asked, sitting up in his surprise.

“It was right there, what did you want me to do!?” Soren asked, rolling onto his back to look up at him, blowing the hair out of his face.

Corvus blinked a few times, the color in his cheeks deepening. Then he looked away. “What are we, Soren?”

Soren’s heart dropped and he sat up, propping himself up on one elbow as he looked over at his friend of two years. “I, uh. What do you want to be?”

He knew what he wanted. And for a second there, when they’d kissed, he’d thought maybe that was what they were now. That maybe they were a thing. But the way he’d asked that… now he wasn’t so sure.

Corvus took a deep breath and let it out slowly before replying. “I thought that maybe… maybe it was just the adrenalin, or the rush of having survived. Of both of us being okay. But what I would like is for it to have been… more than that.”

Corvus looked at him, his eyes kind and smiling in that way Soren loved so much.

“Corvus. We almost die, like, every day.” he pointed out. “And we’ve never done that before.”

“But-”

He stopped him with a quick kiss, which became a few kisses, and he felt that addressed Corvus’ concerns pretty well.

“So… can I tell everyone that you’re my boyfriend now?” he asked, finally drawing back.

Corvus lay back down on the ground, crossing his forearms behind his head as a kind of makeshift cushion. “I suppose you can.”

“Yes!” Soren flopped onto the ground beside him, punching a fist in the air. “I guess we already sort of told Ezran.”

“I can’t believe…” Corvus trailed off, shifting so that he could pinch the bridge of his nose with one hand as he closed his eyes. He sighed. “What’s done is done.”

“Yep!” Soren said cheerily, not feeling a drop of regret. “He was going to find out eventually.”

He shifted uncomfortably on the uneven, stony ground. He’d forgotten how jabby it was. A stone pressed into the back of his head and he sat up, shoved it away, and laid back down. And just as quickly sat back up.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to lie on you. I can move over.”

“That would sort of defeat the point of me putting my arm there.” Corvus said, and Soren realized that it hadn’t been an accident. Corvus scooted a little closer, stretching his arm out further towards him.

“You hurt your head, Soren. The last thing we need is you banging it against a rock.”

“So… you’re saying that I should use you as a pillow.”

“Yes. I am a pillow.”

“And you’re a pillow… for my health?”

“What else would it be for?”

Soren just smiled and lay back down, resting his head gingerly on Corvus’ proffered arm. One of the perks of working out, it seemed, was that muscles could double as pillows. More people should tell you that. He would have to keep it in mind.

Corvus rested his other arm across his chest, fingers absently playing with a torn edge on Soren’s armor. Curled up together in the warm closeness of the tent, Soren finally felt himself relax. He hadn’t realized how on edge he’d been until it all washed away.

Sure, he had a lot of work to do and there were people out there that needed helping. But he could take a couple minutes to shut his eyes, and just listen to the sound of Corvus’ slow breathing beside him, and the rustle of the tent in the wind.

Anyway, Corvus needed to rest, and if Soren got up to go and help out around camp he was sure to follow. So really, the only way to make sure that his boyfriend got some sleep was to get some himself.

Soren closed his eyes, letting himself relax for the first time in at least two days, probably longer, and with a stifled yawn sleep took him.

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dailyadventureprompts · 6 months

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Setting: The Kingdom of Xophena, Realm of the Pure

Though it is famed the world over for the piety of its people and the bravery of its knights, this kingdom holds a dark secret at its heart. If you were to see the scattering of fortress cities surrounded by horror haunted wilderness it would be all too easy to believe the legends: brave warriors sallying forth to do battle against the corruption that besieges them from all sides, slaying great foes and making great sacrifices in the name of defending the innocent. If you looked closer though you would see Xophena for all its faults, the fear by which its elite drive and dominate its populace, a tradition of martial glory that justifies any action or abuse of the warrior caste, a population forced to endure toil and abject subjugation or be exiled outside the walls.

Adventure Hooks:

While travelling through the realm of the pure as part of an ongoing quest, the party run into a retinue of outrider knights on their way to destroy a rampaging aberration hiding out in a gold mine. Some of the knights scoff at the party for being common sellswords, while others recognize them as fellow doogooders-at-arms. There's glory to be had if the party join them in their mission, and more importantly, potential reward and bragging rights.... if they can keep up, the mounted cavaliers aren't going to slow down on the party's behalf.

Xophen emissaries have made an appearance in the party's homeland, courting alliances, making trade deals, and generally putting their finger on the scales of power. Distrustful of too many good offers, the party's patron is planning on a visit to Xophena in the near future and would like them to come along as extra sets of eyes and ears. Renegade heroes have a habit of seeing through the haze of political bullshit.

Xophena would make a fascinating backdrop for a campaign, as Arthurian myth crashes into lovecraftian weirdness. The best place to start would be with the party as castoffs and exiles, eking out a living in one of the few hidden hamlets built by those outcast from the social order. How do they survive? When circumstances demand that they enter one of the fortress cities do they trick their way in, or beg favour from the sanctimonious powers that be? Can they last long enough to discover the secret that has bent the world into its current cruel shape?

Background: Only a few centuries ago Xophena was just like any other kingdom, periods of prosperity and stability that dissolved into infighting as the local warrior elite squabbled for position. That of course all changed when monsters known as the Delnbrood began to wriggle out of the earth like worms after rain, causing untold devastation and forcing a societal retreat to the increasingly fortified settlements dotted about the mountainous foothills. The fear and chaos of these years restructured Xophen society into a rigid hierarchy based around tradition, faith, and survival, which has only grown more ossified as time has gone on.

Both Xophen scripture and legend will tell you that the horrors that beset them began with a treasonous sorcerer Delndrek who sought to take the throne for himself through dishonorable means and darkest sorcery. He was opposed by Tanria brightspear, a saint of the everlight who foiled his every sly attempt to seize power, until at last she cornered him and forced his surrender. Ever the coward, Delndrek sacrificed his humanity rather than relinquish his ambition, becoming an indescribable abomination, that it took the bright speared saint five days to vanquish, dying in the process. It's said that the aberrations that beset Xophena today are born from where his tainted blood struck the earth.

Like many of the tales told about the realm of the pure, this story is a lie, gilded with just enough truth to make it stick in the people's memory. Delndrek wasn't just a sorcerer, but the sorcerer of the royal family, tasked with magicing away all the problems that backwoods dynasty couldn't solve through bloodshed or political marriage. The kingdom's goldmines had always been its lifeblood, and most of the fighting in those days about who could profit from what claim. Trouble was the royal family's mines were drying up, so they threw their pet mage at the problem said that if he didn't find a solution they'd torture him till they did. Dying mines and mounting stress forced Delndrek to look deeper and deeper for an answer, and eventually led him to communion with the outergod Jysh'parun who holds dominion over the secrets of mountains. A pact was struck, the mountains ate people and spat up gold, until eventually the saint found out and decided to put a stop to things.

Cut to today, and the dependants of that very same royal family are still trying to wriggle out of the pact they instigated, spending their people's lives to fill their coffers and fight back the creatures the outer god sends to assert dominion over the realm he was promised.

Setting Details:

The church of the everlight was always strong in Xophena, dating back half a millennia to when an adherent of hers was lost on a stormy sea for months and was only able to find land when the mist parted and he saw the dawn first alighting on one of the region's seaside peaks. The mountainous temple city of First Alight still serves as the heart of the region's faith.

That faith has become just as gaudy and hollow as the rest of the kingdom: Somewhere along the line it was decided that gold was the best way to demonstrate praise to Sarenrae, both in decorating her icons and paying to erect ever grander structures in her honour. While the common people pray for the hope and strength to lead them through lean times, their tithes go to fund an increasingly bloated clergy who spend their days finding reasons that the peoples' sinful nature forestalls their goddess's promised salvation.

You don't compose ballads calling your homeland "Realm of the Pure" unless you've got some hangups around cleanliness. Delndrek's corruption has touched more than the land, as aberrant sorceries and otherworldly mutations have begun to spring up among the populace. Those with influence do their best to hide these marks, those without are scapegoated, exiled, or made an example of.

For all their privilege and brainwashing, many of the realm's knights really do believe in the cause, having largely abandoned the ways of petty armed gentry and settling instead into martial orders. While they all compete to slay the most beasts and earn the most gallant reputation, it is a deepset longing among the knights to be able to find St. Tanria's lost spear, which in the right hands is said to be able to rid the land of its blight once and for all.

Arcane magic is viewed with suspicion in Xophena, as any rogue mage could be just another Delndrek waiting to happen. Exceptions are of course made for those spoken for by the nobility.

Art 1

Art 2

#Jysh'parun #setting #campaign #press start #mountain #lovecraft #occult #dnd #dungeons and dragons #d&d #ttprg #pathfinder #sarenrae

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littleplantfreak · 10 days

Text

A Candle’s Memory

Pairing: Umemiya x Reader

Cw: Fluff and slight hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1782

I did this as an exercise that turned into me writing for longer than I was supposed to because I felt sad about leaving it unfinished. The Prompts were candle wick or an old flame rekindled (I did both) and the theme was : Preservation in preparation for the coming winter, we try to hold onto the last bit of warmth. Write about letting go, or not wanting to.

Oh! Thank you @birinboom, min skat and my lovely beta reader. I wouldn’t have posted it without you 😘

Thunk

Snow hitting your window snaps your mind out of the book you were reading and breaks the immersion completely, causing more anger than fear. You know the face that pops up outside the window immediately as you give him a bored look. For a 12 year old, Umemiya's more dependable than most adults, dragging himself out of bed at 6:00AM to shovel the older neighbors' sidewalks. His cheeks and nose are stained red, and his sniffling causes the window to fog up.

When you crack the window halfway, the warmth is sucked out of your room, the wind blowing the candle you were using as a reading light out. Dog earring the page of your book, you reach out as your hands cover his cheeks, hoping to bring him some form of warmth. You really have to pity his poor skin with the way he gives it no more care than to wrap a scarf around his neck and sometimes bury his face deep in it to keep away frostbite.

"Whatcha readin' this time?" He asks, feeling the blood return to his face now that there's warm skin over his own frigid cheeks. The candle blown out stares him down while the wax cools as if faulting him for its death.

"Treasure Island. You should read it after I'm done." Because he should. You know his taste, and this is something he can get behind. Pirates and adventure for a boy who's got an equally adventurous dream roiling in his bones. He never asks what it's about, and you never tell him, both content at the surprise.

"I'll pick it up on my way to school," Is all he says to that before taking the matches off the side of the table and relighting your candle. He hops down a little ways, setting out to do at least two more sidewalks before he has to go back home and get dressed.

This routine continues until it stops snowing. Or at least you would think it would. He doesn't have any real reason to come back once it's warm enough, you'd think, but when he shows up on a morning without snow, you're a bit confused.

"I saw the candle going again and decided to stop by." He says immediately. It's still cold, but his face is much less irritated by it without precipitation.

"Are you...on a walk?"

"Something like that!" He says leaning into the window, giving no concern over how close he gets to you or the burning candle he almost knocks over. It'd be silly to say you didn't have a crush on him, especially with his constant morning attention and how his smile seemed to light up your room more than your candle ever could.

His eyes go to the book you're reading once again. This time the cover reads Hamlet. When he meets your eyes again, you let out a breath you'd been holding.

"This one is a tragedy, so you might not like it as much." It's more than you've ever said about one of the books before.

"Do you like it?" He asks, gray eyes dancing between looking at your bedhead and the pretty eyes that caught his attention the first time he saw you through the window.

"I do."

"I'll give it a try." He shows a softer smile, less thousand-watt and more warm sunny day. You're not sure if he can tell just how breathless it makes you when he does that. Surely he has to know. The thought of him smiling like that makes your heart twist in an unpleasant way, but you'll be damned if you ever let that monster win against showing him nothing but the smile you return to him.

The one morning you wish he'd come, he doesn't. The dread you feel lays heavy like a rock in your throat as the moving van comes that afternoon, dragging you away from your window. Before you leave, you look from the outside where he'd stand, seeing from his point of view what it looked like sans burning candle. Surely it must look more comforting with the flame and its golden halo.

When you think about him coming back to the dark empty frame, no longer allowed access, the tears you thought would be so easy to hold back fall painfully. The bookmark you lay out on the windowsill that your parents bought you as a birthday present sits limp and dead, and you wonder if it'll blow away before he finds it.

It does not blow away before he finds it, luckily. The unlucky thing is that you're gone. He's been kept away by a fever he didn't think would get worse after the first day. Try as he might've to meet you, the room spun, and he quickly and often became accustomed to the toilet those three days he was bedridden. The bookmark had small pressed petals and a pink tassel to match them. He holds it tight, looking at the window and feeling like it was a closed door.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

When you move back to your hometown, you're well out of high school. The town has changed for the better as you walk through, seeing the community flourish with potted plants in front of stores no longer kicked and smashed, and kids walking together, no nervous glances to the alleyways anymore. You've got an inkling as to who's responsible for the change, but you brush aside thoughts of him even now, the nostalgia keeping you from reading any books you'd shared back then. You'd learned fast back then that rereading them only caused stormy waves to wash over you, soaking you in a delicate sadness.

There are plenty of books in the world. A few are off limits. If you saw him, though, would it allow you to read them again, the way you so desperately wish to? Sometimes you wonder if it's the books you miss or the interest Umemiya gave to both you and the pages.

You buy your old house from your parents, who never got around to selling it. It's run down and dusty, and the rooms are the same as ever. You can't bring yourself to take any room but your own from back then, setting it up differently except for the desk against the window.

The old scentless candle is now replaced with a sweet lemon one that you allow to burn while the window stays open well into the later evening. The lack of scent back then was only due to your parents who weren't pleased with your staying up past bedtime, hours into the next morning, and then sleeping when you got home from school until you started the cycle once more.

The house feels better now that you've got it clean, at least. There are carpets to rip out, and leaks to check. The backyard is overgrown, and the light in the shed refuses to work, but this is home. It feels more like home than the house you'd moved to all those years ago.

The next day, you walk back to your house from the library with a stack of three books nestled close to your chest. You can't help your eyes flickering to the large figure making his way to the door you've just come out of, and when you hold it for him, you're more sure than ever.

"Umemiya Hajime, is that you?" you ask, voice a little more enthused than you'd wanted it to be. He looks once, then to the door before he double takes. You can see the cogs turning in his mind, with the cutest pout you didn't know a grown man could make. Your name falls from his mouth like a question. "The one and only," you say, and your smile turns fond, remembering just how much tinier he used to be. You were always taller than him, at least from your seat at the desk, but now he towers above you.

"It's really you," he breathes for a moment, looking at the differences and picking them out easily. He feels like it was just yesterday that he leaned too close to your candle, singeing the end of his scarf by accident. He remembers the look of panic when you realized he was on fire and started smacking at him with your book. You'd ended up having to buy that one from the library due to the soot and small scorches to the cover from your rescue. He still has it on a shelf in his room, insisting he'd pay you back, but you said it'd be a late Christmas present despite it being closer to Valentine's day than anything. When he brought it up back then, you'd waved it off, stuttering something about how it was more about intention than actual calendar dates.

"Are you visiting?" He asks, not having heard that you were around from anyone, but you always were a bit more introverted.

"I bought my old house and moved back actually. There was a job with a 20-minute commute from here, so I figured it'd be great to be somewhere familiar. I didn't know Makochi changed this much." He sees the crinkle of your eyes and the smile you throw to him when you say the last sentence, knowing you've always been fully aware of his dreams. Seeing that was worth more than any praise. The look was praise itself, maybe, given how it filled his chest with a warmth that had him laying a hand there as his fingers played with the neck of his shirt as he tried hard not to fist the fabric.

"If I'd known, I would've stopped by sooner."

"You know now, so stop by whenever you want," you laugh, because years ago, he would never have been shy about it. The book you see he's holding has something pink attached. A memory surfaces, spanning over years of living in a separate, different place, only to settle right where a story ended. At least you thought it had ended, but maybe you'll have to crack it open again just to be sure.

"This time, you can come in through the door." You walk off with a wave, thinking about lighting that lemon scented candle again when you get home. You let it burn long enough last time for the memory to shape the wax into a nice, even pool, which will help the wick burn slow and steady once you relight it.

#mari writes #umemiya hajime x reader #wind breaker x reader #im never quite close enough to the theme as i want to be but i think it was decent enough

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analviel · 9 months

Text

Each Batkid has a stressball plushie of each of their other family members.

They squeeze it. Punch it. Hug it. Talk to it. Use it as their programming rubber ducky. Make them talk to each other. Make them perform a rendition of Hamlet. Sneak into the other's room to put the plushie-them in a creepy and dark corner to loom over their sibling in the middle of the night when they're getting up for water. Or make all the plushie stare at their bed so that when they wake up they see the damning faces of their family. Put sticky notes on the plushie-thems as a reply to their argument or a note of love (only applies to certain people).

Many occasions of throwing the plushies at a wall and then picking it back up with an apology while dusting it, "It's not your fault but human-you is a fucking idiot."

"Spin in the fucking washer asshole."

"Yeah, yeah, judge me all you want, you'd do the same."

"I'll go take this up with a more intelligent being, like plushie-you!"

"Well I'd bet plushie-me would still agree, you're stupid!"

Each one gets their own holiday costume.

Some would even take the time to put white cloth on them as bandages when someone's injured.

Cass had been the one to knit them actually. And it was at a time where her knitting skills was still work in progress but no one ever requested for a better one.

"At least plushie-you isn't as ugly as you."

"Take that back."

#dc #batfam #dc comics #robin #batman #batgirls #Bruce wayne #Dick grayson #Barbara gordon #alfred pennyworth #Jason todd #Tim drake #cassandra cain #Stephanie brown #damian wayne #Duke thomas #I write #Headcanon

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chickenlizard13 · 1 year

Text

Catching Up To Do

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Reader (gender neutral)

Word Count: 8122

Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Description: Happens during their 7th year.

Too Far Away (Part 2) No One Else (Part 3)

It’d been a hard year. Well, almost two really, but who was actually counting?

You were. And Ominis. It felt like the two of you kept track of each second Sebastian was gone. Not just gone, disappeared. After Solomon had been killed in the catacomb, triggering Anne’s departure, Sebastian just…vanished. Not a word to either of you.

You’d spent those first few months searching. Every night, every holiday, every weekend. You and Ominis would hole up in the cold, empty Sallow home, praying he’d wander in. He’d made some awful, terrible, wicked decisions, but every night you spent flying over the hamlets, all you could see were his wide eyes as he watched Anne cradle Solomon’s lifeless body. He’d just been a boy, helpless, trying to save something he loved more than life when it seemed everyone else had given up. It’s like he’d been stuck in quicksand, the harder he fought, the faster he sank.

At first, you were angry. Angry at him for leaving you and Ominis to pick up the pieces, angry at him for pushing things so far, angry at yourself for letting him. You’d fooled yourself, believing he’d stop if you were serious enough, believing your words would be able to change his trajectory. You were wrong.

After the anger, came the sorrow, great heaving waves that would crash down on you, beating your battered body against the ocean floor. Some nights you’d find yourself sobbing into Ominis’s shoulder, hating yourself for your weakness, surprised Ominis didn’t hate you too.

Eventually, your sorrow became a deep loneliness. A hollow feeling in your chest, driving you to keep searching, everywhere, anywhere. You imagined that this loneliness may have been something akin to the driving force Sebastian felt. Underneath all that rage, had been a terrible, all consuming loneliness. He’d simply missed his sister, just as you now missed him.

After a year, you stopped. You couldn’t do it anymore, breaking your own heart night after night, cursing the heavens for their cruelty. It was too much, and you hated yourself even more for it.

Ominis continued to search. Not as often, but you knew there were nights he’d walk the dark streets of Feldcroft, hoping to catch a glimpse of messy brunette hair, atop a mischievous freckled smile.

He knew you stopped, and he never faulted you for it. Never blamed you for anything, simply acknowledged your actions with a quiet understanding. Even though you didn’t go looking anymore, you’d still catch yourself gazing at the gates or searching the crowded halls, disappointed every time.

—-------

The start of your 7th year was uneventful. You greeted your friends with enthusiasm, some already lamenting that this was your final year together before life led you elsewhere. You’d laugh, telling them to slow down and focus on classes before planning any goodbye parties.

You’d spent the first week welcoming the first years, catching up with your housemates, and studiously ignoring the haunting visage of broad shoulders and brown locks, disappearing into crowded corridors. These brief hallucinations were nothing new, and you vowed to enjoy your final year, despite their frequent occurrences.

You’d spent far too long chasing ghosts, perhaps it was time to move on.

—-------

You were charging down the steps of Central Hall, incredibly late for Herbology, having fallen asleep in The History of Magic, again. Several books and loose notes were clutched in your arms, many just barely hanging on by the edges.

You weren’t paying attention to your surroundings in the slightest, nearly falling headfirst over the handrail in order to avoid barreling into anyone.

Successfully shoving your way through a group of Quidditch players, you emerge, only to ram your face right into a hard chest. Dropping your supplies, you yelp in pain and cover your nose, afraid you’d broken it and would need to head to the Hospital Wing. You doubled over, shooting off some incredibly creative expletives you were sure would make even the Hogshead regulars blush.

Squinting through your tears, you could see that the stranger had stopped, having used Levioso to catch all your books. You start spewing apologies, while repeatedly thanking them for gathering your belongings. You still hadn’t looked to see who you’d bumped into, the figure being much too tall to be anyone you knew. Determining that your nose wasn’t broken, you blink away the remaining tears and go to grab your books from the kind man. He’d had yet to say anything, and patiently stood, unmoving in front of you.

Looking up, you attempt to apologize once more, when the words die in your throat. The boy…man, standing in front of you was significantly taller than the last time you’d seen him, your eyes level with his chest. Some of the youthfulness had disappeared from his face, leaving a chiseled jaw and prominent cheekbones, his freckles accentuating their contour. You struggled to take in oxygen as your eyes scanned his face, subconsciously noting a new scar decorating his brow, and another faint one across the bridge of his nose.

You stood there frozen, having completely forgotten your earlier rush, trying to figure out if your grief had taken your hallucinations to a whole new level. Perhaps you really did need to go to the Hospital Wing after all.

He looked back at you just as silently, face stoic and unreadable, but never taking his gaze away from you. His eyes darted around your face, as if he was memorizing you, noting the changes he saw, lingering on your lips for a fraction of a second before darting away.

A book still hung suspended in the air in front of you, forgotten as you studied each other, the room and bustling students fading away until it was just the two of you. You stood there with wide eyes, watering with the need to blink, but refusing to do so lest he disappear again.

A small whimper escapes your lips, and you see his eyebrow twitch at the noise, hands and jaw clenching as you take in a shaky breath.

“Se…bastian?” You whispered his name quietly. So quietly, you weren’t entirely sure if you’d spoken at all. He blinked, and suddenly the spell was broken. His face became stony, and he used his wand to place your remaining book into your arms before brushing past you. You thought you heard him grumble ‘You’re late’ as he passed, but couldn’t quite hear him over the blood rushing in your ears.

He left you standing dumbstruck, staring at the space he’d just occupied, startling when you felt something wet hit the back of your hand. You brought that hand up to your face, feeling the wet tracks sliding silently down your cheeks, unsure of when you’d started crying.

—-------

You’d walked in a daze to Herbology, miraculously managing to still make it on time. Professor Garlick set to reviewing a few key points from the previous year before starting the lesson, which you barely paid attention to, instead operating completely on autopilot until the class had ended. You continued on like that for the rest of the day, many of your friends asking what had happened, but only receiving a distracted ‘nothing’ in return.

Wandering down to the Undercroft, you hoped Ominis would be there, if only to tell you that you’d finally gone mad and it was all in your head. You failed to hear two voices rising in volume as you descended into the room, unable to take your wide eyes off the floor, where they’d lingered all day.

The gate opened and you shuffled forward, the tense voices immediately halting as you spoke.

“Ominis, I-I think I saw S-...oh.” Your eyes dragged themselves from the floor, landing on the scene before you. Sebastian and Ominis stand, staring at you from the center of the room. You’d clearly just interrupted a very heated conversation, judging from the furrowed brows and angry flush the boys were sporting.

Sebastian’s gaze hardened as he stood up straight, jaw clenching once more as he looked at you. Breaking eye contact, he swiftly strode past Ominis to the exit.

“We’ll continue this later.”

You wanted to call out to him, beg him not to leave again, but he felt too far away. It was like you were standing alone on an island, watching your ship purposefully sail away from you. Your mouth opened to speak as you watched him pass you, but no sound came out, a helpless look in your eyes.

A snarl sounded from behind you, coming from deep in Ominis’s chest. “Sallow! Don’t you dare walk away, you coward. Get your ass back here and give them an ex-”

“I have nothing to say to them.” His words hit you square in the chest, a pained noise forcing itself out of your throat.

Back to you, he hesitated only a moment, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides before exiting the Undercroft without another word.

Your body shook violently, hyperventilating as your breath came in quick succession. You were crying again, staring at the door he’d left through, trying to keep it together. Ominis called to you urgently, rushing to your side as you heaved air painfully into your lungs. He threw his arms around you, trapping your arms against your sides as he squeezed you.

He kept reassuring you, asking you to breathe with him. You shook your head, hysterically repeating that everything was fine, you were fine.

You both sunk to the floor, earth shattering sobs wracked your body as you held onto Ominis’s arm for dear life. You could feel a wet spot from where Ominis pressed his cheek up against your shoulder, allowing himself to cry with you as you got your breathing semi under control. You held each other for a long time, parting only when you felt calm enough to head to your separate beds, resolving to speak at a later date.

You lay in bed that night with dry eyes, unable to shed another tear. Staring blankly at the curtains surrounding you, the night dragged on, sleep avoiding you at every turn.

—-------

It’d been a couple days since the incident in the Undercroft, your mind felt a bit numb, no doubt caused by the raging storm of emotions that’d been plaguing your thoughts. Ominis had been unable to meet you since that night, 7th year classes bogging you both down, leaving little room for anything else. You sat alone in the library, tucked away in a back corner hidden from prying eyes, quietly trying to focus on your pile of assignments.

Realizing you needed a specific book to complete your paper, you stand from your chair and walk to the appropriate section. You squint at the spines, trying to make out the tiny lettering, noticing that the book you were after was filed incorrectly and was sitting on a much higher shelf. Sighing, you reach into your robes for your wand, confused when your pockets come up empty. You look at the floor, wondering if it’d fallen, until you recall placing it on your study table next to your stack of homework.

Heaving another heavy sigh, you stare up at the book, wondering if it was even worth it to walk all the way back for your wand. Standing on your toes, you try to stretch as far as you can, fingers just brushing the lip of the shelf you needed. Grunting in frustration, you put one foot on the lowest shelf and pull yourself a little higher, fingers now grazing the spine, but unable to get a good grasp.

As you were about to put your other foot on the next shelf, opting to just climb the bookcase, an arm appears above you and removes the book from the shelf. Scrambling down, you spin around to object.

“Oh! Um, I was actually trying to-” Your eyes travel upward and find themselves captive to Sebastian’s intense gaze. His hand had paused above you, the corner of the book still resting on the edge of the wood, effectively trapping you between him and the bookshelf. Your mouth felt dry at the close proximity, but you refused to break eye contact.

“Um…I need that.”

You swore you could see the slightest quirk of his lips, as if he wanted to smirk at you, but held it in. “I know. That’s why I grabbed it.”

He slowly lowers his arm, handing you the book gently. You take it hesitantly, accidentally brushing his fingers with yours. He’d been very careful to keep his distance even with the close proximity, so you felt his fingers jerk away when they’d touched yours, as if he’d been shocked. His brow twitched, lips turning down into a frown. You didn’t want to see that look on his face, so you broke eye contact, looking at the floor.

“Thank you.” Careful not to touch him again, you stepped around him and started walking back to your table. You wondered why he’d helped you, seeing as how he clearly didn’t want anything to do with you. Pausing your movement, you turn toward him once more, face still directed at the ground.

“I’m sorry.” You weren’t sure when the next opportunity to speak to him would present itself, if it would present itself, so you wanted to say your piece while you had the chance.

He quirked an eyebrow at you, putting his hands into his pockets before leaning a shoulder against the bookshelf. “For what?”

Apparently he was in a more talkative mood today, seeing as how these were the most words he’d spoken to you since his return. You looked up at him, feeling a little braver, and did your best to not stare at his exposed forearms. He really had grown up quite a bit over the last two years.

“For…being weak. I couldn’t- I couldn’t help Anne, and…and if I were stronger, maybe I could’ve. Then you wouldn’t have had to…go away.” Chancing a glance, you could see a pinched look on his face, his brow scrunched together in a look of distress.

The almost pleasant atmosphere was gone, replaced with a tense weight that threatened to crush you if you pushed too hard. Looking back at the floor, you clutch the book to your chest, trying to use it as a kind of shield against his ire. “I understand why you…hate…me, but I just-”

“I don’t hate you.”

The words were murmured quickly, his voice so low you had to strain to hear him. You glanced up, a look of heartbreak rested itself on his handsome face, the most emotion you’d seen from him thus far.

Letting a sad smile slip onto your face, you held his gaze. “You don’t have to lie.”

Deciding that your heart couldn’t handle more, you turn on your heel and quickly walk back to the rest of your belongings, gathering everything into your bag and checking out the book. You could do your assignments elsewhere, for now you just needed to put some distance between yourself, and the man watching your back longingly.

—-------

After that, you did your best to avoid Sebastian entirely. Making sure to always look busy, or seem engrossed in a conversation if you passed him in the halls. You noticed he and Ominis had started hanging around each other again. Often surrounded by tense silence, but you were glad to see them putting forth the effort to fix their relationship. You didn’t see much of Ominis, the blonde mainly focusing on repairing things with Sebastian, which was fine. You had plenty of other friends to spend your free time with, but you did miss his company.

One person you found yourself gravitating towards was Garreth Weasley. He was social, and could talk to anyone about anything, making him incredibly easy to be around. Which is what you felt like you needed, an easy friendship that didn’t demand that much from you. You’d often walk together between classes, laughing as you teased him about his crush on Poppy, his freckled face growing redder every second.

Sometimes, you could sense a pair of eyes boring into your back, the feeling fading as soon as you’d turn to look.

Days turned into weeks, and before you knew it, a whole month had passed. Mid term exams were fast approaching and you were on your way to the library with Garreth, arguing playfully about the number of lacewing flies needed for a Felix Felicis potion. Garreth was adamant that the more flies you added, the more potent the potion, but you were pretty sure it would cause an explosion.

You weren’t paying attention to where you were going, and bumped directly into Sebastian, for the second time. You bounced off him lightly with a small ‘oof’, noting that he didn’t move an inch, clearly having planted himself in your path. You look up at his face, noticing his gaze trained directly on Garreth, who looked back slightly unnerved.

“I need to talk to you.”

Sebastian didn’t break eye contact with Garreth, so you assumed he was speaking to the redhead, but after a beat he turned his eyes expectantly in your direction. He hadn’t phrased it as a question, his tone leaving little room for you to object, but it would be rude to ditch Garreth when the two of you already had plans, so you tried anyway.

“I can’t really talk right now. Garreth and I are-” Sebastian’s eyes shot to Garreth again, a dark glare daring the other boy to challenge him.

“You know what, that’s totally ok with me. You, uh, go have that conversation, and I’ll get a head start on the assignment.” Garreth hurried off to the library without looking back. Sebastian tracked his movement with narrowed eyes, turning back to you once you were alone.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Sebastian crossed his arms as he spoke, a grumpy set to his brow. He stood close, forcing you to look up at him as he towered over you. You squeezed your books a bit tighter against your chest, trying to stop its incessant pounding.

“Have I?”

Sebastian huffed, brows furrowing further.

“Don’t play coy with me.”

You bit the inside of your lip, studying his face, trying to pinpoint his angle in this conversation. “Is it really ‘avoiding’ if you don’t want to see me anyway?”

He got that pinched look again, and no matter how hard you looked, you still couldn’t discern its meaning. “I never said I didn’t want to see you.”

Some of that old snippiness you’d get when arguing with him started to resurface, and you shot back at him without thinking. “Your attitude seems to indicate otherwise.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, his scowl deepening. “How would you know anything about my attitude, when you’ve clearly been avoiding me?”

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose, suddenly remembering the stress headaches he’d give you when he was being particularly stubborn. “Sebastian. What- What is it you want? First you’re storming out of the Undercroft, refusing to speak to me, and now you’re upset that I’ve been giving you a wide berth? I’m getting whiplash from the constant back and forth. So what is it?”

You don’t hear anything for a moment, the air charged and hanging dense between you two. Just as you’re about to tell him to forget it, he speaks.

“I’m sorry.” You open your eyes to see him staring at his shoes, the same pinched look back on his face. “Ominis and I had a pretty bad argument before you came down that night. I…was feeling emotional, and took it out on you. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

You weren’t sure if it was due to shame or not, but Sebastian was struggling to look you in the eyes, like he was afraid of what he might see there. You let out a small sigh, arms coming to cross over your heart protectively.

“I can understand that. You probably didn’t want to see me anyway so-”

“Stop saying that.” His voice is fierce, beckoning your eyes to look up at him. He traps you in his stare as soon as your eyes meet, a pleading look behind his irises. “I did want to see you. I do want to see you.”

You look at him helplessly, trying desperately to decipher what his eyes were trying to tell you. Your voice comes out in a pained whisper, unable to mask the deep hurt his absence created. “Then why didn’t you?”

His face crumples and he has to break eye contact, looking back at the floor. He bites his lips and blinks a few times before taking a deep breath, voice matching yours in volume. “I-I can’t tell you…right now. Not because- because I don’t want to. I just, need a little bit more time.”

Looking at Sebastian in this moment, it seemed like the weight of the world rested on his broad shoulders. You could see that whatever happened in his absence had aged him well beyond his years. As much as you wanted to demand answers from him, you could clearly see how close he was to the edge, and didn’t want to be the thing that pushed him off.

“Ok.”

His shoulders slumped immediately, all the tension leaving them. He didn’t remove his eyes from the floor, but released a sigh while nodding his head. “Thank you.”

The two of you stood there in silence for a moment longer, unsure where to go from here. Sebastian glanced up at you through his lashes, scuffing his foot on the floor. “I guess you should, uh, get to Garreth.”

Truthfully, you’d completely forgotten about Garreth, suddenly feeling guilty for keeping him waiting for so long. “Yeah, I guess I should. Um, see you…later?”

The question came out shaky and unsure, but Sebastian nodded his head instantly, letting out a quiet ‘yeah’ before bidding you goodbye. You walked past him towards the library, and could hear him turn to watch you disappear down the stairs.

————-

You started slow. Giving each other small smiles and waves in the corridor, or across The Great Hall during meal times. From there, you escalated to walking each other to class, keeping conversations light. Safe.

It was clear that you’d both changed while apart, and you wanted to take your time getting to know this new person, dressed in such familiar skin.

Your heart would leap in your chest every time you got a chuckle out of him, feeling like you’d put another crack in his shell with each one. You tried not to let the giddiness show on your face, often looking down, lips trembling with effort as you fought a wide smile.

Ominis would often accompany you to your shared classes, giving you a small sense of normalcy after being without for so long. It wasn’t what it used to be, not by a long shot, but you hoped the three of you could get back to something similar.

Sebastian picked up Quidditch again. Well, it was more like Imelda grabbed the back of his collar and physically dragged him all the way to the pitch for practice, telling him that he’d do well to put his new muscle to good use. He’d tried to protest, giving up quickly, as he had enough sense to know he shouldn’t piss her off too much. You hadn’t been aware that Sebastian was even on the Quidditch team, but Ominis informed you that he’d been one of the top Chasers in Hogwarts before the season was canceled in your fifth year.

You were walking to Potions with Garreth, being interrogated about what he should get Poppy as a courting gift, when you felt a dark aura heading down the hall toward you. Turning your head from Garreth, you see Sebastian stalking towards you, a slight scowl on his face as his eyes dart between the two of you. Sebastian wasn’t overly fond of Garreth. Why? You couldn’t say, but Sebastian was always extra cranky when the red head was around, refusing to explain himself. You’d tried asking Ominis once, but all he did was sigh and say ‘Because he’s an idiot.’

Whatever the reason, the scowl on his face remained firmly in place as the three of you converged, stopping briefly.

Garreth hadn’t the faintest idea as to why Sebastian disliked him, but still made an effort to be welcoming and friendly whenever together. “Sebastian!”

“Weasley.” Garreth didn’t let the brunette’s curt greeting phase him, even as Sebastian crossed his arms, scowl deepening.

“Excited to see you back on the pitch tomorrow! Hope you kept up your flying during your time abroad.”

Anytime someone would inquire about Sebastian’s long period of absence, he’d simply state that he’d been a part of an exchange program, studying at one of the other magic academies. It was enough to placate most people, many too intimidated by his stoic mask to pry further.

Sebastian’s eyebrow twitched, taking Garreth’s friendly competition as a slight against his abilities with a broom. “I’m not the one you should be worrying about.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, pondering a way to break this weird tension. There had been several attempts to correct Sebastian on Garreth’s intentions, but every time he’d narrow his eyes at you, muttering ‘That’s just what he wants you to think’ under his breath before staring daggers over at the Gryffindor table.

Just as you were about to excuse yourself and continue walking to class, hoping Garreth would follow, a smug voice called your name, the figure strolling up to your group with unwarranted swagger. Turning, you pray it’s Ominis, even though you know it’s definitely not.

Leander Prewett came to a stop beside you, much too close for comfort, an over confident smirk plastered on his mouth. “Hello, dearest. How are you on this fine day?”

Sebastian ground his teeth together, a deep irritation rolling off him in waves. “Fucking perfect.”

You’d been forced to inform Sebastain of Leander’s unfortunate fixation on you, when he’d sent you a poorly written love letter, via howler. Crouching in the hall, you covered your mortified face with your hands as Leander’s howler screamed his misguided feelings for all to hear.

His obsession started all the way back in the beginning of sixth year, when you’d made the mistake of complimenting his physique. He’d been upset that a girl he fancied turned him down, convincing himself he was too ugly to love.

In a well meaning attempt to cheer him up, you’d disagreed and said he was very handsome, promising someone would be very lucky to have him one day. To your dismay, he took that as a confession, immediately swearing his love and loyalty to you for the rest of his days. You’d tried ever so gently to correct him, but he’d refused to hear it, choosing to believe that you were just shy, embarrassed by your feelings for him.

Now, in the midst of your seventh year, it seemed he was still in hot pursuit, all of your rejections falling on deaf ears.

Sebastian heard all this and went on the offense, looking Leander dead in the eye as he shredded the letters with his fingers and set every bouquet on fire. This did little to deter Leander, vowing to rescue his love from the clutches of the beast guarding them.

“Get lost, Prewett. They’re not interested.”

Leander scoffed, turning his nose up at Sebastian, ignoring him completely. “Anyway, my sweet, would you care to join m-”

“No thank you, Leander. As I’ve said before, I’m not on the market.” Your words are monotone, practiced, saying the same line you had a hundred times before.

Sebastian visibly stiffened, eyes boring into you as his face dropped a bit. Furrowing your brow, you tilt your head at him in silent question, confused by his reaction. Leander laughed loudly, as if your comment was meant as a jest.

“My pet, of course you’re not on the market! Obviously you’re with m-”

“No. I’m not, as I’ve said several times before.”

Deciding you’d had just about enough, you grab Garreth by the wrist, walking quickly towards the potions classroom. “We’re going to be late for class. Sebastian, I’ll see you later?”

All you got in return was a distracted nod, Sebastian’s mind clearly elsewhere. You wanted to ask what was wrong, but you really were going to be late for class if you didn’t hurry. Throwing him one more concerned look over your shoulder, you and Garreth hurry to Professor Sharp’s class.

—-------

You didn’t end up seeing Sebastian for the rest of the day, or the morning after. The next time you spotted him was on the pitch, during warm ups for the quidditch game between Slytherin and Gryffindor. Garreth gave you an enthusiastic wave, which you returned, while also gesturing with your head to Poppy sitting beside you. He blushed slightly, also waving at her shyly, a nervous smile painting his lips. Poppy reciprocated in much the same manner, looking down at her hands in embarrassment.

You searched the field and locked eyes with Sebastian, who’d just witnessed your interaction with Garreth, giving him an encouraging smile as you mouthed the words ‘You’ll do great’. His face was impassive as he nodded his head slightly, turning back to focus on his teammates.

Hoping to get the chance to speak with him later, you turned your attention to the field as the players got in position. You could see the tension in everyone’s bodies, the air charged as they waited for the signal, and as the horn blew, they were off.

Your eyes were glued to the field, watching in awe as the players maneuvered their brooms with skill and ease. During your fifth year, you’d bested Imelda in the training courses she loved, which was mostly thanks to the upgrades Albie had installed.

Watching her now though, you were convinced it had been a fluke. She turned her broom in a tight corkscrew zipping straight towards the ground, pulling up at the last second in pursuit of the Golden Snitch.

Scanning the field, you spot Sebastian tossing the quaffle through yet another hoop, diving after it quickly as soon as it’d gone through. He deftly dodged the bludgers hurtling towards him, focus unbroken as he scored again. It seemed to you that a good portion of the Gryffindor team was focused solely on slowing him down, failing at every turn. You were unable to take your eyes off him, the way his uniform hugged his body at the forefront of your mind.

Looking down quickly, you mentally chastise yourself. You’d just barely become friends again, sort of, and you weren’t about to jeopardize that in any way. He still hadn’t revealed to you why he’d left, a part of you still convinced it was because of you. Furrowing your brows, you shook your head a bit, trying to dispel the depressing thoughts that had begun to form. Instead, you focus back on the game, eyes still periodically straying to Sebastian’s form.

Leaning on the edge of your seat, you watch with bated breath as both teams continued to score on the other, the tension reaching its peak when both were tied at 140. It was anyone’s game, each side needing to score one last goal to claim their victory. Imelda remained focused on the snitch, having little regard for the other players as she ducked and wove through them.

You heard shouts of excitement from the stands, straining your eyes to see what the commotion was about.

Finally, you see Sebastian swiftly swipe a quaffle out of Garreth’s hands, speeding towards the Gryffindor goals, laser focused. Almost every Gryffindor player abandoned their formations, instead attempting to converge on Sebastian before he scored. Unfortunately, they were too late. Not that it would have mattered anyway, for at the same time Sebastian scored the final goal, Imelda shot to the sky triumphant, Golden Snitch clutched in her hand.

You’d never seen anything like it. No wonder Imelda had been so forceful about Sebastian joining the team, together they made quite a formidable pair. Everyone in the stands lost their minds at Slytherin’s double victory, and you shouted with the rest of your friends, heart swelling with pride over Sebastian’s achievement.

Everyone rushed down to the field to congratulate the players, even commending the Gryffindor team for their exceptional skill and near win. You pushed through the throngs of people, looking in every direction for the brunette.

Feeling a tap on your shoulder, you whirl around, only to be faced with Leander’s smug grin, his uniform damp from playing.

“Come to cheer me up, my sweet? Your kindness knows no bounds.” He moves forward to embrace you, and you swiftly put up your arm, keeping him at a distance.

“Leander, seriously I’m not-”

Leander continues to advance on you, forcing you to take a step back for every one he takes forward. There isn’t anywhere to run in such a thick crowd, but your eyes dart around for any possible escape routes. “Oh come now, stop being so coy, we’re finally alone aren’t we? Where’s your scary guard dog, hm? I don’t see him.”

“He’s right here.”

A cold, angry voice growled lowly in your ear, sending a chill up your spine. Sebastian stares hard at Leander’s hands stretched out towards you, clearly attempting to stop your obvious retreat.

You, however, completely forget Leander’s existence as you crane your neck up to look at Sebastian. There are beads of sweat decorating his brow from all the energy he’d exerted, his slight flush emboldening the scars he’d yet to explain to you. You stare at his rugged beauty for a moment longer, lost in counting the freckles littering his cheeks, before remembering the major victory he’d just accomplished.

Without thinking, your body twists itself around, and you practically throw yourself at him so hard he has to catch you. He makes a grunt of surprise and stumbles back a step before steadying you both.

Your arms wind themselves around his shoulders, squeezing him as tightly as they can, a mad grin on your face as you speak into his ear. “I’m so fucking proud of you. That was amazing. I’m so glad I got to watch you play.”

He doesn’t return the hug, body tense as he stands there in shock. Noticing his lack of reciprocation, you suddenly remember how hard he’d been working to avoid any physical contact with you. It hurt at first, his aversion to your touch, but you’d respected it as a silent boundary he’d put up as a condition of his friendship.

Suddenly you feel awful, having crossed that boundary thoughtlessly in your excitement. You thought you were truly no better than Leander, and immediately went to retract your arms, an apology already on your lips.

Sebastian feels you loosen your grip on him, and his brain finally catches up. He wraps his arms around your torso, crushing you to him, almost squeezing all the air from your lungs. His face finds the crook of your neck, burying itself as deep as it can go.

“Please don’t stop.” His words are quiet, desperate, lips brushing your skin as they move. You freeze at his plea, confused, but remain where you are.

“I’m sorry, I- I was just so excited. I didn’t mean to push you into-”

“No. You didn’t. I…it’s- it’s ok.” His arms tighten impossibly around you, asking you to squeeze him just as hard.

“But…you’re always so careful not to-”

“I didn’t want to become greedy.”

You almost miss his quiet confession, his murmuring and the noise from the crowd making it difficult to hear his words. You think that maybe you weren’t supposed to hear them as Sebastian nuzzles further into your neck. “I’m sorry. This is…the first hug I’ve gotten in…a long time. Could you just- could you just stay…here, with me?”

Nodding your head as best you can, you card your fingers through his hair, holding his head to you, uncaring of the sweat dampening it. His breath shudders out of him, body melting further into you.

You stay locked like that until people start filtering off the field, and he’s called away for a debrief with his team. He releases you reluctantly, hands lingering as long as they’re able, bidding you a goodnight before trudging after the rest of the players.

—-------

It seemed like the floodgates opened after that night, Sebastian finding any and all reasons to be touching you in some way or another. Whether it was linking your arms as you walked together, or capturing your ankle with both of his while you ate across from each other. It was overwhelming at first, going from no contact to pressing his leg flush with yours in class, but it certainly wasn’t a change you were complaining about.

Sebastian became more at ease. His smiles coming easier, his laughs getting louder, talking more than he had the whole year. He really started spending time with you and Ominis, rarely being seen without one of you, if not both.

You were thrilled, you really were, feeling like you were finally seeing the real Sebastian, but there was a constant nagging in the back of your mind. He still hasn't explained his disappearance, and you wondered if, maybe now, he was comfortable enough with you to talk about it.

Sebastian asked you to come with him to the Undercroft after class, not wanting to fight through the crowds in the library that appeared right before exams. Packing your things, you automatically take his arm, touching him becoming second nature. He guides you down the hall, a small pleased smile gracing his lips. Opening the clock face, he ushers you inside with a gentle hand on your lower back.

Once in the room, you lean your backs against the wall, shoulders pressed together as you complete your assignments in comfortable silence.

He interrupted the silence with a question about Diricawl breeding, needing the answer for his Beasts class paper, which led to you sharing a wild story about the vanishing bird.

You told him how someone has snuck an irate Diricawl into the Slytherin Common Room, unleashing it on poor Ominis, who was unable to avoid its beak as it teleported around the room after him. You had tears in your eyes as you recounted the disheveled, panting state he’d been in when he’d run into you, begging you to catch the damn thing and stop his torment.

Sebastian laughed with you, clutching at a stitch in his side. “When- Merlin’s beard, When did this happen?”

You wiped your eyes, laughter trailing off slowly, a soft melancholy coming over your features. Avoiding eye contact, you keep your gaze on the piles of homework in front of you. “When, um…when you were gone. In our sixth year.”

The atmosphere became stifling as an awkward silence befell the room. Clearing your throat, you picked up your quill again, continuing to work on your assignment.

A moment passes, the scratching of your quill the only sound in the room. You see movement from the corner of your eye. A hand stretching across you, fingers gently brushing yours as they take the quill from your hand, setting it down. You don’t look at Sebastian until he calls your name softly, slowly turning your eyes towards him.

His face is pained, gaze searching your face as he starts to speak. “Please don’t- I…I thought I was going to hurt you.”

Eyes widening, you turn further towards him. He breaks eye contact, looking down at his lap as he fiddles with his fingers, murmuring quietly. “I couldn’t stand the thought of hurting you. Either of you. You were…are so important to me, and I thought that if I…stayed, you’d-”

Sebastian’s breathing shuddered, hands trembling slightly as his words became watery. “-you’d end up like my uncle. And- And then Anne left, and I was so scared something would happen to her, I tried to…find her, but I couldn’t, and-”

Blinking, you feel wet drops hit your hands, but you refuse to look away from Sebastian as he tries to speak. “I was too afraid to face you, or Ominis. Knowing I’d failed everyone I loved was- was too much, so I…I ran.”

“...Where did you go?” He looked at you then, finally seeing the tear tracks down your face. Bringing a hand up, he wiped your cheeks with his thumb, fingertips lingering before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I…I went far. As far as I could. I…became a mercenary of sorts, getting paid to clear out poacher camps, or deliver high value items across hamlets. I thought that…maybe if I did as much good as possible…I could be forgiven. That you’d forgive me.” His hand continued to pet your hair as he leaned his head against the wall, suddenly too heavy for his neck to support. He gazes at you sadly, memorizing your face in case you never speak to him again.

You gaze back just as intently, once again mapping the changes in his face, quietly mulling over his words. “Why- Why did you come back?”

His hand stilled, resting on your cheek. Unconsciously, you tilt your head further into his palm, craving more contact.

“I missed you.” He says it so sincerely, like it’s the only true thing he’d ever said in his life. “So much.”

You feel like the wind is knocked out of you, but still manage a whisper. “Then…When I saw you…why-”

“I was afraid. I didn’t know what to say. You looked like I’d carved your heart out of your chest and ripped it to shreds. I thought that I’d made a mistake…coming back, so I decided you’d be better off without me.”

Shaking your head, you grabbed onto his arm, holding his wrist securely, suddenly afraid he’d disappear again. He blinked, a few tears falling from his lashes as he bit his lip. “...but I couldn’t stay away. I tried to, but every time you looked at me…I couldn’t get enough, and I hated myself for it. I still do.”

You hiccupped, and his thumb collected your tears once more, knuckles lightly brushing your cheek bone when he was done.

“If I was a stronger man, I’d let you go, but…I’m not.”

You sobbed openly. Sebastian pulled you into his lap, rocking you back and forth as you cried into his chest. You told him how much you missed him, how worried you were, how you’d go out looking for him every chance you got. You begged him not to leave again, wailing all your hurt into his sweater.

His arms tightened with every word you spoke, face buried in your neck, tears soaking your collar. He apologized over and over, the two of you holding each other for dear life until you’d stopped crying, and then for a long while afterward. Only parting when the Bell Tower signaled the start of curfew.

—-------

Time passed slowly after that, weeks going by as the season gradually changed. There was something unnamed between you and Sebastian, several of your friends commenting on how sweet he was towards you. If Ominis happened to be around, he’d look at them quizzically and ask what they were talking about, stating that Sebastian had always treated you that way. You weren’t sure if you completely believed it, but Ominis was adamant that this was Sebastain’s normal behavior around you.

Walking the halls, you attempted to give Garreth the pep talk of the century, trying to boost his confidence for his rendezvous with Poppy. “You got this Garr, no sweat, just tell her how you feel.”

He took a deep breath and looked at you nervously. “You sure it’ll be ok?”

“Yes! I’m positive. I couldn’t be more positive. Just trust me on this.”

He took another deep breath, bouncing in place a few times, trying to shake out his jitters. “Ok. I’m ready. I just- before I go…”

Garreth takes both of your hands in his, squeezing a little, his smile nervous but warm. “I just…want to thank you, you know, for being my friend. You’ve always been there for me, probably more so than I’ve been there for you, and I just want you to know how much I appreciate y-”

Your hands are suddenly ripped from Garreths and your world turns upside down. You’re thrown onto a broad shoulder, an arm securing you in place as they walk away with you. You look up at Garreths shocked expression, mouth hanging open, hands still outstretched from where he’d held yours. Turning as much as you can, you look at the back of the perpetrator’s head.

“Sebastian!” Looking back at Garreth, you see him take a few steps to follow.

“It’s ok Garreth! Go on ahead! Good Luck!” You had to shout at him to be heard, Sebastian putting as much distance as possible between you and the redhead.

“Sebastian! Wha- Put me down! This is so embarrassing!” He ignores your cries and continues walking, other students stopping their activities to watch you flail on his shoulder. You recognize the path he’s taking, crossing your arms and giving up your struggle until you get to your destination.

Sebastian only puts you down once you’ve crossed the threshold into the Undercroft. Your arms stay crossed as you glare up at him, Sebastian mirroring your pose, refusing to break eye contact. You squint at each other in silence for a beat before you speak.

“What the hell was that.”

Sebastian doesn’t speak for a moment, jaw clenching as he regards you.

“Go on a date with me.”

He’s so grumpy when he asks, or rather demands, that you’re not entirely sure you heard him correctly.

“...What.”

Sebastian sighs, annoyed that he has to repeat himself.

“You’d probably prefer someone like Garreth, but I’m throwing my hat in the ring. Go on a date with me.”

Your brain short circuits for a moment, but then is irritated with the tone he’s chosen, and any shyness you might have felt flies out the door.

“And this is how you’re asking?”

His brow furrows deeper, offended. “How else am I supposed to ask?”

You scoff and turn your nose up at him, turning your head to glare off into the Undercroft. “Whatever. It’s not like there’s even a ring to throw your hat in. It’s you, idiot.”

Sebastian makes a confused noise, and you turn to look at him again. His arms had partially come uncrossed, a surprised look on his stupidly handsome face. “But…you told Leander you’re off the market.”

You roll your eyes. Unbelievable. “Yeah, for him and everyone else. You made sure of that a long time ago, whether you knew it or not.”

He stands there staring. ”So…you and Garreth…?”

“Oh my- Are just friends. He’s actually confessing to Poppy as we speak, which you so rudely interrupted when you decided to act like a barbarian.”

Sebastian strode up to you, ignoring your irate words, stopping half a step away. Towering over you, his eyes were wide with wonder, hope glimmering behind them. “So…I can have you? Am I- Am I allowed to?”

“For the love of-” You grab his tie and crash his lips into yours. You linger for only a moment before pulling back just enough to glare at him, still annoyed. “Get it together Sallow, you’re embarrassing me.”

You hear a sound coming from his chest, starting as a low hum, slowly building itself up to giddy giggles, before exploding into loud laughter.

“I fucking love you.” He grabbed your cheeks between his palms and yanked you into another kiss, struggling to wipe the grin off his face enough to do it properly.

He gathered you as close to his body as he could, frantically kissing everywhere he could reach. All you could really do was hang onto him as he lovingly attacked you. Eventually he returned to your lips, his kisses turning more passionate the longer you stayed together.

“You’re telling me *kiss* I could have *kiss* been kissing you-” He groaned as he kissed you again, pressing further and lingering longer. “-this whole time?”

He couldn’t stop long enough to let you answer his question properly, so you did the best you could. “Yeah, you’re mmff-*kiss* -fucking late.”

He chuckled, pulling away just enough to speak clearly.

“Guess I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #garreth weasley #romance #fanfic

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